Sister Stories: Bait & Switch

Ivy overhears Carter on the phone and pieces it together: her sister likes girls. A slow smile. Later she slides a note across the table, forged, signed from an admirer, telling Carter to leave the back door open at midnight and keep every light off. She walks away, already wet with the thought. At midnight Ivy slips inside. She speaks only in whispers so Carter won’t recognise the voice. Carter has done exactly what the note demanded—door unlocked, room black. Ivy moves behind her, palms covering those full tits, thumbs teasing the nipples through thin fabric. Carter starts to say something; Ivy hushes her, orders her eyes covered with her own hands. Carter obeys. Ivy’s mouth finds her neck, teeth grazing skin, tongue hot. She presses Carter onto the couch, yanks the thin panties aside, fingers sliding straight through slick folds. Carter gasps. Ivy climbs on, lines their cunts up, grinds down hard. Wet meets wet, clit against clit, the friction brutal. Carter’s trying to stay quiet, but every roll of Ivy’s hips punches small, desperate sounds out of her throat. Then Carter peeks. Realises. She shoves Ivy back, voice sharp. "What the fuck?" Ivy laughs low. "We’re stepsisters. It’s hardly a scandal." She grabs Carter by the hips and pins her again, kissing her deep, tongue claiming every inch of her mouth. Carter squirms, breath shaking, muttering about their parents, about getting caught. Ivy bites her lower lip and promises, soft against her mouth, "Our secret. No one else ever has to know."