Bring Your Daughter To Work Day

Brett’s rushing around like she’s about to get busted, shoving her feet into her shoes. She’s almost out the door when Georgia steps out and nails her: where the hell does she think she’s going? Bring Your Daughter to Work Day is a done deal, school project and all. Brett’s busted and she knows it. She tries a quick lie, drops it, then gives Georgia the once-over and snorts, “You wearing that to my shop?” Georgia just shrugs, says she can change but they’ll be late. Brett rolls her eyes and drags her out anyway. At the massage parlor, Georgia’s already poking at everything in sight. Brett snaps at her to sit in the corner and not move—first client’s walking in any second. Georgia plops down, but that smirk says trouble’s coming. Jasmine strolls in, and Brett flips the switch to friendly fast. Jasmine clocks Georgia right away and asks who she is. Brett’s smile cracks as she explains the school-shadow thing. Jasmine’s cool with it, throws Georgia a nod; Georgia grins and eye-fucks her up and down. Brett steers Jasmine to the table, shooting death glares over her shoulder. She offers a towel. Jasmine waves it off and strips right there. Georgia’s eyebrows shoot up. Brett frantically holds up another towel to block the view, cheeks burning. Jasmine stretches out naked, face-down, totally chill. Brett asks again about the towel; Jasmine laughs and gets comfy. Brett starts the massage, slow and deep, trying to act normal even though her daughter’s leaning forward in the chair like she’s watching live porn. Hands hover over Jasmine’s ass. Georgia pipes up, parroting Jasmine: “What’s the hold-up?” Brett stammers that she wasn’t sure about the “posterior” with Georgia watching. Jasmine says it’s fine. Brett keeps going. Georgia and Jasmine lock eyes; Georgia licks her lips slow and dirty, and Jasmine smiles like she’s already wet. Georgia sneaks closer. Brett catches her, gives her the stare of death, then gets distracted talking to Jasmine. Georgia whips out her phone, snaps a pic. Brett nearly chokes—privacy breach, completely unprofessional. Georgia just giggles, says it’s for her report. Jasmine shrugs: she doesn’t mind. Jasmine suggests Brett teach Georgia some hands-on technique. Brett’s jaw tightens; she knows exactly what these two are up to. Still, customer’s always right, so she guides Georgia’s hands across Jasmine’s back. Georgia turns it filthy fast—palms sliding low, fingers grazing curves. Brett hisses at her to behave; Jasmine moans “Right there” and tells Georgia to go lower. Georgia beams. When Georgia slips two fingers straight into Jasmine’s pussy, Brett loses it, apologizing nonstop. Jasmine just purrs that she wants Brett to join. Brett’s still waffling until Jasmine grabs her for a slow, deep kiss. Georgia moves in for her turn; Brett melts for a second before the step-daughter part hits her and she jerks back. A little more coaxing and she’s back in, tongue and all. They tangle up on the table—three mouths, six hands, every pussy getting licked and sucked. Georgia climbs on top and grinds her cunt against Brett’s until her step-mom shakes and comes hard, surprised at how good it feels to break her own rules.