Living with my PORNSTAR sisters-Chapter 8: Hidden in Plain Sight

The house felt strangely quiet that afternoon, the kind of quiet that settles after days of chaos—like the calm after a storm you know is coming back. Sasha and Blair were gone since dawn, off on a joint porn shoot somewhere in the Valley. They’d left with matching smirks, kissing Leo on the cheek in turn, promising to bring home "souvenirs" and warning him not to jerk off too much without them. He’d rolled his eyes, told them to be safe, and watched their asses sway out the door in matching yoga pants that left nothing to imagination.

Now it was just him. Alone. The house smelled faintly of their perfume and the lingering sex from the night before. Leo tried to distract himself—video games, scrolling X, half-hearted attempt at meal-prep—but his mind kept drifting back to the broken beds, the way Blair’s pussy had clenched around him on the floor, the way Sasha had screamed his name while the four-poster collapsed.

He was half-hard just thinking about it when the doorbell rang.

Leo opened the door.

Standing there was a boy—cute in that soft, almost delicate way. Oversized black hoodie swallowing his frame, baggy cargo pants, a backward baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. He looked maybe nineteen, maybe younger. Shy smile. Hands stuffed in the hoodie pocket.

"Uh... hi. Sorry to bother you," the boy mumbled, voice surprisingly light. "I’m your new neighbor—moved in next door last week. My father sent me to ask if we could borrow, like... a cup of sugar? We’re baking and ran out."

Leo blinked. Cute boy. Harmless. He stepped aside.

"Yeah, sure. Come in. Sugar’s in the kitchen."

The boy hesitated for half a second, then shuffled inside, sneakers squeaking faintly on the hardwood. Leo closed the door behind him.

They walked to the kitchen in awkward silence. Leo kept his eyes forward—mostly. But as the boy passed him, Leo’s gaze dropped.

And froze.

The baggy cargo pants did nothing to hide it. The ass was obscene. Thick, round, impossibly curvy—cheeks so full they strained the fabric with every step, jiggling slightly when the boy shifted his weight. The kind of ass that belonged on a thirst-trap Instagram reel, not on some skinny twink asking for sugar.

Leo’s brain short-circuited.

If this was a girl... fuck. I’d have her bent over the counter already. No questions. Just raw, animal need. That ass deserves to be spread, slapped, eaten, fucked until it’s red and gaping.

His cock twitched hard in his sweatpants. He had to adjust himself discreetly, turning toward the pantry so the boy wouldn’t see the growing bulge.

Get it together, he told himself. You’re not gay. You just fucked your step-sisters into breaking furniture. You like pussy. Wet, tight, squirting pussy.

But the voice in his head wouldn’t shut up.

What’s wrong with being a little gay? Look at that fucking ass. Imagine burying your face between those cheeks. Tongue-fucking that tight little hole while those thick thighs shake around your ears. Imagine sliding your cock between them, hotdogging that fat bubble butt until you paint it white.

Leo’s hands shook slightly as he grabbed the sugar canister.

"Here," he said, voice rougher than he intended. He thrust the container toward the boy. "Take what you need."

The boy smiled—sweet, almost shy—and reached for it. Their fingers brushed again. Another spark.

"Thanks, man. You’re a lifesaver."

He turned to leave.

Leo watched that ass sway toward the door—each step a hypnotic bounce—and felt his mouth go dry.

The boy paused at the threshold.

"Oh—shit—my phone."

He patted his pockets, spun back around—and the backward cap slipped off completely as he bent to look under the entry table.

Long, glossy black hair cascaded down—streaked with shimmering gold highlights that caught the afternoon light like silk. It tumbled past narrow shoulders, framing a face that was suddenly, unmistakably feminine. Delicate jaw. Full lips. Long lashes. Cheekbones that could cut glass.

The "boy" froze, realizing what had happened.

Leo stared.

The sugar canister nearly slipped from his fingers.

The girl—because she was very clearly a girl—straightened slowly. Her cheeks flushed pink. She reached up to grab the fallen cap, but it was too late.

Leo’s brain rebooted in slow motion.

The oversized hoodie. The baggy pants hiding curves. The soft voice. The ass that didn’t make sense on any boy.

She wasn’t hiding from him specifically. She was hiding from everyone.

But now the secret was out—at least in this house.

Her eyes met his. Wide. Nervous. A little defiant.

Leo’s cock throbbed painfully against his sweatpants, fully hard now, tenting the front obscenely.

Neither of them moved.

The silence stretched—thick, electric, loaded.

Then she spoke, voice barely above a whisper.

"I... should go."

But she didn’t.

She just stood there—hair spilling over her shoulders, cap forgotten on the floor—waiting to see what Leo would do next.

And Leo—heart slamming, mind racing, dick aching—realized he had a choice.

Let her leave.

Or close the door.

And find out exactly how that perfect, thick ass tasted.

He took one step forward.