My European Stepsis is a Nudist!?

Europeans sure march to their own drummer, sometimes the beat lands square in your living room. Jodie learns the tune the day Cherry arrives, fresh from the continent and proud of her birthday suit. She sprawls on the couch naked, zero warning, zero shame, while Jodie tries not to stare at every curve. He runs to his stepdad for backup. The old man shrugs: let her be, it’s her house too. Fine. When in Rome. Jodie strips down himself, cock swinging free, and parades past her like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Cherry barely blinks. Instead she asks if her cultured stepbrother can give her a deep-tissue rub right between her legs. Jodie rolls up his nonexistent sleeves. He works her inner thighs, spreading her shaved lips wide, thumbs sliding along the slick folds. When she murmurs for tongue, he drops between her thighs and laps at her wet little slit, fingers curling inside. Cherry flips the script, drops to her knees, and swallows him to the root, throat working in hungry gulps. She climbs on top, sinks down, and rides with slow, creamy strokes that leave her moaning. Jodie flips her over, pounds her from behind until her ginger hair shakes and she clenches hard around him. He pulls out at the last second and paints her face and tits in thick ropes. Cherry catches her breath, licks her lips, and asks if he can drive her to the store for groceries. Europeans, right?