Control Mom

Jon hits the button and watches Artemisia's eyes go dark with heat. One second she's scrolling on the couch, the next she's squeezing her thighs together, nipples poking hard through thin fabric. "Fuck, Jon," she breathes, voice already ragged, "what did you do?" He hits it again. She moans, crawls across the cushions, and yanks her top off. Perfect tits bounce free as she drops between his legs like she's done it a hundred times before. Her hands are shaking as she frees his cock, lips parting, hungry, begging. She wraps both hands around him, stroking slow and filthy, and when she takes him in her mouth the moan vibrates straight through his balls. He flips the switch higher. Her thighs tremble. She's dripping down her inner leg, sucking like she can't get enough, eyes glassy, every dirty wish pouring out of her without a single filter. Jon just leans back, thumb on the button, smirk locked in place while his stepmom worships him like the remote rewired her brain for his cock.