Cannot help herself

Julia stared at the photo on her phone, thumb frozen over the screen, unable to look away from the damning image: Riley on her knees, blindfolded, mouth stretched wide around the headmaster’s thick cock—the same cock that had claimed Julia’s throat... her dignity. Drool glistened on her daughter’s chin, cheeks hollowed with effort, the blindfold making her look **** and eager all at once. The caption burned underneath: More incoming in a bit, slut.

The post-orgasm haze she’d been drifting in shattered completely. Horror should have consumed her—pure, maternal terror at seeing her eighteen-year-old daughter used like this—but it didn’t. Instead, fresh heat surged between her legs, sharp and vicious, like a second wave crashing over the first. Her clit throbbed painfully; her pussy clenched around nothing, slick gushing anew down her thighs. She hated it. She hated herself. But she couldn’t stop.

Her hand moved again—almost against her will—fingers sliding back between her folds, finding her swollen clit and rubbing frantic circles. She zoomed in on the photo: Riley’s lips sealed tight, the bulge in her throat, the way her hands gripped the headmaster’s thighs like she was anchoring herself to take him deeper. Julia imagined it—the stretch of her own mouth around that girth, the salty taste, the way he’d fisted her hair and used her face. But now it was Riley’s turn. Riley’s blindfolded submission. Riley getting what Julia had craved for months.

A low, broken moan escaped her. She plunged three fingers inside herself this time—harder, deeper—curling them against that spot while her thumb ground against her clit. Her other hand shoved the sundress higher, pinching and twisting her nipple until it hurt in the best way.

She pictured it: Riley gagging, moaning around the cock, blind and helpless while the headmaster fucked her face, then flipped her over and took her raw—just like he’d promised Julia he would. The jealousy hit next—sharp, unexpected, twisting in her chest like a knife. She wanted it to be her. Wanted to be the one on her knees again, blindfolded, mouth full, cunt dripping, taking every inch while he whispered filthy praise. Wanted to feel that cock bare inside her, filling her, breeding her, claiming her the way he was claiming her daughter right now.

“Fuck… Riley…” The name slipped out—half sob, half prayer—as her hips bucked against her hand. The orgasm built fast, faster than before, coiling tight and brutal in her core. She came harder than she ever had—harder than with Tony, harder than with the headmaster, harder than with Ethan on her marital bed. It ripped through her like lightning, back arching off the mattress, thighs clamping around her wrist, a raw, keening cry tearing from her throat. Her pussy spasmed violently around her fingers, gushing slick that soaked the sheets beneath her, waves crashing so intensely her vision blurred and her toes curled.

She collapsed back, gasping, trembling, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes—not from sadness, but from the sheer overwhelming **** of it. Shame followed immediately, thick and ****, but even that couldn’t drown out the lingering aftershocks or the dark, possessive jealousy still simmering in her chest.

She almost wished it could be her instead.

Her phone buzzed again—another message from Master—but she couldn’t bring herself to look yet. Not while she was still shaking, still leaking, still aching for the very thing that was destroying her.