Before You Marry My Mom...

Thea Summers paces the hotel room like she swallowed a live wire. Tonight her mom marries Peter Fitzwell, and the secret’s been gnawing on her like cheap underwear. She kissed the guy. She can’t stop replaying it. So she storms in, shuts the door, and blurts the rest: she thinks about him constantly and her pussy won’t quit dripping. Peter plays the saint for half a second—stepdad duty and all that—but then she flips her dress up and flashes that smooth, perfect slit. His conscience files for divorce. He drops to his knees, yanks her hips back, and buries his face between her cheeks, tongue working like rent’s due. Thea fishes out his cock, eyes going wide at the size, then she sucks and strokes like it owes her money. When she climbs on, she has to work that fat thing into her tight little shaved hole, but once she’s full she rides like she’s trying to break it. Peter pounds her through one orgasm, then another, stretching her deep, until she moans she’s not on anything. He groans, shoves in hard, and pumps a thick load straight into her. Cue instant regret and matching heart attacks.