I'll Give You All The Answers

Tyler's hunkered down, nose buried in his notes for Mr. Ford's killer test, but damn if his firecracker step-sis Samantha Rone isn't the ultimate buzzkill. Her back's been screaming at her for weeks, and she's got this pouty plea for one of his killer massages—says it'll fix her right up. But Tyler's clock is ticking; he can't spare a minute. Enter Samantha's ace in the hole: she's swiped all the test answers, and she's dangling them like forbidden fruit. Tyler caves, grumbling the whole way, but oh, she's just warming up her game. She peels off her top and shorts right there in front of him, all casual and smirking. 'Eyes elsewhere, perv!' she teases with an eye-roll, but hell, she's twisting just enough to make it impossible. Her demands ramp up quick—'Get those hands on my ass now,' she purrs, then 'Don't skip the cheeks, make 'em glow.' Before he knows it, she's flipping over, shoving her perky little tits his way. 'Knead 'em good, bro—pinch those nipples till they stand at attention.' Tyler's sweating bullets, heart pounding like a drum solo, when her sly fingers snake to his zipper. He bolts upright, freaking the fuck out—'Samantha, what the hell?' But she's got those answers locked down tight, eyes gleaming with mischief. 'Wanna pass this test or what? Come on, fuck your sis senseless if that's what it takes.' His head's yelling 'abort mission, this is twisted,' but let's face it, brains got him nowhere this whole damn year. Time to let the little head call the shots—plunge in deep, give her the pounding of a lifetime, and snag those answers on the way out.