Fuck me, Step-Douche!

She’s barely legal and already this demanding. The minute she pushes the door open, Bill is still rinsing the soap off his shoulders. She stands there in her birthday outfit, heels clicking once against the tile. He turns off the water. His cock hangs heavy, half hard from the heat. She points at it and says she wants her present now. No wrappers. No waiting. He steps out dripping, grips her chin, makes her look up at him. She opens her mouth without being told. He feeds her the head, then the rest, slow at first, then deeper. She gags once, laughs through it, likes the way he holds her hair tight. Her tongue slides under him, and her fingers curl around his shaft, jerking what her throat can’t take. When she pulls off, spit strings from her lips to his slit. She turns, steps out of her panties, plants one foot on the edge of the tub. The sole is pale, soft-looking. She wiggles her toes. He knows what she’s asking. He kneels, presses his tongue flat against the arch, tastes salt and lotion, then sucks two toes into his mouth while she watches. Her other hand finds her pussy, two fingers already pushing inside. She keeps her foot there, heel against his cock, rubbing the length between her toes and the ball of her foot while he sucks. He stands again. She bends forward over the sink. He lines up and sinks into her in one hard stroke. She pushes back until he bottoms out. Every thrust rocks her onto her toes. She’s tight, wet, loud when she comes. He pulls out at the last second, strokes once, twice, and paints her lower back in thick ropes. She looks over her shoulder, smiles like she got exactly what she wanted.