You find your phone and you have a text.
From Create Your Own Story
"Oof. I can't quite reach it," you say, wiggling your butt. You know Steve's eyes aren't on his paper now. They're firmly glued to the shapely posterior you keep wagging in his direction. Even when you do grab the phone you keep moving your butt, taunting him. It's not like the coward would actually do anything. It took a bit of coaxing from your friends to do it, but now you act like a wanton slut around him. At least when your mom isn't in the room.
Turning the phone over you see a text on it that arrived just as the phone was clattering across the floor.
'cmon over. ez access' it reads beneath a brand new crack.
"Damn."
"Huh?" Steve responds, genius-like as usual.
Knowing he'd be pissed over the damaged phone - he liked to grouse about how much money he had to spend on you and your mother - you quickly typed 'cumming' pressed the phone against yourself as you stood up.
"I think I'm gonna get changed," you say, lifting your weight off your squished tits and looking back at your step-dad. Sure enough, his eyes are right where you knew they'd be, and his mind is definitely not at its sharpest.
"But you just changed."
"Yeah, I think I'm gonna go out. I've gotta get something that's better for a hot day. You know, less fabric," you wink and straighten up, pushing your hands against your back before sticking your hands in the air and stretching. Now that got his eyes off your ass. Now they're firmly on your big tits.
Smirking, you stand up and leave the kitchen, going upstairs to your room, where you leave the door open as always.
Slipping your clothes off you open your wardrobe, standing naked in front of it, aware that the corridor behind you would let him see you if he came upstairs. Your mom long ago gave up on telling you to close your door, especially after you asked, wide-eyed, why you'd have to worry about being naked around family.
"Easy access, huh?" you mutter to yourself, eyeing your clothes for something that fit the bill.
After your mom re-married she wanted a new start, so the three of you moved down south to warmer climes. It meant that you were joining school mid-way through high school. With your looks you should have been top of the heap, but somehow you never got out of the bottom. Maybe it was the lack of killer instinct. You learned to love teasing, but you never learned how to boss people around. Instead you always seemed to be the one taking the orders. It wasn't fair, but the last thing you wanted was to be kicked out of the group. Even with graduation around the corner it'd be utterly humiliating to go to prom without a cool date.
One of the side effects of being bottom of the heap was that the gang loved bossing you around, dressing you up in ways they liked. Most of your wardrobe was picked by them, and what was once a modest, good-girl collection of clothes now screamed 'TRAMP!'
Back in your old home-town the most daring thing you'd done was steal a ball gag and dildo from a friend's house. They'd belonged to the girl's mother, and you giggle whenever you think about how she'd probably been blamed as the thief. The two had come in handy since then. Your escapades with your new friends often left you needing release, and that mammoth dildo did the job so well you needed the gag to muffle your orgasms. Yeah, you were definitely a screamer.
Smiling dreamily over at the hiding spot where it resides, you dimly recall that you still haven't washed it since getting it. Promising yourself yet again that you'll do that later, some part of you knows its a lie. Whenever you pick it up your mind turns to one thing. Plunging it in and out as fast and hard as you can.
"This ought to do," you say, picking out an outfit. Naturally it doesn't include panties, since that would hinder access.
You pick out...
A teeny weenie little bikini gives easy access to everything
A miniskirt that borders on micro, and a severely cropped top
