Saturday morning, sunlight filters through Kayla's curtains, illuminating dust motes that dance in golden beams. I shift uncomfortably on the floor between her legs, the pleated fabric of the skirt riding up my thighs no matter how many times I tug it down. The material is obscenely short, barely covering anything when I sit. My face burns with humiliation as cool air kisses my exposed skin.
"Stop. Moving." Kayla's command is sharp against my ear, her breath hot on my neck. She sits on the edge of her bed, legs spread with me positioned between them, my back against her chest.
I freeze instantly, fighting the urge to squirm as her hand works beneath the pleated fabric. The skirt was her choice after I lost our Super Smash Sisters match last night, five straight rounds of complete destruction. I never stood a chance.
'I need to stop maining Linkle, on god.'
"I still can't believe you lost that badly," she whispers, her free hand gripping my hip to keep me still. "Almost like you wanted to wear this for me."
"I didn't," I protest weakly, my voice catching as her fingers tighten around my cock. "You know I hate skirts."
"Mmm," she hums, not believing me for a second. Her palm slides up my length with agonizing slowness, collecting the precum beading at the tip to slick her movements. "Your body says otherwise."
I whimper as her thumb circles the sensitive head, spreading wetness in torturous circles that make my thighs tremble. The silk of the skirt brushes against my balls with each subtle movement, adding another layer of sensation that has me biting my lip to stifle a moan.
"You know what I hate?" Kayla continues conversationally as if she isn't systematically dismantling me with each stroke of her hand. "The idea of moving to that house. With Robert. With Megan."
Her grip tightens painfully at the mention of our soon-to-be stepsister, making me gasp. She establishes a brutal rhythm, her wrist twisting on the upstroke in a way that has my eyes rolling back.
"Especially Megan," she growls, her free hand sliding up to my throat, applying just enough pressure to make breathing a conscious effort. "Did you see how she looked at you? 'Call me onee-chan,'" she mimics, her voice dripping with contempt.
Suddenly, Kayla's pace slows to an excruciating crawl, her grip loosening until it's barely a whisper against my aching shaft. I groan in protest, trying to thrust into her fist, but her other hand tightens around my throat, holding me immobile.
"The fucking audacity," she murmurs, her lips finding the sensitive spot behind my ear. She plants a warm, wet kiss there, teeth grazing the shell of my ear as her hand continues its torturous, languid strokes. "Thinking she can just waltz in and claim what's mine."
Another kiss, this one at the junction where my neck meets my shoulder, right over one of the fading hickeys. Her tongue traces the mark, reaffirming her ownership as her fingers barely ghost over my cock, teasing rather than satisfying.
"Did you see how she was eyeing your legs?" Kayla whispers against my skin, her breath hot and damp. "Imagining them wrapped around her, no doubt." Her teeth sink into my flesh, not hard enough to break skin but definitely enough to make me cry out, my cock twitching violently in her loose grip.
I'm leaking obscenely now, precum dripping down my shaft, making her fingers shine in the morning light as she deliberately avoids touching the sensitive head. The pressure is building at the base of my spine, heat coiling tighter with each lazy stroke.
"Kayla, please," I beg, my voice cracking. "I'm so close."
She immediately stops all movement, her hand squeezing the base of my cock firmly, cutting off my approaching orgasm. "No," she says simply, pressing another kiss to the nape of my neck. "Not yet."
When she feels the urgent need recede, she resumes those maddening, slow strokes, her thumb occasionally brushing just under the head where she knows I'm most sensitive.
"I bet she has all sorts of sick fantasies about you," Kayla continues, her voice lower now, rougher. "About her new little step-brother." Her grip tightens momentarily, making me gasp before returning to that feather-light touch that's driving me insane. "But she doesn't understand what you need."
Her teeth find my earlobe, tugging gently as her wrist twists on an upstroke, her palm collecting the wetness at my tip before sliding back down with agonizing precision.
"Only I know how to take care of you," she breathes, planting open-mouthed kisses along the column of my throat. "How to keep you right on the edge until you're sobbing for release."
"Only I know exactly when to stop," she emphasizes, suddenly squeezing hard around the base of my cock just as my breath hitches. The orgasm that was building crashes against an invisible wall, pleasure denied at the last possible second. A pathetic whine escapes my throat as my hips buck uselessly against her iron grip.
"Fucking Megan," Kayla snarls, resuming those torturous strokes once the danger has passed. "Did you see how she kept staring at your hickeys? Like she was mentally adding her own."
Her pace quickens briefly. My thighs begin to tremble uncontrollably, my head falling back against her shoulder as pressure builds again, faster this time, more urgent.
"You're mine," she whispers fiercely, her teeth scraping against my pulse point. "My brother. My responsibility."
Her wrist works faster, twisting on each upstroke while her other hand slides from my throat to my chest, pinching my nipple hard enough to make me cry out. The dual sensations send me rocketing toward the edge again, my cock throbbing violently in her grip.
"Please, Kayla," I sob, my voice breaking as tears prick at the corners of my eyes. "Please let me cum."
She chuckles darkly against my ear, slowing her movements once more, deliberately keeping me right at the precipice without allowing me to fall. "Not until I'm done talking about our little problem."
Her thumb circles the head of my cock, gathering the copious precum before spreading it down my shaft. The wet sounds of her hand working me fill the room, punctuated only by my desperate gasps and whimpers.
"And that pool? Please." Her grip tightens momentarily, making me yelp. "She just wants to see you wet and practically naked."
I'm beyond words now, reduced to incoherent pleas as she brings me to the edge for the third time. My cock is an angry red, veins throbbing visibly with each denied release. My balls draw up tight against my body, so full and heavy they ache.
"Maybe I should just keep you like this forever," she muses, deliberately slowing her strokes again just as I'm about to explode. "My desperate little brother, begging to cum but never allowed to."
Tears of frustration stream down my cheeks as I reach my breaking point, my body humping wildly against her grip. The skirt flutters with each desperate movement as I try to chase the release she keeps denying me.
"Aww," Kayla coos, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Is my little baby brother crying because I won't let him cum?"
Before I can respond, she's moving with startling speed. She yanks me up from the floor and throws me onto the bed, climbing on top of me in one fluid motion. The pleated skirt bunches around my waist as she straddles me, her athletic thighs clamping around my hips.
"You want to cum so badly?" she purrs, positioning herself above me. "Then cum inside your sister."
Without warning, she sinks down, impaling herself on my aching cock. The sudden wet heat engulfing me is too much after being edged relentlessly. I explode the instant my tip makes contact with her slick insides, my back arching off the mattress.
"KAYLA!" I scream her name as my orgasm crashes through me like a freight train. My vision whites out at the edges as I empty myself inside her, pulse after pulse of hot cum flooding her tight channel. It's so intense it's almost painful, my entire body convulsing with the force of my release.
She smiles down at me warmly, her face softening with genuine affection as she watches me come undone beneath her. Her inner walls clench rhythmically around my twitching cock, milking every last drop as I continue to shudder through the aftershocks.
"That's it," she whispers, stroking my hair back from my sweaty forehead. "Give it all to me."
I'm still trembling as the final waves of pleasure wash through me, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The skirt is completely ruined, soaked with sweat and precum, twisted around my waist like a useless belt.
"You're such a good boy," Kayla murmurs, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to my tear-stained cheek. "My perfect little brother."
She shifts slightly, causing my oversensitive cock to slide deeper inside her. I whimper at the sensation, my hands flying to her hips to hold her still.
"Too much?" she asks, her smile turning predatory again despite the tenderness in her eyes.
I nod weakly, still trying to catch my breath. "Give me... a minute..."
"You have thirty seconds," she declares, rolling her hips in a small circle that sends aftershocks of pleasure-pain shooting up my spine. "Then I'm going to ride you until you're hard again. So hard that you…"
A sharp buzzing sound interrupts whatever filthy promise Kayla was about to make. Her phone vibrates against the nightstand, screen lighting up with a notification. She groans in frustration, reaching over to grab it while still straddling me.
The moment her eyes scan the message, her entire body tenses. Her jaw clenches, that perfect profile suddenly hardening into something dangerous. The transformation is immediate, from playful dominance to cold fury in the span of a heartbeat.
Even with her features contorted by anger, she's breathtaking. She really is a goddess that must have fallen to earth. Her full lips press into a thin line, and somehow, that subtle display of rage only enhances her beauty.
"What's wrong?" I ask, propping myself up on my elbows, concern cutting through my post-orgasmic haze.
Kayla turns the phone so I can see the screen, her nostrils flaring slightly as she inhales. "Megan wants to meet me alone for dinner tonight." Her voice is eerily calm, the kind of calm that precedes a violent storm.
My stomach drops, a cold feeling spreading through my chest despite the warmth of her body still connected to mine. "Are you going to go?"
"Yeah," Kayla says, setting the phone down with deliberate care. Her eyes meet mine, something dangerous flickering in those green depths. "I want to set up the ground rules of how she'll treat you."
Her fingers trace idle patterns on my chest as she stares down at me, her expression softening just slightly. "Someone needs to explain to our new stepsister exactly where the boundaries are in this family."
"Don't be too mean. She is our new sister, after all." I say, having trouble focusing on anything other than Kayla's body.
"I'm just going to show our new sister the pecking order is all. Don't even worry about it."