Her Shy Stepbrother's First-Time Touch

Emma had been home from college for exactly four days when the house became a pressure cooker of awkwardness. Her parents had barely backed the SUV out of the driveway for their week-long anniversary cruise before Tyler started acting like a startled rabbit every time she walked into a room. Nineteen, loud, and perpetually horny, Emma found the whole thing hilarious. Tyler, her eighteen-year-old stepbrother, was the polar opposite: a skinny, glasses-wearing nerd who still blushed crimson at toothpaste commercials that featured girls in sports bras.

She caught him on the third night.

Emma had come downstairs for a glass of water wearing nothing but an oversized T-shirt and a pair of bright pink panties. The laundry room door was cracked open, the light on. She heard the unmistakable sound of frantic breathing and the soft rustle of fabric. Curiosity—and a healthy dose of mischief—drew her closer.

There he was: Tyler, eyes squeezed shut, face buried in the crotch of the black thong she’d worn to the gym two days earlier. His fist pumped furiously inside his basketball shorts, the waistband shoved down just enough to free his surprisingly thick cock. The expression on his face was pure tortured bliss.

Emma leaned against the doorframe, folded her arms under her breasts, and cleared her throat.

Tyler’s eyes flew open. For one glorious second he froze like a glitchy video game character. Then panic set in. The thong flew from his hand like a guilty bat. He tried to simultaneously yank up his shorts, cover his erection, and back away, resulting in him tripping over the laundry basket and landing hard on his ass with a yelp.

“Oh my God,” he squeaked, voice cracking. “Emma—fuck—I wasn’t—please don’t tell Mom and Dad—”

She couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing so hard she had to hold onto the doorframe.

“Tyler. Sweetie. You were sniffing my dirty panties like a raccoon in heat. I think we’re past pretending this didn’t happen.”

His ears were neon red. He couldn’t even look at her. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I’ll never— I’ll move out. I’ll join a monastery.”

Emma wiped tears from her eyes. “Relax, perv. I’m not mad. I’m mostly impressed you managed to find my favorite pair. Those things are buried at the bottom of the hamper like treasure.”

Tyler risked a glance up. She was still grinning, one eyebrow arched. He looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him.

“You… you’re not going to make fun of me forever?” he asked weakly.

“Oh, absolutely I am. But first—” She stepped into the laundry room, plucked her thong off the dryer where it had landed, and dangled it in front of him. “Tell me the truth. How long have you been jerking off to your stepsister’s used underwear?”