Practicing With Stepmom

Spencer Scott plants both palms on Elias Cash’s chest and backs him up until his shoulders hit the bedroom wall. “First problem we’re fixing is you freezing when you get anywhere near a girl,” she says with a smirk. She drops to her knees, pops open his belt, and yanks his cock out like she’s racing the clock. “Look how fast it’s standing up—way better than verbal sparring, huh?” She licks a wide stripe from root to tip, then swallows him in one greedy gulp, cheeks hollowing with loud, wet pulls. Every time the head bumps her throat, Elias lets out a startled gasp and his knees dip. She grabs his hips so he can’t retreat and sets a steady rhythm—sliding all the way down, gurgling when he fills her, then sliding back until strings of spit hang between her lips and his shiny shaft. Free hand working his balls like she’s judging produce, she pops off to bark, “Hands in my hair, college boy, we’re practicing confidence,” then dives back down, gagging louder when his fingers grab fistfuls of blonde waves. Tight suction, swirling tongue, wet choking sounds fill the room until spit drips from her chin onto the carpet. She pulls off, eyes watering, and strokes the slick length in a firm fist while catching her breath. “Stage two—fingers,” she announces, kicking her leggings to her ankles. One leg up on the bed, she steers his shaky hand to her shaved pussy. “Two fingers, circle my clit while you suck a tit—get it right this time.” Her hand rides over his knuckles, forcing his fingers inside to the second knuckle, clamping and riding so he feels every squeeze around them. She moans like she’s encouraging a clumsy golden retriever, hips rocking until her thighs quiver. Then she’s on all fours, ass toward him, glancing over one shoulder. “Missionary practice comes later. Doggy now—don’t you dare come before I say.” When he pushes in, his body pounds hers with an awed slap of skin; she rocks back to meet every thrust, egging him on, ordering, “deeper—harder—like you mean it,” and reaching under to grip her own slick clit. Sweat stings their eyes, breath grunts, mattress springs screech in time. She comes first, shuddering hard, pussy fluttering, cursing into the comforter. Only when her orgasm subsides does she toss a glance back, eyes half-lidded. “Your turn. Fill me up. Show me you can finish strong.” She squeezes him, milking him until he spurts inside with a long, gasping groan. Spencer slides off, lets his load leak down her thigh, and taps his flushed cheek. “Problems? Consider it half-solved.”