His Curvy Stepsister's First Time Awakening

The house felt different with just the two of us in it. Mom and my new stepdad had left for their two-week honeymoon in Hawaii the day before, leaving me alone with Ryan for the first time since the wedding. I was nineteen, freshly out of my parents’ house, and painfully aware of every extra curve on my body as I tried to settle into the guest room that was now supposed to be mine. Ryan was twenty-two, tall and broad-shouldered from years of swimming in college, and every time he looked at me I felt my cheeks burn.

I had a terrible crush on him already. It had started the moment I saw him at the rehearsal dinner—those calm gray eyes, the easy smile, the way his shirt stretched across his chest. Now we were living together, and I couldn’t seem to stop embarrassing myself. The first morning I came downstairs in an old tank top that had shrunk in the wash; my heavy breasts strained against the thin fabric, nipples clearly outlined. Ryan had frozen with his coffee halfway to his mouth. I’d mumbled something and fled back upstairs, but not before I caught the unmistakable heat in his stare.

That kind of thing kept happening. I spilled juice on my oversized sleep shirt and had to peel it off in the kitchen, standing there in nothing but pale pink panties while he pretended not to notice the way my thick thighs rubbed together. I bent over to pick up a dropped remote and my cotton shorts rode up so high the soft lower curve of my ass peeked out. Each time, Ryan’s jaw would tighten and he’d find somewhere else to be, but I could feel his eyes following me like a physical touch.

By the fifth night the tension was unbearable. I lay in bed wearing nothing but an oversized T-shirt and panties, the ceiling fan doing nothing to cool the flush on my skin. My nipples were tight, aching. Between my legs I was embarrassingly wet, the kind of slick heat I couldn’t ignore anymore. I had never let anyone touch me. Never even kissed anyone properly. And now the only person I could think about was my stepbrother.

I cried before I found the courage to go to him.

It was almost two in the morning when I padded down the hall on bare feet. Ryan’s door was cracked open, the low glow of his laptop screen painting the walls blue. I pushed it wider.

“Ryan?” My voice came out small and shaky.

He sat up instantly, shirtless, the sheet pooling around his waist. The sight of all that smooth, hard muscle made my breath catch. “Elena? What’s wrong?”

I stood in the doorway, twisting the hem of my shirt, tears already spilling down my cheeks. “I… I can’t sleep. I keep thinking about you. About how you look at me when you think I don’t notice.” My voice cracked. “I’ve never done anything, Ryan. No one’s ever touched me. I’m still a virgin and I’m so tired of feeling like… like my body is this secret I don’t know how to share. I want you to show me. Please. I want you to be the one who teaches me what it feels like to be wanted.”