After calling her friend, Ming, my stepsister told me of the "house rules" during our parents' absence. She was to wear sexy lingerie or scandalously brief bikinis, I was to go nude.
"Hey, you're in lingerie, and I'm fucking nude?" I said, petulantly. "How come?"
Gina smiled smugly: "That's so I can see what sort of an effect my lingerie's having on your cock."
I grinned. "Fair enough – but I've got one rule for you. You will wear high heels while you're parading around trying to get me hard."
It was her turn to ask a question: "Why?"
"Because you've got terrific legs and the height of the heels makes your calves and thighs look even more beautiful," I told her.
"Pervert," Gina laughed, then the 20-year-old shooed me out of her bedroom, saying she wanted to "surprise" me with her new lingerie outfit.
I went downstairs and resumed reading my men's magazine, although after our torrid sexual encounter bikini-clad models who didn't show anything in some magazine were pretty darned tame, I can tell you.
Minutes later, my slut stepsister marched into the lounge and paraded about like some runway model, displaying what she'd just bought.
The bra and panties were both made of shiny black satin. The bra was one of those half-cup jobs, which pushed her great 34-inch tits up into wonderful mounds. But at the upper part in the central point of each cup a pair of deep V shapes had been cut, which meant that her lovely pointy little nipples were completely uncovered. They were also erect.
At her crotch the panties – which were semi-thong style, so they only covered about half her terrific little tush – also had a V-shape cut in them, so while they weren't exactly crotchless panties, they were designed so that a man could put his cock in her cunt while she was wearing them.
My cock sprang to pretty immediate attention. When she saw that, Gina laughed: "See, you like my little lingerie parade, eh Brad?"
"It's so fucking tremendous it gives me an idea," I told her.
"What would that idea be, Brad?" she asked, mock coyly.
"Let's fuck!" I said.
Gina's reaction was to walk over to a large leather easy chair opposite mine. She sat down, spreading her thighs so they rested on the arms. "But first, eat me," she said as I walked, stiff-pricked over to her.
I knelt before her lovely little-lipped pussy and inhaled deeply. Fuck, she smelled so good! I ate her for a while, then she started to pant, so I stood and bent at the knees slightly until my eight-and-a-half inches was prodding at her cunt.
Then, inspired by her gorgeous little China doll face looking up at me, I thrust deep into her tight little velvet vagina and began to perform what I do best – except drink beer and fix cars, that is.
As I pounded away at her lovely little pussy I felt as if all my Christmasses had come at once. "You are so fuckin',
fuckin
'
beautiful," I told her, an obvious remark, since she knew how much I fancied her, of course.
"Brad," she smiled, stroking her nipples between her thumbs and forefingers, "do people sometimes tell you you use the 'fuck' word a little too much?"
I snorted, concentrating on my fucking, but also pissed at her remark. "You're a fine one to talk," I grunted, pressing deep into her, then pulling back almost to her outer cunt lips.
"OK, I use the word too much, too," she said, "but you do say it a lot."
I sighed. Here we go again! I'm a 20-year-old Denver old boy layabout who drinks too much beer with the boys and just wants to get laid as often as I fuckin' can. That and become a mechanic for some NASCAR team.
"Look," I said, trying not to lose a beat as I thrust back and forth in her tight, lubricated little love tunnel, "I was with the usual gang down at The Drunken Pig last night and we're talking about the Denver fuckin' Broncos."
Gina frowned as she thrust down against me on my upstrokes. "But it's the baseball season, Brad."
"Makes no difference to me and the gang," I panted, humping her glorious little body with piston-like strokes. "Anyway, football's the only sport in this town – 'cept fuckin', of course."
"Your point, exactly?" Gina asked, still fingering her pointy little nipples in that sexy little bra.
"Well," I sighed, heaving away at her, "this old bastard – he musta been 40 if he was a day – came over and said to us 'Don't you boys think you use the 'f' word too much?' He musta been a fuckin' Bible-basher."
"And you had a smart answer, I suppose," said Gina, whose movements were still going back and forth like a rabbit humping, despite our conversation.
"I told him 'Sure we fuckin' do, and we do it because we've got the fuckin' right to'. The fucker!"
"And what did he say?" she asked, her voice a little more excited now, I think she was nearing her climax.
"So he says to me 'And what gives you the
fucking
right, son?' And he put a real sarcastic tone on the 'f' word.
"So I told him: 'The fuckin' Constitution of the United States of America. Now fuck off'."
Gina roared out laughing, then punched me in the belly, playfully, of course, and said: "Lift me up and sit down, I want to come on you."
I put my hands beneath her sweet little ass and hoisted her into the air, her ankles gripping me around my back above my heaving buttocks. Then I turned and sat down in the chair. Gina slung her legs out wide so they lay on the chair's arms once more.
Then she started to control the pace of the fuck – oh, sorry – the copulation. Soon her the movements of her groin and ass against my cock and pubic bone had her panting, then she was yelling out: "I'm coming, Brad, I'm coming. Oooh, fuck."
Then she was there and she lay against me, her breasts heaving on my chest, her mouth covering mine with kisses.
I pulled from her mouth and grinned: "Watch your language!"
Ming called later in the afternoon, just after another bout of super sex between me and my stepsister, to say she'd arrive in Denver on Monday – the day after tomorrow. We said we'd pick her up.
"Great," I said. "That means we've got another day and a half of one-on-one fucking. Which bedroom you wanna sleep in?"
Gina, now getting "dressed" in one of her microscopic little bikinis so we could go out and sunbathe by the pool, looked at me sternly: "Hey, down tiger, down. You will sleep in your own bed, and I will sleep in mine."
I protested as I pulled on a little white thong to wear while lying by the pool. "What's the matter, sis? Gone off me all of a sudden?"
Gina laughed. "Hardly, Mr Monster Cock," she said. "But it's just that I've read so many stories about people getting surprised by parents who arrived home unexpectedly, there's no way I'm going to let my guard down. Mom would most definitely not approve of what we're doing, nor, I suspect would your dear daddy."
I had to agree. "You're right. I guess we'll have to make the most of the daylight hours."
"Well, not too many," said Gina. "I want to watch the third round of dad's tournament."
We played around by the pool for an hour or two, Gina drinking some faggy wine, me sucking on beers, then we went in to watch pop's efforts on the Geriatric Tour.
He ended the day a shot behind some character called Irwin, who's a fucking nuisance on the tour, winning far too much. There was a shot of him – dad, not Hale Irwin - kissing mom the cheek at the end of his round – a 69. My favorite fuckin' number!
The next day, we spent more time lying by the pool in the dry Denver heat, then we had sex, then we watched pop finish the final round of the Geriatric Tour tournament.
Dad's a good bunker player and a good putter. He's got a big green laid out behind the house, surrounded by four bunkers, and he plays splash shots for hour after hour. Then he putts for hour after hour.
From more than 20 feet I can't get a putt to within about five feet of the hole, 'cos the green's a really big undulating bastard, but dad's a great lag putter. Hell, they all are.
Anyway, Irwin does the unthinkable and bogeys the last hole. Dad sinks a 10-foot birdie putt and it's a fucking play-off!
Before they drove off they shook hands and wished each other good luck. Funny game, golf, eh? Anyway, dad drove into the left rough, found a greenside bunker with his second and darn me if he didn't hole out his sand shot. Irwin missed an eight footer to tie and pop had pocketed $250,000!
About an hour later, dad called and I answered. "I'm going straight on to Kansas to prepare for the Seniors Open," he told me, "and mom is coming on with me.
"Now you behave, no wild parties, keep your drunken friends out of my house, and keep that practice green mowed. Now, is everything all AOK with you and Gina?"
Well everything was so AOK it wasn't funny, but I thought it wouldn't be wise to enlighten him as to how AOK it all was.
"Sure, pop," I said. "She's doing a lot of studying and has invited a girlfriend down here to help her with them. There'll be no parties – everything's cool."
He grunted and I remembered I hadn't mentioned his victory.
"Hey, pop, fucking great win today," I told him.
"Thanks, Brad," he said, before adding: "Oh, and Brad? Please mind your language. You swear too much."
"Too fuckin' right," I said, trying to make a joke of it, but like that fucking Limey Queen Veronica, or whatever, he wasn't amused. He hung up.
I passed the news of our parents' continued absence to Gina and we had a dinner that she cooked. She insisted on celebrating dad's win with a bottle of fancy champagne – some crap called Krog, or Krug, or some such shit. Give me beer any day!
Monday morning we drove out to Denver International and collected Ming from her New York flight. I just drove around the block several times to save parking in the car park, and soon Gina emerged from arrivals with this tall, dark-haired stunner. I mean
stunner.