Wrestling my stepsister

“I just want to make sure they’re OK,” she protested, grinning. “You could be injured. You could have to go to the hospital.”

I rolled my eyes. “My gonads are fine,” I assured her. “You just wait til I get you back.”

“Bring it!” she said, and slapped me in the face with my shorts again. Then she bounced away, leaving me half-naked on the couch.

That began the summer of our friendly rivalry. After that first hit on my balls, Amy would “sack-tap” me as she walked past, not hard enough to put me on the floor, but usually enough to make me bend over or crouch down. I quickly learned to guard my jewels when she was in the vicinity. In revenge, I started pantsing her. Amy usually wore sweatpants and a t-shirt or halter top around the house, but she typically didn’t wear underwear underneath, so when I yanked her sweats around her ankles she’d find herself abruptly bare-butt. She would shout and try to slap me, but I’d dance back and watch as she pulled up her pants before chasing after me. Once she even fell, and went down on the kitchen floor with her sweats tangled around her ankles. That was a fun one. After that, she started wisely wearing panties under her sweatpants.