Don't Tell Your Mom

Daisy Lee’s barely out of high school and the house is empty, so the blonde slips off her crop top and lines up another thirsty mirror shot. Phone in hand, she angles it lower, snaps another—big grin, zero shame—until the bedroom door creaks open and her stepdad’s there, jaw dropped. She doesn’t bolt. She smirks, hops off the bed, sinks to her knees, and tugs his belt free like she’s unwrapping dessert. Her mouth’s warm and greedy; the same tongue she used for the camera now slathers the head of his cock, lips sliding until her nose presses his belly. He swears under his breath, reaches down, cups the back of her neck, and starts thrusting in slow, careful strokes. It doesn’t stay careful long. He pulls out, yanks her shorts down, lifts her onto the edge of the mattress. One thick hand spreads her thighs while his tongue dives straight in—licking broad and wet before dipping to flick her clit, then lower, dragging along her slit and pushing inside. Daisy grinds against his face, breathy giggles turning into moans. When he stands up, cock slick from her mouth, he pushes in deep; no ceremony, just one steady shove that fills her. She clutches his shirt, legs locking around his hips. He thrusts hard—palm flat on the wall above her head—grunting every time he bottoms out, the frame of the bed knocking the wall like a needy drumbeat. Daisy hooks a hand behind his neck, whispers, breath hot, “Knew you couldn’t say no,” and grins when he buries his face in her neck, pounding faster, neither of them stopping to laugh at how wrong this is—and how good it feels.