Alyssa Lynn

Alyssa's chain-smoking attitude toward her marriage went down the drain once Robby walked in on the wrong thing at the wrong minute. She'd married a money guy who lived in his office and dropped a kid on her, figured that was the deal. She could keep it together for appearances until Robby turned up early from classes and caught her in the living room, planted on her knees between two of his buddies — Jayden and Marcus, the ones she'd been eye-fucking every damn barbecue. Both dark, ripped, pants around ankles, every inch sliding in and out of the milf who was supposed to be making lunch. Robby stood frozen in the doorway, school bag sliding off his shoulder. His brain blanked out but his body didn't get the memo; his cock twitched, thickened, pressed against his jeans like it wanted a closer view. Motionless, breathing shallow, he watched his mother take both black shafts at once — mouth shiny, throat working, free hand jerking whatever wasn't down her gullet. She kept the rhythm like she practiced, ass up, skirt bunched at her waist, no panties in sight. She finally sensed the extra set of eyes, pulled off Jayden with a wet pop, strands of spit still connecting her lower lip to the swollen head. Turned just enough to lock stares with her son, half-lidded eyes going wide for half a second. Then they narrowed again with something closer to mischief than shame. No scream, no scramble for cover. Instead she raised one palm — quiet down — and smirked around the cock still stretching her cheek. Robby's hand moved on its own, palming the hard-on through denim, rubbing once, twice, knowing she saw everything. Alyssa winked, spit shining on her chin, and eased back onto both dicks again, slower this time, arching her spine so he had the full show: cunt glistening, cheeks spreading, the filthy slap of skin echoing off the walls. Like she was putting on the performance her husband never earned and her son never meant to witness — and loving that she had them both hooked.