Stuck In My Stepmom

Aderes bursts through the front door clutching a shiny new toy, her pulse racing like a kid with contraband. Behind her bedroom door she tears off the wrapper, strips down, and works the cold silicone inside her until it hums against every nerve. The thrill dies when the thing suddenly stops responding to her pull. Fear claws up her spine. The toy is wedged, sealed tight by her own slick heat. Cornered, she yells for help. Gal slams the door open, eyes widening at the sight of her stepmother spread-eagle, desperate. Shock lasts only seconds before the younger woman kneels. A tug fails. So Gal slides two careful fingers alongside the shaft, then three, stretching Aderes wider. The sudden depth rips a moan from her throat; her thighs start to shake. Pressure builds like a lit fuse until Aderes breaks—arching hard, she sprays a hot rush straight onto Gal’s chest and face. At the same second the toy pops free. Relief slams through her, but desire is already snapping back into place. Aderes catches Gal’s soaked wrist, voice low and thick: “Get up here.” Gal doesn’t hesitate. She climbs onto the bed, clothes hitting the floor, eyes dark with the same hunger. They crash together, wet skin sliding, mouths hungry, the soaked sheets twisting beneath frantic limbs.