Mail-Order Mommy

Katya keeps giving Mckenzie the side-eye, wondering what her dad's hot new wife is really after. Yeah, Dad's rich, but he's also the cheapest asshole alive. He never set up a cent for his own kid, so Katya smells trouble. She hunts for dirt, digs through drawers, taps on phones. Every trail goes cold until she finds a bank form with Mckenzie's signature and a fresh account opened. Confrontation time. She storms in waving it around like a search warrant. Mckenzie laughs, then drops the bomb: the account's in Katya's name. She sweet-talked cheap Dad into setting up a trust after Katya griped about it. Oops. Katya's cheeks burn. "Look," Mckenzie says, hands on hips, "I married the guy because the chemistry’s solid and the sex is even better. Now that you've accused me of being a gold-digger, why don’t you quit acting like one?" Katya swallows her pride. "I was jealous, okay? You walk in here looking like that, and suddenly Dad's smiling like he won the lottery while I'm the one wondering why I never got any attention." She steps closer. "Let me make it up to you." Mckenzie smirks, eyes drifting down Katya's body. "We’re supposed to act like family. That could mean... bonding." Clothes hit the floor fast. They tumble onto the bed, tongues sliding, fingers digging into soft thighs. Mckenzie spreads Katya open and tastes her, slow and wet, until Katya bucks and moans, then flips the script and buries her face in Mckenzie’s pussy. They grind, gasp, lick, and ride each other’s mouths until both of them come shaking and slick. The beef is squashed; the heat is just starting.