Mom Keeps Touching Me

Emily strolls back in after two weeks gone, tan lines sharp as a razor, pussy well rested and begging for trouble. She hollers for dear old dad, hears steps, and freezes when Ryan steps out—new stepmom in a see-through tank, tits swinging heavy. Emily rolls her eyes so hard they nearly pop and bounces past her, zero interest. Later, Emily’s buried in textbooks when Ryan clomps downstairs dragging that damn massage table, making a racket on purpose. Emily waves her off until Ryan sweetens the deal: a five-minute favor, then she’ll personally help Emily’s grades soar. Deal. Emily strips bare and drops belly-down, ass up like she’s daring the whole room to stare. Ryan’s hands start on her shoulders, then slide lower, thumbs digging into cheeks, fingers slipping between the crack. Every stroke slides closer to wet heat. When Emily lifts her head and squints, Ryan just grins and tells her the class is erotic massage for credit. Emily bites her lip, already pulsing, and spreads wider so Ryan’s palm can grind against soaked lips. She shoots back a wicked grin when Ryan asks if it’s cool. Fuck yes it’s cool—and they’re about to turn the living room into their private after-school playground.