Didn’t expect to walk in on this. Thick blonde stepmom lounging on the couch like she owns it, legs spread just enough to see the damp spot where she was fingering herself before you even knocked. The second you push open the door, her fingers freeze mid-air—then slip lower without breaking eye contact. No warning, no hesitation; one hand tugs at your belt while the other works faster now that someone’s finally watching. Cushions sink under her weight as she climbs over you like a cougar who hasn’t been fed in years.
