Blind Without My Contacts

Rachael Cavalli’s scrubbing her teeth when Tyler Cruise barges in with the same idea. He starts to back off but she shrugs and scoots over. Guy’s stiff as a board around her; she’s only worn the stepmom title a couple weeks and he still doesn’t know how to act. She pops out her contacts, admits she’s still figuring out the house layout, then jokes that without them she’s legally blind. They spit, rinse, go their separate ways. Tyler’s barely under the sheets when the door creaks. In she comes, hands out like a drunk on skates, patting chairs and walls until she bumps the mattress and climbs in. She spoons him from behind, tits squished to his spine, palm sliding straight down to cup his morning wood. She thinks she’s crawled into bed with her husband, zero clue she’s got her stepson’s cock in her grip. Tyler freezes, then rolls his hips into her hand. No way he’s blowing this up. Her fingers get bolder, fishing him out, jerking slow and lazy while her lips drag across his neck. He pushes back against her, bare ass meeting her bare thighs—she’s wearing nothing under that robe and the heat of her pussy presses right up against him. Tyler’s heart’s jack-hammering; every stroke drags a grunt out of him while she moans soft and sleepy, still convinced she’s holding her man. He twists, finds her mouth, kisses filthy and open. Tongues sliding, her hand never stops working his dick. She shifts, throws a thick thigh over his hip, and the fat head of his cock bumps slick folds. One push and he’s inside, both of them hissing. She rocks, milking him slow, tits mashed to his chest. Tyler keeps the lights off, lets her grind, lets her use him like she thinks he’s dad. Sweat’s already popping across his ribs, pussy gripping tight, every squelch louder than the last. She rides faster, nails digging into his shoulder blades, whispering “fuck, right there” in that throaty voice. Tyler meets every drop of her hips, cockhead punching deep, balls slapping her ass on the downstroke. He’s getting close, breath ragged, when her eyes finally flutter half-open in the dim glow leaking under the door. The instant she clocks the face beneath her she gasps, freezes, pussy still pulsing around him. Tyler’s smirk says it all: the jig’s up. But neither one pulls away.