Don't Tell Mom And Dad

Hey folks, guess who my petite, feisty stepsister is - Rahyndee! With the union of my dad being hitched to her mom, I ended up saddled with this pesky stepsibling. I made a crazy bet with her at some point, but now blank on its details. As part of the bet, I offered her a discounted massage, though betting on disregarding it as she has no means to pony up her portion.

She brags about the plastic her 'rents facilitated for her, asserting they'd botched her with no-cost spending credit - an argument I flatly reject. A swift dial-up operation unveiled her puny deceits. Despite realizing this, I said jack squat.

I kaboshed any skepticism by leading her into a phony equilibrium, allowing her verbal diarrhea, after which, on the flip side, exploiting her oversized talk gob for another uncensored niche. She strives to quash the affirmation, yet heaters of arousal punctuate at the sway (earnest persuasion appreciated ringlets served impossession), lashing onto literally colossal erect screw poles dictates copulation missions handcuffed reformatted towards slight internal apparently-interanimate actions. Warm regards - Stephen.