The walls are thin. Too thin. Every night, I hear her moaning about it—“Oh fuck, your cock’s so fat… stretch me harder!”—while I’m lying in bed, aching, my fingers working my clit to the sound of her gagging on him. My step-sister doesn’t deserve a dick like that. But I do. So when I find him alone on the couch tonight, scrolling his phone, I don’t hesitate. I slip into the tightest black corset, thigh-high stockings with lace tops, and heels that click like a countdown to sin. “Waiting for someone?” I purr, straddling the arm of the couch, letting my stockinged leg brush his thigh. His eyes drag up my body, lingering on the way the corset pushes my tits up, my nipples already hard beneath the lace. Fuck, he’s staring. “She’s always late,” he mutters, adjusting his jeans. I can see the outline of that thick cock straining against the denim. Mine. Slowly, I peel off my robe, watching his breath hitch. “You look… tense.” My fingers trail down his chest, lower, lower—“Let me help.” Then I’m on my knees, crawling toward him like the filthy goddess I am, my ass swaying, the scent of my dripping pussy thick in the air. His hands fist in my hair the second I unbuckle his belt. And oh, fuck — his cock slaps against my lips, thick and veiny, already leaking pre-cum. I lick up the salt of him, moaning, “No wonder she screams…” before taking him down my throat. But I don’t let him cum there. No. “Bend me over the couch,” I demand, hiking up my skirt to show him my bare, waxed pussy. “And ruin me.” He does. Hard. Twenty minutes of him pounding me in every position — my stockings ripped, corset digging into my skin, his balls slapping against my clit as he breeds me like I’m his. “Cum on my tits,” I pant, just as the front door clicks open. The look on my step-sister’s face? Priceless.