The Spanked Step-Sister Pt. 02

Apart from being an idiot every time Jason was in earshot, the summer passed mostly without any incidents. I went back to college in the fall, and I lived in a dorm, so I only had to deal with seeing Jason in my night-time fantasies -- usually in a towel, still damp from the shower. Only, in my version, he didn't leave after getting the razor. And it wasn't my pajamas he complemented.

So I was in the clear for a few months. Then Thanksgiving came around, and I went home again. Martin came over, which was nice, although I think he might have picked up on the vibes when Jason asked me to pass him the red wine and I nearly spilled it all over the table. That night when Martin was fucking me, I had my eyes closed tight and was picturing Jason on top of me, those broad shoulders and wide chest throwing a shadow over me as he pounded, harder and harder, whispering with that golden voice, his breath on my ear. I'm lucky we were already trying to keep quiet, since my uncle and aunt were in the guest room next door -- otherwise, I think I might have called out his name.

Winter Break was a different story. I'd be home for two full weeks, and because Martin and his family were going on a trip to Hawaii, I would have no recourse for those extra-horny evenings. I was so nervous about it that I started biting my nails again. One night I was in my room -- supposedly wrapping gifts, but really just staring off into space and jogging my leg -- and something just snapped.

So I stomped out into the hallway, still not really sure of what the fuck I was doing. I was wearing this cute jean shorts I'd bought at a thrift store with my girlfriends -- they somehow fit my ass perfectly like no pair of new jeans ever does -- and a tee-shirt that, I think, makes my small breasts look as perky and full as they ever could hope to be. I went down the hall peeking around doorways like a kid playing Secret Agent, on high alert for my dad and for Jason's mom. They were out for dinner that night, and my sister was with her friends. I had no idea when they'd be getting back.

All I knew was that I needed to see something for myself.

You're probably judging me really hard right now. That's okay, you're right to do that. I was creeping down the hall like a total freak, listening to the sound of the shower running in the other bathroom at the other end of the house. My heart was thudding in my chest the whole time, and my brain was screaming at me: Turn around! Turn the fuck around!

But I didn't. I couldn't. It was like my legs had a mind of their own, and they were carrying me to the bathroom where my step-brother was showering. I couldn't have stopped if I wanted to.

I came to the door and put my hand on the knob. The bathroom at this side of the house is shaped sort of like a capital L: when you go in, there's a corner on your right hand side that blocks your view of the rest of the room, and the other way around. If you enter really quietly, someone standing at the sink or in the shower wouldn't even notice you. You'd have to sort of slip inside, though, that they wouldn't be able to see the door opening. So that's exactly what I did. I opened the door as narrowly as I possibly could, then slipped in through the gap holding my breath. The door creaks -- I didn't know that before I tried this. But luckily he couldn't hear over the sound of the pounding water from the shower. I closed the door behind me gently, that way I'd have more room to hide after peeking around the corner. I really only meant to have just one look. Just a single glimpse of what had been on my brain since that one fateful day with the razor and the pajamas and the towel...

All of a sudden, I hear the water stop running, and my stomach drops. The shower knob squeaks as it closes, and a moment later I hear the glass door thunk open. I swear to you that I have never been so scared in my entire life. My whole heart was in my throat, beating like I was running a marathon. I cursed myself violently in my head for shutting the door -- me and my bright fucking ideas. Now I couldn't possibly open it without him hearing. My mind was reeling.

I heard a soft footfall as the shower door squeaked and clattered closed. A couple of moments later I heard the sink running: he was cleaning a razor, getting ready to shave. It dawned on me in that moment that if I was to actually see him naked, I had reached my only chance. And wasn't that the whole reason for this stupid little trick anyway? So, with my brain screaming at me again to stop, I peeked around the corner and saw Jason in profile, completely naked, leaning forward to the mirror as he applied a thin coat of shaving cream.

And oh. My. God.

I've heard girls talk about their boyfriends being hung before, and I've even said things to that effect myself. But I could never have imagined a cock this big, this perfect, hanging from between a more perfectly toned pair of athletic legs. And he wasn't even hard -- that was the incredible thing. He cock was pointed at the ground, an absolute behemoth that I couldn't even imagine fitting inside of me as it was. My insides turned to jelly. I ducked behind the corner again, basically panting from being so horny. My fingers went to my crotch, and I looked up at the ceiling. I don't think I've ever prayed for anything before and really meant it. But god...god, fucking damn it...

I could hear the scrape of his razor against his cheek, that's how close I was. My pulse was sounding out in my ears. I closed my eyes and pictured his naked body again, the awe-inspiring ripple of muscles at his stomach, his chest, his wet hair falling in his beautiful eyes.

I bit my lip, then, because I knew that I wasn't going to be content with just imagining him. I needed to see it again. So, still cursing myself, I peeked around the corner again. My insides felt like they were going to melt and pour out of me like a waterfall. My mouth fell open and went dry as I watched him stroke the now-smooth side of his face, inspecting his hard jaw for missed spots.

Now, I don't really know what happened here. I don't think I made a moaning sound or anything like that. If anything, I think maybe my bare foot squeaked on the tile. Or maybe I didn't make any sound, and it was just fate that made what happened next happen.

Whatever.

It doesn't matter.

Because what happened was this: Jason turned, startled, and saw me ogling him as he was shaving himself, naked, in the mirror. His eyes met with mine. I couldn't move -- I couldn't even duck behind the corner, much less try to leave the bathroom. My eyes went wide and I'm sure that my face went bright red. Now I had a full frontal view of his cock, uncircumcised, as thick as a soda can and twice as long. My eyes flickered down to it, and he must have noticed because he lunged for a towel and held it over his waist.

"Lindsey," he said, "what the fuck are you doing?"

"I-I-"

"Why are you in the bathroom? Didn't you hear the shower?"

"I-I-" I looked down at the tiles. I couldn't even manage to come up with the most basic excuse -- I didn't know you were in here -- and it's not like it even would have worked. I'd been fucking caught.

Jason, for his part, stepped towards me as though he were still expecting that I wasn't actually there. Having confirmed that his step-sister was, in fact, spying on him in the shower, his eyebrows came together and his nostrils flared. "Well?" he said finally. "What have you got to say for yourself?"

I kept my eyes glued to the floor. The words were stuck in my throat, but I knew I needed to say something. Without lifting my head, I said in an almost whisper: "I-I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" he said incredulously.

I nodded. What the hell else could I do? When I lifted my eyes, he was looking me up and down.

He put his tongue to the back of his mouth and looked down at me through his nose. A horrifically long moment passed, and he shook his head. "Uh-uh," he said simply. "That's not cutting it."

I looked up at him, confusion on my face for the first time.

"It's not enough that you're sorry."

My stomach plummeted.

"No," he said simply. "You need to learn a lesson in respecting people's privacy." He stepped back to the sink. "And I think I know how we can teach you." He ties his towel around his waist. "Come here," he said simply. "You need to take your punishment."