The tension between us had been building for months — stolen glances across the dinner table, lingering touches when we passed in the hallway, the way her eyes would drop to my lips whenever I laughed. We weren’t just step sisters. We were rivals, enemies in a silent war of control — until the night everything broke.
She thought she was in charge. Always so fucking prim, with her tight ponytail and judgmental glare. But I knew the truth. I saw the way she bit her lip when I bent over in those short shorts. The way her breath hitched when I brushed past her in the bathroom, still wrapped in nothing but a towel.
That night, I decided to take what I wanted.
It started with a fight — over laundry, of all things. But her voice was too sharp, her tone too condescending. And something inside me snapped. I shoved her against the wall, my hand pressing into her chest. She gasped, eyes wide, but didn’t push me away.
“Stop acting like you’re better than me,” I growled, my hips pressing into hers.
Her breath trembled. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”
“Oh, I do,” I whispered, grinding against her. “And you want it.”
Before she could protest, I kissed her — hard, deep, claiming her mouth like I’d been dreaming of for months. Her lips resisted at first, then melted under mine, opening with a soft moan. That sound lit a fire in my core. I backed her into her bedroom, slamming the door shut behind us.
She tried to speak, but I silenced her with another kiss, my fingers tangling in her hair. Then I pushed her onto the bed, straddling her hips. Her chest rose fast, eyes locked on mine — fear, lust, confusion, all swirling together.
“You’ve been watching me,” I said. “Don’t lie. I see the way you stare when you think I’m not looking.”
She swallowed hard. “We… we shouldn’t…”
“We should,” I cut in. “And you’re going to take it like you’ve been begging for.”
With a smirk, I stood and pulled out the black strapon I kept hidden in my drawer. Her eyes widened as I buckled it on, the thick silicone cock swinging heavy between my legs.
“N-no… you’re not gonna…”
“Yeah, I am,” I said, crawling over her. “And you’re gonna beg for more.”
She tried to turn away, but I grabbed her chin, forcing her to look. “See this? This is what you’ve been fantasizing about. Me, owning you. Taking every tight little inch of you.”
Her panties were already soaked. I yanked them aside and pressed the tip against her slick entrance. She whimpered — a sweet, broken sound that made my blood boil.
“You want me to stop?” I asked, teasing the head just inside.
She shook her head, barely. “N-no…”
“Say it,” I demanded. “Say you want my strapon in your pussy.”
“I… I want it,” she gasped. “Please…”
That was all I needed.
With one brutal thrust, I buried the strapon deep inside her. She cried out, back arching, fingers clawing at the sheets. I didn’t give her time to adjust — pulled out and slammed back in, again and again, setting a rough, merciless pace.
Her moans turned to sobs, then to desperate pleas. “Yes! Harder! Fuck me harder!”
I leaned down, biting her neck as I pounded her. “You love this, don’t you? Being fucked by your nasty step sister? Taking my strapon like a good little slut?”
“Yes! Yes! I’m yours!”
The room filled with the sound of skin slapping skin, our ragged breaths, her whimpers of pleasure. I reached between her legs, circling her clit as I fucked her deeper, stretching her, claiming her completely.
She came with a scream, her walls clenching around the strapon like a vise. I didn’t stop — kept thrusting, making her ride the waves of her orgasm until she was trembling, boneless.
Only then did I pull out, flipping her over and dragging her up onto her knees.
“Round two,” I whispered. “And this time… it’s your ass.”
