Breakfast In Bed

Karen Fisher sits tucked under the covers like nothing weird’s going on. In walks Jared Buchan, tray in hand, all smiles. He’s talking kids, schedules, the whole morning circus, while Karen’s thighs are trembling under the blankets. Jared’s oblivious. He suddenly remembers the toast he left on the counter, spins around and heads back out. The second the door clicks, Karen flips the sheet like it’s caught fire. Juan Loco, Karen’s stepson, has been sprawled between her legs the whole time, tongue buried in her pussy like he’s starving. She hisses at him to bail before Daddy gets back, but the little shit just grins up at her and dives right back in, nosing her clit like it’s a damn contact sport. Footsteps. Sheet down. Juan vanishes again. Jared comes in, chatting, not noticing Karen’s voice has dropped a half octave or the way her knuckles are white on the sheets. Every time Jared looks away, Juan’s tongue goes harder, flicking inside her, sucking on her lips, daring her not to moan. Karen grips the mattress, keeps smiling, answers questions, plays the good wife with a tongue in her cunt. Jared finally walks out. Door shut. Covers fly off again. Karen’s breathing like she just ran stairs. Juan looks smug as hell, face slick. Karen yanks him on top of her anyway. They’re finishing what they started, morning light be damned, both of them still buzzing from the near-miss.