Sore About Her Test Score

Reagan's chopping onions when the door slams. Leana walks in, all smiles and sunshine, offering to slice peppers. The knife freezes mid-air. Reagan's eyes narrow. Leana never helps. Ever. She always dumps her backpack and disappears. Ten minutes of fake smiles later, Reagan drops her blade and corners her. "Cut the crap. You're buttering me up for something." Leana stares at the cutting board. "I failed my history test." Reagan's jaw tightens. She wipes her hands, grabs Leana by the wrist, and yanks her over the counter. The girl's shorts hit the tile. Her ass, round and pale, wobbles as the first slap lands with a sharp crack. Leana gasps. Reagan's palm prints bloom red across smooth skin. Each strike lands harder. The sound echoes between cabinets. Reagan watches the flesh jiggle, watches heat rise through the marks, and feels herself grow wet inside her jeans. Leana whimpers, wetter between the legs with every hit. Reagan yanks her own shirt open. Sweat beads between her breasts. She shoves two fingers between Leana's thighs and finds the girl slick, clenching, eager. The spanking stops. Reagan spins her around, lifts her onto the counter, and spreads her wide. Their mouths crash together, tongues messy, tasting salt and anger. Reagan drops to her knees, buries her face, tongue working deep, lips sucking at Leana's swollen clit until the girl's thighs shake against her ears. Leana comes hard, loud, knocking a bowl to the floor. They don't stop. Reagan drags her down, bends her over the table, fingers buried knuckle-deep, twisting, curling. She works another finger in, stretches her, then stands and grinds her bare mound against the small of Leana's back, rough denim scraping tender skin. Reagan jerks her jeans down, grabs a thick cucumber from the counter, slicks it with spit, and pushes it inside her stepdaughter, slow, deliberate, twisting the ridges. Leana moans into the wood. Reagan fucks her with it until juices coat the vegetable and drip to the table. She keeps going until the girl's legs give out. Only then does she pull it free, slap the reddened cheeks one last time, and press her own dripping cunt against them, sliding until the mess mixes with sweat. "Next test," Reagan growls into Leana's ear, "you pass."