We were shooting the bedroom scene at 7:15 p.m., leveraging the natural darkness outside to setup top-quality interior lighting that gave the room a deeply sensual, intimate glow.

​The crew had meticulously dressed an extra room, setting up a luxurious bed with silk sheets—a perfect, believable environment. Having quickly absorbed the details of the storyboard and with the cameras now rolling, I lay in the bed, playing the character of the unsuspecting stepbrother about to be seduced by his stepsister, played by Willow.

​I heard her coming, the subtle sound of her footsteps barely registering as she tip-toed into the room, the camera following her every soft movement. I knew her costume: a tight, thin cotton t-shirt that revealed the prominent, hard points of her nipples underneath, and tiny, pink lace underwear hidden beneath the sheet line.

​I had seen her before we started shooting, and my cock was already starting to strain, growing rock-hard just from the palpable anticipation of her presence. Based on her flawless titty fuck during the interview, I held the satisfying certainty that her pussy would be incredibly tight.

​She slowly opened the sheets and slid into the bed, her movements quiet and deliberate, as I expertly played the role of the deep sleeper. She settled in, turning her back completely to me. I pretended not to hear a thing, maintaining my character's stillness.

​A full minute passed—an eternity under the blazing lights—as I fought the urge to reach out and pull her to me. I was already dying to fill her pussy with my cock.

​Then, she stirred, the planned physical contact happening as her elbow lightly bumped my side.

​I instantly snapped my eyes open, feigning confusion and shock.

​"Willow, what the fuck?" I said, turning and gently shaking her shoulder.

​She turned slowly, her blue eyes wide and innocent, yet carrying a mischievous depth. "What?"

​"Why are you in my bed? What the fuck?" I repeated, injecting the appropriate level of startled discomfort expected of a brother finding his stepsister in his bed.

​"Bro, chill," she said, her voice dropping into a soft, pleading tone. "I can't sleep alone in my room..."

​"And why the fuck can't you sleep in your room?" I demanded, my voice low and exasperated.

​"I'm scared," she said, leaning slightly closer. "Mom and Dad are not home, and I always sleep next to their room so I can visit them when I have nightmares. Your room is far from mine, so I decided to come and sleep with you."

​"Willow, when did you start having nightmares?" I challenged, my tone immediately suspicious. "You're lying."

​"I have them all the time," she insisted, meeting my gaze. "It's just that I never tell you. Can I sleep with you?"

​"Hell fucking no. We can't sleep together," I countered, sitting up slightly.

​"Why not?" she pushed back, her voice suddenly laced with that planned, seductive undertone, her body subtly moving closer to mine beneath the sheets.

​"You are my step-sister. What is wrong with you?" I said, letting the conflict escalate.

​I maintained a stiff posture, trying to hold the line of brotherly indignation, but Willow was persistent, her character performance flawless.

​"Come on, please," she begged again, softening her voice until it was almost a desperate purr. She reached out, her hand gently resting on my forearm. "You're supposed to be my big brother. You're supposed to protect me when I'm scared."

​She let her eyes widen, manufacturing the perfect, vulnerable, teen appeal. "It's just sleeping, okay? You can even stay on your side of the bed. I just need to know someone is here."

​I let out a heavy, theatrical sigh, pretending to give in reluctantly. The camera would capture the moment of my reluctant surrender.

​"Fine. Fine, but don't move," I grumbled, my voice still betraying a hint of annoyance. "If you so much as nudge me, you're out. You're a big girl, you should be sleeping in your own damn room."

​I settled back down, turning my back to her. I could feel her presence immediately—the sudden, intense heat radiating from her young body right behind me. The scent of her shampoo, combined with the faint, sweet smell of her skin, was instantly intoxicating.

​A few moments passed, the tension thick in the small space beneath the sheets. I could feel the silk of her t-shirt brush against my back as she shifted closer. My cock, already hard, pressed insistently against the sheet.

​Then, her hand moved again, hesitantly at first, then with more purpose. She didn't touch me directly, but reached over to the bedside table and quickly turned off the lamp, plunging the room into the rich, cinematic darkness lit only by the soft, strategic studio lighting.

​"Good night, Bro," she whispered, her voice right next to my ear. But there was nothing innocent about the way her breath feathered across my skin.

The soft darkness of the room amplified the silence and the anticipation. I could feel the tension radiating off her small frame right behind me.

​Then, she began to stir, feigning restless sleep. She shifted, turning and inching closer, her movements slow and subtle, designed to be excused as unconscious rolling. I felt the light pressure of her thigh brush against my leg.

​I couldn't maintain the pretense of sleep any longer. I slowly turned my body, facing her direction, keeping my head low as if just disturbed from a nap.

​As I turned, she shifted again, her body continuing its gradual advance across the bed. And then it happened: her soft, firm buttock, clad only in the thin pink underwear, came into gentle but undeniable contact with my erection.

​My cock, rock-hard and fully awake, pressed firmly against the warm curve of her ass. The feeling—that perfect, accidental contact—sent a massive jolt through me. I froze, maintaining the façade of a groggy, annoyed sleeper.

​She stilled instantly, lying close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off her. The tight t-shirt she wore was now barely a foot from my face. The scent of her hair and skin, combined with the pressure of her butt against my throbbing length, was almost unbearable.

Then, Willow let out a soft, low groan, perfectly timed to deepen the illusion of confusion.

​"Druski, what is that?" she murmured, her voice laced with sleepy confusion.

​"What is what?" I feigned annoyance, maintaining the innocence of my character.

​"That, pressing on my butt?" she pressed, the question now undeniably pointed.

​"Ugh... ohh. It's just my knee," I mumbled, trying to brush it off as quickly as possible.

​"No, it's not," she insisted, her voice dropping slightly, now carrying a hint of knowing curiosity. "It's... it's hard and feels sharper than a knee."

​"You are just imagining things, Willow. You should be sleeping," I said, trying one last time to push her away verbally, even as the hardness pressed against her was betraying my words.

​"You are so weird," she whispered. Then, deliberately, she fidgeted her butt, grinding it lightly against my hard length before slowly shifting a few inches away. The invitation was stark and undeniable.

​The camera tracking us moved in closer, focusing on the space between us under the sheets.

​I ignored the movement of the crew, concentrating solely on the powerful, throbbing need in my cock that demanded release. I reached down under the sheet and stroked my own erection once, the slick, hot feeling confirming its readiness.

​Then, with a decisive move, I stretched my hand out beneath the covers, my fingers finding the thin, pink lace of her underwear. I didn't ask permission. I hooked my fingers into the elastic of the waistband and pulled the panties down, peeling the wet, flimsy material over her ass cheeks and down her thighs, leaving her completely bare beneath the sheets.

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