A Step Away From The Truth

Lyla's been watching her stepbrother Mike like a hawk. Something's off about how he slinks around their stepmom Irene, eyes darting like a thief in the night. She tails him one evening, heart pounding, and catches him peeking through the cracked door. Irene's stripping down, oblivious, peeling off her blouse to reveal those full, heavy breasts spilling free. Mike's glued there, hand already rubbing his crotch, breath ragged. Lyla seethes but waits. It happens again the next night—Irene shimmying out of her skirt, bending to slide panties down smooth thighs, ass cheeks parting just enough to tease. Mike's stroking himself harder, desperate. Third time seals it. Lyla bursts in after, grabs his arm. 'You filthy creep,' she hisses, eyes blazing. 'Spying on her like some starved dog.' Mike panics, drops to his knees. 'Please, Lyla, don't tell Irene. I'll do anything. Name it.' She smirks, that cheeky glint cutting through the tension. 'Anything? Fine. Fuck me. Right now.' He stammers but nods, cock twitching at the forbidden edge. Clothes hit the floor fast. Lyla pushes him back on the bed, straddles him, sinks down onto his throbbing shaft with a gasp. She rides him slow at first, grinding deep, her tight pussy clenching around him. Then she pulls out her phone, scrolls to Irene's social media. 'Look at this,' she purrs, shoving the screen in his face—pics of their stepmom in a bikini, curves glistening by the pool, or that tight dress hugging her hips. Mike's eyes widen in shock, but his hips buck up wilder, slamming into her. 'You like that, perv? Getting off to your own stepmom while you pound your stepsister?' She taunts, nails digging into his chest, bouncing harder, tits jiggling with each thrust. He groans, lost in it, the shame fueling the fire as they fuck like animals—sweaty, relentless, her mocking whispers pushing him over the edge into a shuddering, explosive release.