Home For the Holidays

Man, I've got it made with this step-mom of mine. Walk in during the holidays and she’s turned my old room into a damn Christmas dreamland. Lights, tinsel, the works—she's even up on a stool putting the finishing touch on. Goes above and beyond every time. I should’ve known what was coming next. We used to have an arrangement back when I still lived here: she needed dick my old man couldn’t give her, so I stepped in and kept her satisfied. Thought maybe things had cooled off while I was gone, but the second she sees me she hops off that stool, pushes me onto the bed, and straddles me like she’s starving. Skirt’s already riding up her thighs. No small talk, no foreplay speeches—just hot breath on my neck and her grinding straight onto my cock through my jeans. She’s soaked right through her panties and she knows I can feel it. Her hands are already working my zipper like she’s been counting down the days. She’s older, sure, but still tight, still hungry, and right now she’s riding that need like it never left. She leans down, tits pressed against my chest, and whispers she’s been waiting for this the whole damn semester. Then she sinks down, takes every inch, and lets out this low, satisfied moan that says the arrangement is back on—full-time.