The air in my sister Lila's room was thick with the scent of her perfume and my own shame. I'd been stealing her panties for weeks—silky thongs and lace boyshorts that felt like heaven against my skin. I'd wait until she was out, slip into her drawer, and pick my favorite pair. Tonight, it was a black lace number that hugged my growing bulge perfectly.

I was in her closet, one hand working my hard dick through the delicate fabric, my other clutching a matching bra I'd stuffed with socks. My eyes were closed, lost in the fantasy of being her, feeling pretty and slutty all at once. The slick sound of my pre-cum lubing the lace filled the small space.

That's when the closet door flew open.

Lila stood there, arms crossed, a smirk playing on her lips. Her eyes raked over me—the stolen bra, the panties stretched tight over my erection. "Well, well," she purred, her voice dripping with amusement. "Look what the cat dragged in. Or should I say, what the dog dragged in?"

My face burned. I tried to cover myself, but she clicked her tongue. "Uh-uh. Hands at your sides, puppy."

The humiliation was a hot wave through me. She stepped closer, her finger tracing the outline of my cock through the lace. I shuddered. "You like wearing my things, don't you?" she whispered. "You get off on it. I can feel how hard you are." She gave my dick a firm squeeze, and I gasped. "But stealing is wrong, little brother. And now, you owe me."

She backed away, sitting on