Troubled Teen

Aubrey sprawls across the couch, legs kicked up, yapping into her phone. She finds the strap-on wedged between the cushions and howls. Her best friend laughs on the other end as she waves the toy around like a trophy, roasting her boss's name like it’s punch-line city. Phones crackle. They’re still giggling when the front door slams. Phoenix Marie walks in early, keys still swinging, face tight. The smile on Aubrey’s face dies. For a second the room goes sharp as broken glass. Phoenix takes one look at the harness dangling from the kid’s fingers. Her voice drops low, no yelling, just steel. "Drop the phone." Aubrey does. Phoenix snatches the strap-on, weighs it in her palm, eyes raking over every inch of the babysitter: tight crop top, low-rise shorts, that stupid little smirk trying to crawl back onto her face. Not tonight. She walks forward until Aubrey’s back hits the wall. The older woman crowds in, chest pressing, hips hard. Her fingers hook the waistband of Aubrey’s shorts and yank them down to her knees. No warning. No questions. Aubrey’s already wet, and Phoenix’s laugh is dark when she feels it. Phoenix buckles the harness on herself in three quick moves. The silicone cock hangs heavy between her thighs. She grabs Aubrey’s jaw, tilts it up, and growls right against her lips: "You want to talk shit? Let’s see if that mouth still works after I fuck every smart-ass thought out of that pretty head." A single thrust and she’s buried to the hilt. Aubrey gasps, fingers scrabbling at Phoenix’s shoulders. Phoenix sets a brutal pace, lifting one of the girl’s legs higher with each stroke, hitting the spot that makes Aubrey see white. The babysitter’s voice cracks on the first orgasm, breaks completely on the second. Phoenix keeps going, relentless, until the kid is shaking, slick running down her thighs, begging with every breath. Phoenix leans in, teeth grazing Aubrey’s earlobe: "Count them. You’re nowhere near done."