Not All Stepsisters Are Evil
Copyright© 2026 by TheDarkKnight
Chapter 1: My New Family
Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 1: My New Family - When I was fifteen, my father remarried after being a widower for several years. I suddenly found myself with two stepsisters, vivacious twins a year younger than I was, full of energy and curiosity. It took me a while to go from being an only child with one parent to being part of a busy family, but once I adjusted, I found that having stepsisters wasn’t a bad thing at all. (Note: story codes will be added as the story continues)
Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft Consensual Heterosexual Fiction First Masturbation Small Breasts
I was ten when my mother died. It wasn’t because of some slow, painful medical problem or devastating disease. We didn’t live in a soap opera. Instead, Mom’s road to heaven was short and not very sweet. She went to a bridal shower, had a few too many margaritas, and pulled out of the parking lot into the path of some hillbilly in a beat-up old pickup truck with bad brakes. She took him with her, so I guess that was the last good thing she did in the world. If that seems cold, well, that’s how I remember my mother, distant and self-centered.
Fortunately, my father, Travis Brown, and I were more like best friends than father and son. After the funeral, and boy, that was a lot of fun, he sat me down, and we had a serious talk. Cutting to the chase, he told me I had to grow up in a hurry, and it was just him and me, and blah, blah, blah.
Actually, things worked out pretty well for us. By the time I was twelve, I’d learned the basics of cooking and doing laundry, part of that growing-up thing dad had told me about. As an only child with a single dad, I had lots of time to myself, maybe too much, but that problem was eventually resolved in a most pleasant way, but I’m getting ahead of myself.
A couple of years after my mom passed (what a stupid expression, she didn’t pass anything, except maybe some gas when she saw that truck bearing down on her), my dad started dating. I thought he was just trying to meet the new Mrs. Harvin and provide me with a new mother, but after a while, I realized it was also about him just wanting to get laid. By that time, I was fifteen, and certainly understood that need. It didn’t take long for him to meet a woman who fulfilled both our needs.
She was an energetic 40-year-old divorcee named Marge LaBarge. Stupid name, but she was kind of sexy, and seemed to make my dad happy, and when I began to think of her as possibly my new mother, the idea appealed to me.
My dad told me Marge had two daughters, but he didn’t tell me much more about them other than that they were twins, their names were Katie and Kiley, and, in his words, were “so skinny that Marge puts rocks in their backpacks so they won’t blow away on windy days.” That’s dad, full of corny, down-home stuff like that. The idea of suddenly gaining two sisters worried me, but if Dad was happy with Marge, I was willing to set my concerns aside.
I finally met them one night, when Marge and her daughters cooked dinner for the five of us. I knew it was kind of a trial run for us as a family, compatibility and all that, so I was on my best behavior. I wore a white, button-down shirt and grey slacks instead of my usual t-shirt and shorts. Katie and Kiley were wearing baggy shorts and sweatshirts from their school. I felt a little overdressed, but - what’s that expression, better overdressed than undressed?
They were petite and cute, and like Dad had told me, kind of skinny. If he hadn’t already told me they were fourteen, a year younger than I was, I might have guessed they were twelve or so. They had pale skin and black, very curly hair. One of them, whom I found out was Katie, put more effort into keeping her curls under control, but her sister Kiley let hers run wild. She called it her ‘mop’. At first, that was the only way I could tell them apart. I had never been around identical twins before, and it took some getting used to.
When my dad and Marge decided to get married, the biggest decision was where we would live. The solution they came up with was to sell both of their homes and use the proceeds to buy a larger one for our expanding family. Our new home had four bedrooms and an equal number of bathrooms, which meant that the twins and I each had our own bedroom and bath. That made the process of us all living together easier. Having my own private space was important to me because I had been used to it just being dad and me for the last few years. I didn’t want to have to remember to put the toilet seat down every time I used it.
Another reason our parents picked that home was its location. It was in a neighborhood near the schools we had been attending, so none of us would have to endure the trauma of changing schools midyear. Katie and Kiley were ninth graders at Channing Junior High, which was close enough that they could ride their bikes to school. I was in the middle of my freshman year at Wilson High, and rode a school bus.
The twins had lots of friends who wanted to see their new home. At first, I was intimidated by having all those young girls around. I usually retreated to my room when my sister’s friends came over, but I gradually got used to it and started hanging out with them when they visited. That’s how I found out the twins’ nickname at school was ‘The K’s’. I liked that and started using it myself. I often came home from school to the sounds of young girls’ laughter and chatter echoing through the house. I didn’t mind that at all. Some of The K’s friends were really cute, and a couple were knock-out gorgeous. When they visited, I tried to find excuses to hang around with them without seeming too creepy.
I was still getting used to my new, busier, noisier world when something strange happened one Friday. I’d stayed late at school for a chess club meeting and didn’t get home until almost four-thirty. I saw The K’s bikes lying in the grass, where they usually left them, so I expected to hear Katie’s stereo blasting or the sounds of one of Kiley’s video games when I came in. I was surprised at the kinds of games Kiley played, but she loved “blowing shit up” and “killing zombies”. Not that day. Things were eerily quiet.
I headed down the hall to our rooms. The twins’ rooms were on each side of the hall, and my room was at the end. I thought maybe both girls had already started on their weekend homework, which was not normal for them, but when I passed by their rooms, both doors were open, and their rooms were empty.
I headed toward my room when I saw that my door was slightly open. That set off alarm bells. I always closed it when I left in the morning. Like most teenage boys, I had a few ‘sensitive’ things in my room that I wasn’t ready to share with my new sisters. The door was open wide enough that I could see Katie and Kiley lying on their bellies on my bed, looking at a magazine spread out between them. They hadn’t noticed me yet, which gave me a few seconds to watch them. They might have been skinny, but nature had provided them with surprisingly full, round bottoms that their tight jeans displayed nicely. I desperately wanted to touch those pillow-like mounds, but I knew better.
I guess I must have made some sound, because they turned and saw me in the doorway. That’s when I saw what they were looking at, and my heart sank. It was the most embarrassing thing they could have found - a magazine titled “Lollipop Cuties”, with a picture on the cover that matched the title. I was pissed, scared, and embarrassed all at once.
“What are you doing here?” I shouted. It seemed like my own defense in that situation was anger. They had invaded my privacy, a rule we had all agreed to when we became a family.
“Duh, what does it look like, Ray?” Katie said, “We’re checkin’ out your girlie mags. Do you beat off to these every night?”
That question, coming from my new stepsister, was almost as shocking as finding them in my room. I hadn’t expected it, and it was a tricky one to answer. It was too much on point, but I wasn’t ready to admit how much of a horndog I was, so I tried to deflect their curiosity by using more of my anger. “Get the hell out of my room and leave my stuff alone.”
“Sure,” Kiley said, “but I guess we’ll just have to tell mom what kind of pervert stepson she has. Maybe we should tell your dad, too.”
“Why would you do that?” I pleaded. They had me, as the saying goes, by the short hairs, even though in those days my pubic patch was scanty.
“Because we’re evil stepsisters,” Katie said, smirking as she answered my question. “Ever hear of Cinderella?”
“Sure,” I told them, “and I’m Prince Charming.”
I jumped on the bed and tried to grab ‘Lollipop Cuties’ out of Katie’s hands. That led to a brief scuffle on my bed, and I ended up on top of her, both of us holding the magazine in a death grip. I was straddling Katie’s legs and holding her down with one elbow while we wrestled. Her shirt pushed up far enough to let me see her bra, a first for me. She hardly needed one. I didn’t know much about bras in those days, but it looked small, like what I had heard some girls call an A-cup. Even so, the sight of her meager swellings was enough to turn me on. I felt myself beginning to get an erection, something that happened often at that age. I didn’t want Katie or her sister to know what was happening, so I pushed my body up a little to keep my tumescent cock from pressing against her slim body.
It was kind of a standoff, then Katie took one hand away from her grip on the magazine, reached down, and rubbed my jeans, feeling my swollen dick. “Hey, look, Kiley, he’s gettin’ hard. Geez, Ray, you don’t have to rape me. If you want some, all you have to do is ask, or would you rather jack off to these ... cuties? Looks like you don’t even have to look at pictures to get turned on. Want me to give you a hand job? I’m pretty good at it.”
Kiley, who had been silently watching the battle and listening to her sister ramble on, jumped in then and said, “Don’t believe her, Ray. She’s never done anything like that. Neither of us has. She just likes to act like she’s experienced.”
Katie and I were still fighting over the magazine. I’d paid Roger Simmons a week’s allowance for it, and it had been passed around a lot before he sold it to me, so it was fragile and could have been torn easily. Not wanting that to happen, I gave up the struggle and rolled off of her. “Don’t tear it,” I pleaded, “I paid a lot for it.”
“You have more of ‘em?” Katie asked.
I hesitated, still not willing to disclose all my secrets, but since the K’s had obviously been in my room for a while, I figured they might have already discovered the rest of my stash, so I didn’t see any point in lying. “I’ve got a few more in the closet, under my camping gear.”
Kiley dove into my closet and came out a moment later with the rest of my collection: an old Penthouse that was missing the centerfold, a Hustler, and the most secret of all, a couple of hardcore porn mags from somewhere in Europe. In those days, before the internet was widely available, those magazines were hard to find, which made them the most valuable part of my collection. I got them from Jason Rangel for twenty bucks. I never did find out what his source was, but he always seemed to have good stuff to sell. These days, I guess he would be a high school drug dealer.