Peeking through the half-open door shouldn’t have been this hot. But there she was—my Desi stepmom in floral pajamas bottoms pulled low—kneeling over my lap like she’d rehearsed it. First tongue swirls at the tip before taking me deep, choking just enough to make her eyes water. Then those full hands grip my thighs tight while her head bobs up and down with slow, deliberate strokes—no rush, just pure focus like I’m her favorite dessert. When she finally pulls off with a glistening pop and wipes spit-slick lips on my jeans? She locks eyes and licks them clean right in front of me.
