Why teens don't make their beds?
Sweet eighteen and on the prowl for her stepbrother.
Step parents, like any adults managing a household and trying to keep it presentable and tidy, insist that the young college offspring under their roof pull their weight with the basics and at least keep their bras and jocks off the floor, leave the bathroom tidy, and the one that is so frickin easy; make your own goddamn bed.
You know, it's just pulling up and fluffing out the doona every morning; maximum thirty-second input. Not too much to ask. Well, it seemed too much to ask of both J'Arnie and Hamish.
J'Arnie Rogers and Hamish McDonald recently moved into a new two-storey outer suburban home. It was their first time sharing, and their stepparents wanted a fresh start together.
J'Arnie never had that reticent doubt about her stepbrother. Cock on tap was cock on tap.
Hamish was pussy orientated like any other senior college lad.
Of course, their newly joined parents naively believed the pair were mature and getting on with the new melding. Just coping with the merge like young adults.
Hamish and J'Arnie were about to meld alright.
And; you can't make your bed while fucking on top of it.
J'Arnie was dressed for her new school—well if you can call a short skirt that barely held soft, fresh, white, high-cut cotton undies in check — a skirt!
Wow, did our Miss have great thighs. Her freshly shaved legs were insanely smooth.
And God, did they carry her five-foot-five frame perfectly. Her long brunette hair spread loose except for a hair braid. Her white blouse opened to her appealing cleavage and only hid her lacey white bra, but not her chesty teasy curves.
J'Arnie had cute muffin titties and knew it.
The cutey had put some moisturiser on her face and just a tad downstairs; well, it was freshly shaved coochie; this morning, too.
Hey, a girl's legs can't always take the shaving lead.
Hamish knew his step-sister's gorgeous chest accessories; headlights came to mind. However, he didn't realise this morning, three days into a new house, that he would get to fondle her cupcakes and slam-dunk her on his own bed.
Our blonde basketball player, the six-footer, had his jocks on and had just remembered the new house instruction; make your frickin bed every morning. He was about to —
J'Arnie, in her rush to Hamish's room, hadn't made her own bed.
Geez, a coochie filling comes before tidiness any day.
The brunette's timing was perfect. Hamish was bent over, about to pull up his doona.
"Great arse," said J'Arnie as she pulled down his jocks.
"Wow, your packing cock", she got out too as she instantly fondled his meat stick in all the right places.
Hamish knew he had fifteen minutes before they were out the door.
The big lad knew you could do a frickin lot with a hot girl's body in a quarter of an hour, especially if you get to the erogenous parts fast forward.
He was unbuttoning her blouse like a pro and had her bra unclipped in a single deft action.
Out popped two stunners.
He was not disappointed.
"Fuck, I knew they would be cute."
"Yeah, I already know that. Well, lick and squeeze them; that's what they need."
Hamish's head was down, and his tongue was busy.
Sucking and flicking.
He knew the drill, and he wasn't here to tread water.
J'Arnie was super aroused.
She had a bit of play as the moisturiser tantalised her fem-pleats a few minutes ago.
She was wet already.
Self-help is a great thing.
The blonde had his brunette steppie back on his bed. Legs splayed. Only the dazzling white of crotch panties between his tongue and a girly gash.
"Fuck...Wow...My God," he got out as he yanked them to the side and got tongue burrowing.
She was neat, sweet, and keen.
This living with a step-sister thing was certainly going to work out!
Hamish went the whole mouth seal and suck. Well, shaved coochie does that to a guy. He had everything covered, and everything tasted, and everything excited.
"Oh shit...oh yeah...you bad, bad boy, mmm...god that's good...god your bad...yeah...yeah...great...mmm....ooh...ooh..."
The blonde realised his step-sister was cumming and loudly.
Fuck, he thought Dad better be downstairs.
Despite the risk, Hamish had to finish her off and knew J'Arnie wouldn't settle for anything less.
Boy, she came loud, "Ah, ah, ah," from J'Arnie.
Then, with a delighted smile, she went on a pecker hunt.
Sure, steady and assured, Hamish got quality cock in mouth treatment.
He could have lay back on his bed all day.
"Christ, we only have a few minutes; get your dick in here fast," said J'Arnie, spreading her legs on the edge of Hamish's bed.
Hamish's meat was already there.
Hard and soft melding. Then, grinding and shaping instantly in dual pleasure.
"Fuck me harder; fuck me hard," she insisted.
The blonde heard the slutty words, and he spread her legs wider and higher and started the deep piston thrusting.
The really deep, hard and fast pummeling.
"Oh yeah...you know what I like....oh god...yeah...deeper...you bastard....fuckin cream me...oh...mmm...mmm...shit...fuck..."
J'Arnie was reduced to basic sluttishness.
Pleasure dominated her young body.
While Hamish was thrusting and holding her legs wide, she was bending her lithe young body upwards and clenching her cunny muscles.
Well, a girl has to make sure she gets everything she needs. And at this very instance, it was a second frickin' orgasm, as she didn't have time to test out Hamish's skill with her private starfish this morning.
We can only say that it was a double-storey house, and the kitchen was a fair way away.
As the blonde was groaning in closer by the second, jizz released joy, and the brunette tart was bacchanale in her potty mouthy ecstasy.
"Oh shit yeah...you dirty bastard...keep it deep...keep it fast..." and she was touching her own clitty and sweeping through any remaining preliminaries to her orgasmic rush.
Hamish was cuntstruck.
God, his step-sister was a bad, bad girl, but she was so fuckin hot, and he wanted to cream her deep, and he did.
"Awh...Awh...Awh," went Hamish, one for each heavenly rapid spurt of cock seed creaming J'Arnie.
"Fuck me...ooh.... ooh.... oooh," went J'Arnie loudly as she frigged herself off to her second climax and felt her juices dribbling out with Hamish's warm white gooey deposit.
"Hamish, J'Arnie," called the brunette's mum from the bottom of the stairs.
"Quickly, it's time to go. What are you doing? It's time to go."
Well, they were tidying themselves up, grabbing bags, and pelting down the stairs, through the kitchen, out the side door to the garage, and off to college.
"What, no breakfast!" said Mrs Rogers to herself, pouring a second cup of coffee.
She went upstairs to start vacuuming.
She became peeved.
J'Arnie's bed was unmade, and she had promised to do better in this new house.
And Ted had said Hamish was a tidy boy; well, that didn't appear to be the truth; his bed was a frickin mess.
God, how could it get so messy?
And Delia Rogers was left contemplating: Why don't teens make their beds?
Well, if she knew the answer…