Ready?

You don't even think of pulling away.

He does, though. Just when you feel his cock begin to pulse against your tongue, he pulls you off his cock with a savage yank, wraps a hand around his cock and gives the spit-and-cum-lathered shaft a quick stroke. You barely have an instant to catch your breath before the first spurt of his cum hits you on the forehead.

Your eyes shut reflexively and the next jet strikes your closed left eyelid. Still he pumps out more, groaning in ecstasy as he covers your face in his hot cum. More of the burning hot spurts land on your cheeks, your nose, your lips, your chin, every splat teasing a helpless moan from your lips.

Finally the deluge ends, and he deposits the last drops onto your willing lips. You lick them up automatically, shuddering in perverse pleasure as you swallow it down.

"Fuck, that was... Phew!" Derek exclaims, gasping for breath. "Uh, sorry I called you a bitch, you know I didn't mean it, right?"

You shake your head dreamily. Why would you mind that? "It's okay..."

He arches an eyebrow. "Really? Uh, okay. Do you—"

Ring, ring!

"Shit, that's mine," Derek declares, reaching into his back pocket. "Oh, damn, it's coach. Sorry, I gotta take this." Tap. "Yeah?"

You can hear a low-pitched voice at the other end of the line, but can't quite make out the words.

Derek's shoulders slump. "Yeah, I know, I just—"

The man—Derek's coach, apparently—raises his voice.

"I know."

He's shouting now.

Derek glances at you and frowns. "What, now? But my gi—"

More shouting.

"Come on, coach, I can't just lea—"

Even more shouting, and louder now too.

"Okay, okay, I'm coming."

He shoves the phone back into his pocket, and hastily begins to straighten his clothes, pulling an apologetic face. "Sorry, babe, I gotta run. If I'm not back there in 5 minutes I'll lose my spot on the team. Look, I'll make it up to you. Next time, okay? You were amazing!"

He surprises you by leaning in for a quick peck on the lips, then turns and rushes out of the room, down the stairs, and out of the house, slamming the front door shut behind him with a thunderous bang.

You're left on your knees, face covered in cum, and a tent in your skirt, a wet spot forming right at the tip.

You have no idea how he missed that, and right now, you just don't care. You flip up the skirt. Your cock is leaking pre-cum like a faucet, thick honey-like droplets of it dripping down your shaft. You hesitate only briefly before wrapping your hand around your raging hard-on.

"Oh, God..." You moan as you begin jerking yourself off in quick, impatient strokes, the squish, squish of your pre-cum echoing around the room. The smell of Derek's cum lingers, leaving you woozy with need. You've never longed for release as much as you do now. You can't help but think back to Derek standing over you, his huge cock in his hand, covering you in his fertile sperm... and that's all it takes.

"Ahhh!"

Your cock spasms so hard you almost lose your grip. You don't have the presence of mind to aim it somewhere harmless, and thick globs of your spunk land all over your thigh highs and your skirt.

"Oh, f-fuck... Yes!"

You moan shamelessly, simultaneously loving and hating how effeminate it makes you sound. More cum shoots out, covering more of your sister's clothing.

When your orgasm fades and the final drops of your load dribble down onto the wooden floorboards, you collapse backwards, panting and shuddering with the aftershocks of climax. Your eyes flutter to a close, leaning against Sabrina's bed.

Sabrina! Fuck! You shoot upright. What have I done!?

You wipe desperately at your soiled clothes—no, her soiled clothes!—but all that achieves is to make the stains bigger. There's no way you can put them back in the closet like this, she'd notice right away!

Shit, shit, shit!

You spend the next hour in a full-blown panic. You stand naked at the kitchen sink, scrubbing at the socks, skirt, and even the crop top, washing out the cum stains as best as you can. Then you throw them into the dryer while you get dressed. You leave it running for as long as you dare, alternating between looking at your parents' cuckoo clock and looking out the window for Sabrina or your parents to return home. When the clock strikes 5 PM you daren't wait any longer. You retrieve the still-damp clothes, fold them as nicely as you can, and put them back at the bottom of their stacks.

You take a deep breath. You've done all you can.

You retreat to your room. You can't bring yourself to face anyone just now, and pray to whatever God will listen that Sabrina's clothes will be dry before she next checks them.