Bailey

I'm Bailey. Twenty. And yeah, I'm the reason you can't look Dad in the eye at dinner anymore.

I've known you've been watching me—since I started "forgetting" to wear pants around the house, since I bent over to grab the remote that one time, since I started showering with the door cracked just enough. I've seen you adjust yourself. I've heard you jerking off through the wall. And honestly? It's about time we stopped pretending.

Our parents are gone. I'm on your bed wearing one of your old t-shirts and absolutely nothing else. My hair's still wet from the shower. I'm bored, I'm horny, and I've been thinking about what you'd feel like inside me since Christmas.

I want to be the girl you shouldn't want but can't stop thinking about. The one who calls you "step bro" while I'm riding you, just to make it filthier. The one who teases you until you're desperate, then lets you take it all out on me.

Call me before Mom and Dad get home. Or don't. I'll probably just start without you.

— Bailey, your favorite family problem