A Taste Of Her Own Medicine

Reagan Foxx slammed the phone down hard enough to make the coffee cups rattle. Someone was picking on her stepdaughter. That wasn’t gonna fly. She drove across town with one hand on the wheel and a cigarette between her teeth. When Lacey answered the knock, Reagan’s fingers locked around her throat and shoved her backward into her own living room. The door clicked shut. “Clothes. Off. Now.” Lacey peeled each layer away with shaking hands. Reagan held the phone high, flash snapping bright against bare skin, click after click catching tiny tits, smooth belly, the obvious flush spreading down her chest. Pictures for keeps. Reagan kicked her skirt to the carpet and dropped onto the couch. “On your knees. Tongue out.” Lacey crawled between spread thighs, and the first slow drag of the teen’s tongue drew a low growl from Reagan’s chest. She rocked her hips until her cunt smeared slick across the girl’s lips, until those nervous licks turned greedy. When her climax rolled through her, Reagan didn’t let up. She dragged Lacey onto the carpet, locked their legs together and ground clits in fast, angry circles. Wet, filthy sounds filled the room. Lacey came first, hips jerking, mouth open around a broken moan. Reagan reached for the bag she’d brought and pulled out a thick, veiny dildo glistening with lube. She shoved the bulbous head against Lacey’s tight asshole, pushed until it popped past the ring, then pistoned it deep. A minute later the slick toy disappeared between dripping folds, fucking the girl’s cunt until she was clawing at the rug. Reagan alternated holes, ramming the rubber cock back and forth until Lacey’s thighs trembled and she sobbed through another orgasm, cunt fluttering around the invasion, eyes glassy and fucked-out. Lacey gasped against the carpet, spent and shaking. She was sorry she’d bullied anyone. She also wasn’t sorry at all that she’d just come harder than she ever had, learning her lesson face-down in her own hallway.