‌

I never expected the booking to lead me to him. My stepson. Standing in his hotel doorway in nothing but a trench coat and lingerie, I should have walked away. I tried. But he knew how desperately I needed the money. And when I sank to my knees telling myself I could detach — the taste of him ruined me completely. I lost myself on that cock, moaning like the woman I am, not the stepmother I was supposed to be. I nearly escaped. Coat half on, knickers soaked. Then he dragged that cockhead through my hairy folds and I snapped. Mounted him. Rode my own stepson with everything I couldn't say aloud. He wanted to cum on my face. On his stepmother's face. I laughed, genuinely shocked. I meant to refuse. Instead I begged for it. Milked him until he erupted across my cheeks, my lips, my chin. Marked. Owned. And I licked every drop I could reach. We never did complete the transaction. Some things you simply cannot charge for.