🚨 NEW EPISODE 🚨 GOOD BOY POV DROPPING TOMORROW

She catches me jerking off to her photos, and she loves it🌹

@scarlettvenomxxx

I’d been hard since morning and I couldn’t tell anyone why, because the reason was sleeping under the same roof: my dad’s wife, the woman whose pictures I kept opening on my phone until my stomach hurt with it. She lived down the hall and I still sat there like a thief, pants shoved to my thighs, fist working my cock while I stared at her mouth, her tits, the way she moved through our kitchen like she didn’t know I was rotting for her. I told myself I was only looking. Then I wasn’t. I was stroking in earnest, wet at the head, imagining I actually got to hit that, imagining her walking in and finding out exactly what I did when the house went quiet. The door opened and she was there. She saw everything—my fist, my flushed cock, her own face still glowing on the screen—and the first sound out of her was shock, sharp enough to freeze me mid-stroke. For a second she looked furious. Then the fury thinned. Something else moved through her, hungry and mean and almost pleased, and she crossed the room, wrapped her fingers around my slick shaft, and pulled me by it into the next room like I already belonged to her. She left me standing there throbbing, dripping onto myself, heart slamming so hard I could hear it. When she came back she was in that yellow lingerie, thin straps biting her shoulders, cups that barely held her, the fabric cutting into the heat of her hips and showing the dark between her thighs. My mouth went dry. She asked if I liked it and I said yes, and she looked almost grateful, like Dad had been starving her and I’d just confessed I was the one who’d been feeding on her in secret. She peeled the lingerie off slow, let it drop to the floor, and came to me naked, warm, smelling like skin and perfume. Her mouth found my cock hot and wet. She sucked sloppy on purpose, spit shining on her lips and running down the shaft, eyes locked on mine the whole time while she took me deeper and made a mess of it. She told me she’d wanted this for a long time. She told me she liked catching me jerking off to her. She said it like a compliment and a claim. Then she called it a treat and poured oil over my cock until it gleamed, thick and filthy, and put her feet on me—small, careful, filthy—toes sliding through the oil, rubbing the underside, catching every ridge, working the head between her soles while I moaned and tried not to come on her pretty painted nails. She watched my face and bit her tongue like she was tasting how close I was. When I was shaking she climbed on and sat down on me inch by inch, tight and wet, riding slow on purpose because she could feel how ready I was, using my cock like she meant to keep it. Then she bent forward, hair hanging, ass up, and started bouncing hard, wet slapping, her breath breaking as she came on me anyway, clenching, cheating and not stopping, telling me to go harder, Daddy, like the word made it worse and better at once. I was right there when she pulled off, took me in her fist, and jerked me while she stared into my eyes. I came immediately, thick, pulsing over her hand and wrist; she gathered it up like she’d earned it and tasted it, slow, then told me to get out, Dad was coming home. I yanked my clothes on and ran with her taste and her voice still in my head. I already knew I’d be back later.