Gromet's PlazaErotic Stories

The Evil Stepsister

by Jo

Email Feedback | Forum Feedback

© Copyright 2013 - Jo - Used by permission

Storycodes: F/f; F/m; leather; striptease; dance; foot; toys; insert; strapon; tease; oral; mast; climax; cons; X

It's supposed to be just a friendly game of cribbage, but not when the evil stepsister wins.

"15-2, 15-4, 2 for the pair."

"I'm your stepsister, but I'm, NOT evil."

"You have your moments. And what about you calling me a bitch?"

"15-2. You were, still are."

"Bite me, Loren."


"More wine?"

"Not really in wine mode. Scotch?"


"What else? I'll come with you, see what the boys are up to."

"Frank is up to his elbows in grease and Artur is up to his neck in gratitude. He really loves that truck."

"Yes he does."

They found the guys in the garage. A pair of feet stuck out from under the truck. That would be Frank.

"How's it going, Art?"

"Not bad. Called the junk yard. They've got the truck. A year older, but lower miles, and they think they have what we need."

"Speaking of need, beer?"

"Nah, we're good."

"Speak for yourself," a disembodied voice spoke from under the truck.

Back in the bedroom, sprawled on the bed, the game continued.

"Whose deal?"


"15-2 and 3 for the run."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I can count."

"Muggins! 4 more for me. Are you trying to let me win?"

"Have I ever?"

No, but she was trying to lose. She usually liked being on the receiving end of Loren's penalty. Key word: usually. But today she could do no wrong. And Loren was so far back the game was all but over. And a few hands later it was.

"Okay. Lay it on me. What do I have to do?"

Truth was she hadn't considered it, didn't like coming up with penalties. She just wasn't good at it. Or maybe she was a closet masochist or maybe she liked being forced to be naughty.

"Give Artur a blowjob."

"Is that it? A bj for my hubby?"


"Ooh. I'm all atingle."

Loren stuck her head into the garage.

"Honey? Got a sec?"

"What's up."

"Just come here."

She took his hand and led him into the guest bathroom. She kissed him while she groped him, undid his pants. She settled on her knees and pulled his pants down a bit, fumbled his half stiff cock out, and took it into her mouth. It didn't take long; she had a very talented mouth. She could keep him on the edge for as long as she pleased or, times like this, get him off in almost less time than it takes to describe it. He came, she swallowed, she grabbed a towel to wipe him off, he tucked himself back into his pants.

"I'm not even gonna ask."

She gave him a peck on the cheek.


Back in the bedroom...

"Think he'll tell Frank?"

"Probably. You know how men are, bragging and all."

"Oh, like women don't spill their guts within seconds of meeting someone. Look at us."

"That's different. We're sisters."

"Yeah. Right. My deal."

Truth was they were closer than sisters. It hadn't started that way. For the first few years the house was a war zone, but then Loren got her period and it totally freaked her out. Even though her mother had given her "the talk" the sight of blood terrified her. And for some reason she had held Loren while she sobbed. They made a pact that it would be their secret. Of course it wasn't, her mother figured out pretty quickly that her "supplies" were missing, but that's when the bond was formed.

The next game Loren flipped the starter, a jack, pegged 1 for "his heels" and it was all downhill from there.


"Yeah, when you go into the woods, sometimes you eat the bear and sometimes the bear eats you."

"Okay. What's it gonna be?"

Artur stuck his head in the doorway.

"Hey guys. We're going to run to the junk yard. Shouldn't be too long. Maybe an hour."

"Honey, why don't you pick up some take out. I was thinking Half Baked."

"Half Baked? They're in the next county."

"The next county is only 20 miles as the crow flies."


"We don't feel like cooking and you're not going to want to go out and regular take-out won't keep. This way we put the stuff in the fridge and when you're done we can just pop it in the over for an hour. No messy cleanup either."

"Dios. Yeah, yeah, okay. What do you want?"

"Whatever. You decide."

Artur turned and left the room. She glanced at Loren who was slipping the cards into the case.


"Don't go all innocent on me. You did that on purpose."

"Well, I did want more quality time for what I have in mind."

"Which is?"

"You'll see. Way I figure we'll probably have at least a couple of hours. Let's go to my house."

"Oh God."

Fifteen minutes later they pulled into the driveway. Loren opened the kitchen door. She followed only to be jammed up against the fridge, Loren's hand on her throat. She kissed her. Hard. She opened her mouth for Loren's tongue.

They weren't lesbians, weren't even bi, which is why some of these penalties were a bit more intense than others. Doing the girl-girl thing embarrassed her and that pleased Loren to no end. And as they say on TV: Resistance is futile.

"What are you?"

"B-bitch," she gasped as much from the intensity of the kiss to the pressure of Loren's hand on her throat.

"Who's bitch?"

"Your-your bitch"

"That's right. Fix me a drink."

She made the drink and went into the living room. She set the drink on a coaster on a side table and knelt by Loren's chair. The clock on the mantle struck. In a minute Loren appeared wearing a black leather skirt, leather bra, and a pair of spike-heel black leather booties. And by the things she carried in her hand she knew exactly where this was headed. A little shiver went up her spine. It's like going to the doctor a couple of times a year. You know the routine, it's familiar, but you know it's going to be embarrassing, uncomfortable, maybe even painful. Loren settled in the chair and sipped her drink for a minute.

"Dance for me."

"May I have a drink?"


She padded out into the kitchen, poured a double shot of vodka into a glass, and fished her iPod from her purse. Back in the living room she unplugged Frank's player and plugged hers in. She swiped the display, found the Loren's playlist, tapped the first song. Back on the floor at Loren's feet she sipped her drink, closed her eyes, let the familiar rhythm wash over her. She rocked slowly on her heels.

When the song ended she tossed back the last of her drink, rose to her feet, stepped with a gentle, but exaggerated hip thrust to the center of the room.

The music was soft, sensual and she rolled her hips to the beat, raised her arms, slid her hands slowly down over her breasts. She began to unbutton her shirt. It took almost half the song for her shirt to find it's way to the floor. Again she slid her hands over her breasts. She turned, ran her hands over her butt, bent and slid her fingers up her thigh, traced a line along the seam of her crotch.

She had learned to dance at the club. After college there was no work, but she found a job as a cocktail waitress at a strip club. That's where she'd met Frank and when she became his girlfriend he'd decided he didn't want her working there.

She never danced, but she'd been a dancer all her life: ballet, jazz, tap, you name it. Each girl had her personal playlist and day after day she watched them dance until the songs had been indelibly etched into her brain, even her body. Even years later, when a song came on the radio she'd find herself moving to it. She did it now dancing for Loren, had selected her favorite songs of the dancers she knew.

The third song was a bit harder, her hip thrusts a bit more pronounced, her breasts bouncing to the beat. About half way through the song her bra joined her shirt on the floor.

The next song was another slow one and she stepped over to Loren, leaned in on her, rubbed her breasts against Loren's. She could sense Loren's unease. It was fine when she was in charge, but now? She rubbed her breasts against Loren's some more, kept her face buried in Loren's hair. She kissed Loren's neck. Then she straightened a bit, brought her nipples up to Loren's lips, brushed them back amd forth, daring Loren to lick them, suck them.

She pulled back, unzipped her jeans, quickly pulled them down and off. There was no way to remove tight denim gracefully. Again she turned her back on Loren, again she bent, spread her legs, and caressed herself.

The fifth song was the slowest, sexiest. She didn't so much dance as rock, sway naked before Loren. She stroked herself every place she could reach. The song ended.

"Are you ready for your tail?"


That was the only acceptable answer, ready or not.

She stepped over to the stereo, thumbed her way to the belly dancing playlist. She danced her way back. She had actually taken belly dancing lessons, but this wasn't it. She turned, grinding her ass before sinking to her knees, legs spread. She imagined her pussy and anus in the crosshairs of Loren's vision and it made her blush. She settled her face on the floor, raised her ass higher, and ground her hips to the beat, in a circle this way, in a circle that way, in a figure-eight, in a quick-tempo buck.

As the beat changed she'd raise herself up on to her hands and get her whole body into sinuous writhing.

The song wound down. It was a long one, nearly ten minutes. She tensed. Loren came up behind her, dribbled lubricant on her anus, slid a finger into her. No one had ever done that. Not Frank, not even her doctor. And not even Loren all that often, but it was often enough - too often for her tastes.

She made little gasping sounds as Loren pressed the plug into her. It wasn't big. Bigger than a finger, but not two. Still her body objected and when it was finally firmly in place she had that distinctly uncomfortable full feeling we're all familiar with. She got her ass back in time with the music. Felt the whisp of hair stroke her thighs.

The second song was as long as the first, but more intense. She could feel the heat, the thin sheen of sweat as she ground and writhed on the floor.

The last song, though long, was much slower and she settled her face on the carpet and just rolled her hips to the rhythm. She played at keeping the tail in constant, continuous motion.


She reset the player once more, something soft, melodic. One of those new-age things that was pleasant enough but never seemed to go anywhere. Background music.

Loren raised her foot and she knelt, removed the booty. She kissed Loren's feet, top, bottom, front, back. She licked and sucked her toes. When Loren had had enough she raised her other foot and she repeated the process.

Loren lowered her foot and that was her cue. She ran her hands up Loren's legs, parted them, stroked her inner thighs, slid her hands under Loren's skirt and played with her bush. She liked Loren's bush. It was neatly trimmed, but thick and full. She could bury her fingers in it and she did. Loren eased forward. That was her next cue.

She unzipped Loren's skirt exposing her completely. She spread Loren's nether lips, leaned forward, and slid her tongue gently between them. She swayed her body slowly to the music, moving her tongue in time.

She continued to work her tongue, flicking it side to side, up and down. After several minutes of this Loren reached down, grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled. It was time to get serious.

Loren came three times, three delicate, gaspy little orgasms. And she wasn't faking. That was part of the penalty: She had to make Loren come. And she had to admit that since they'd begun this particular penalty she'd become pretty good at eating pussy. Not that she ever planned to do that. Well, only if she kept losing at cards.

Loren pushed her back and stood. She stood, too, and turned. Loren pulled the tail from her bottom and picked up the strap-on dildo.

She fastened the straps around Loren's hips and knelt, took the shaft in her mouth.

"That was in Artur's ass last night. He likes me to use it on him while I jerk him off."

Loren always said that and she had trouble believing it, just knowing Artur as she did. And it certainly tasted like clean, new plastic, but who knows. She sucked it.

"Come on. You can do better than that. You're always bragging about how you can deep-throat Frank."

She wasn't always bragging. In fact, the only time she'd brought it up was to ask for advice from Loren - who did brag. But she took the shaft deeper into her mouth.

"Play with yourself."

She slid her hand between her legs. After a bit she came. That was part of the penalty: It had to be real ... always.

Loren grabbed her by the hair and twisted, she turned and fell to her elbows. Loren rubbed the dildo between her nether lips until the head was just inside of her. Loren grabbed her hips and thrust.

The mantle clock chimed.

You can also leave feedback & comments for this story on the Plaza Forum - click here


If you've enjoyed this story, please write to the author and let them know - they may write more!
back to
erotic stories