Sister Stories: Bait & Switch

Ivy catches Carter on the phone, hears the word girlfriend, and smirks. Sister likes girls—perfect. She scribbles a note, loops some pretend script, signs it Gina, slips it under Carter’s door. The message is plain: midnight, back door unlocked, lights off, wait for me. At twelve Ivy moves barefoot through the dark hallway, steps inside, shuts the door behind her with a quiet click. Carter stands exactly where she should—naked, breathless, blind to everything except the fantasy. Ivy steps in close, mouth at her ear. “Don’t speak,” she whispers. Carter obeys, lips parting but nothing coming out. Ivy’s hands slide up from behind, palms cupping warm tits, thumbs circling hard nipples. She drags her teeth along Carter’s neck, bites, sucks until a soft bruise blooms. When Carter tries again to talk, Ivy presses two fingers over her mouth. “Eyes closed. Keep them closed.” Carter nods, hands trembling as she brings them up to cover her own face. Ivy spins her around, guides her down onto the couch, pushes her thighs apart. Two fingers dip straight between slick folds, slide in deep, curl. Carter bucks, bites her own palm to stay quiet. Ivy licks a wet stripe up the inside of her thigh, then climbs on top, lines their cunts up, starts rolling her hips slow and heavy. The wet sound fills the room. Carter’s breath hitches into something desperate, almost a cry. Ivy grinds harder, clit dragging, slick mixing, heat tightening. Carter opens her eyes, sees Ivy’s face above her instead of Gina’s. She shoves hard, scrambles backward. “What the fuck, Ivy—?” Ivy doesn’t flinch. “We’re only stepsisters. It’s not like we grew up together.” She climbs back on, pins Carter’s wrists, kisses her hard—tongue, teeth, no hesitation. Carter twists, voice cracking. “Mom and Dad, if they—” Ivy answers against her lips. “They won’t. This is ours. Our little secret.”