Morning light spilled through the blinds like it was laughing at us.
I woke to Mia already halfway up the ladder, naked from the waist down, shiny streaks of last night's four loads dried on her inner thighs. In her hand: the two pairs of Sophia's panties we'd ruined—still warm, sticky, and freshly pumped full of our mixed cum.
"Operation Gift for Mommy," she whispered, waving the red thong like a trophy. "You distract her in the kitchen. I'll slip these in her hamper."
Five minutes later we were downstairs. Sophia hummed over coffee in her robe, totally clueless that her stepkids had turned her expensive lace into cum-rags. Mia brushed past like nothing was wrong, "accidentally" dropping the sticky pair into the laundry basket while I hit Sophia with a dumb question about the renovation timeline.
We were back upstairs before Sophia even took her first sip.
Then my phone rang. Dad.
"Hey sport," he said on speaker. "Singapore deal's dragging. Extending another two weeks. You kids good?"
Mia's eyes lit up like Christmas. She mouthed two more weeks and dropped straight to her knees.
"Yeah, Dad, we're fine," I forced out, voice already cracking. "Totally fine."
"Great. Tell your mom and Mia I love them. Gotta run."
Call ended.
Mia didn't even let me set the phone down. She yanked my shorts to my ankles, swallowed my cock to the root in one greedy plunge, and started throat-fucking herself like she'd been starving.
"Fuck—" I hissed.
My 9 a.m. Zoom lecture was already live. Professor Ramirez's face filled the screen, twenty students in their boxes. I was supposed to present mid-term slides in ten minutes.
Mia popped off with a wet schlick, spit strings connecting her lips to my throbbing shaft. "You're on camera in five, little bro. Better stay quiet… or everyone hears your stepsister sucking your soul out through your dick."
She dove back down.
Obscene sounds filled the room—loud, sloppy gagging, tongue swirling the head on every upstroke. My mic was muted, thank God, but the camera was live. I had to sit perfectly still, face neutral, while my bratty stepsister bobbed like a pornstar.
Outside the door the renovation crew was already hammering and drilling—literally five feet away. The thin wood might as well have been paper.
Mia heard them too. She grinned around my cock and sucked harder, hollowing her cheeks, one hand cupping my balls while the other stroked what wouldn't fit.
My slides came up. Professor called my name.
I unmuted with a shaky click. "Y-yes, Professor. The economic impact of—"
Mia deepthroated me to the hilt and hummed.
The vibration shot straight to my balls.
I coughed to cover the groan.
A knock on the door. "Hey, we're sanding right outside this room for the next hour. Need anything?"
Mia froze with my cock buried in her throat, eyes watering—but she pushed deeper instead of pulling off.
I kept my face blank on camera. "N-nope, we're good!"
Sanding machine fired up—loud, grinding, right against the door.
Mia took it as a challenge.
She popped off just long enough to whisper, "Fuck the lecture. I need you inside me."
She spun around, hiked her tiny sleep shorts to the side, and backed onto my cock under the desk—reverse cowgirl, ass facing me, already dripping from the thrill. She sank down in one smooth glide, taking every inch while I tried to answer the professor's follow-up.
The bunk bed was child's play. This was insanity.
Every bounce made the desk chair creak. Her ass clapped softly against my thighs. The sanding drowned most of it—but not all. I could hear her wet little gasps every time she slammed down.
"Harder," she mouthed over her shoulder, riding like the world wasn't watching. "Fill me while you're supposed to be smart on camera."
I grabbed her hips under the desk and thrust up, meeting her. The chair rolled. Mic still unmuted—I had to mute again fast, biting my lip bloody while my stepsister fucked herself stupid inches from twenty classmates and my professor.
Sanding stopped for a second. One worker called out, "You hear that weird noise in there?"
Mia froze mid-bounce, my cock buried to the hilt, her pussy fluttering around me. We held our breath.
Machine started again.
She slammed down harder than ever, whispering, "Cum. Right now. Flood your stepsister while they're right outside the door."
I exploded. Thick ropes pumped deep inside her—hot, heavy, endless—while I stared at my laptop pretending to care about supply-chain theory. Mia came with me, thighs shaking, biting her own arm to stay silent as her pussy milked me dry.
When she finally slid off, a thick glob of fresh cum dripped onto the floor between her feet. She scooped it up, licked it clean, then stood like nothing happened.
"Nice presentation, little bro," she whispered, wiping her mouth. "Same time tomorrow?"
The crew was still sanding right outside.
Dad was gone for two more weeks.
And we were already pushing how loud we could get away with it in broad daylight.
End of ch 6.