Tricking His Nearsighted Stepmom

Lexi Luna, the nearsighted stepmom, stands there waiting. She squints at Max. "My friend should be here any minute, let him in on your way out, okay?" Max grabs his stuff and heads for the door. The bell rings. A delivery guy hands him a giant bouquet and a folded card, probably for Mom's boyfriend or whoever. Max shrugs, takes the stairs, and knocks. Lexi’s bedroom door swings open and she’s already talking, soft silk robe barely closed, hair all wild. She can't see the college kid in front of her, just the shadowy shape holding flowers. "Mmm, you got me flowers. Come here." She pulls him in by the shirt, lips brushing his neck like she’s done it a hundred times. Max freezes, voice cracking: "Uh, Mom?" But she presses against him. "Don’t tease me. I’ve been waiting." Her hand moves lower, stroking, squeezing through denim. Max gasps, glances at the flowers still crinkling in his grip. Every protest he tries melts when she drops the robe and pushes him onto the bed. "Touch me," she orders, all hot whisper. Max stares at the ceiling like the universe just folded. Lexi climbs on, guiding him in, riding hard, moaning, clutching his chest like he’s the lover who made her ache all week. She tells him again, louder, riding him like she owns him—"Fuck me, yes, just like that." His hips jerk up to meet her. Minutes slide by. The pleasure gets louder. She leans down, blinking, reaching for her glasses on the nightstand. The second she sees his face she yelps. "Max?!" He’s still buried to the hilt, face scarlet. "I—uh—" She stays straddled, clenched around him, breath shaky. A wicked little smile curls. Her hips give the smallest rock. "Well... we’re here already," she laughs softly, tightening again. "And you feel too damn good to stop."