MOMMY THIGH FUCKS

The Redhead Milf's Voluptuous Thighs

The air in the master bedroom hung thick with the scent of sex and shame, a heady mixture that made Jessica's pulse race even as her mind screamed for her to stop. Michele's boxers pooled at his feet, the fabric barely making a sound as it hit the plush carpet. His cock stood proud and heavy between them, the flushed tip glistening with pre-cum that caught the dim lamplight like liquid pearl.

Jessica's breath stuttered in her chest, her fingers twisting in the silk sheets beneath her. The sight of him—her son—fully erect and trembling with need sent a bolt of forbidden heat straight to her core. Her thighs, still damp with her own arousal, pressed together instinctively, the friction sending a jolt of pleasure up her spine.

"Michele—" His name spilled from her lips, half protest, half plea.

"Please what?" Michele's voice was rough, darker than she'd ever heard it, his fingers spreading her thighs wider with a possessiveness that made her stomach flip. His thumbs dug into the soft flesh of her inner thighs, leaving faint pink marks that would fade by morning. "Tell me what you want, Mom."

The title—Mom—should have been a slap of reality. Instead, it sent a fresh wave of slickness between her legs. Jessica's lips trembled, her pride crumbling like sand through her fingers.

"Use me," she whispered, the words tasting like sin on her tongue.

Michele groaned, the sound vibrating through the redhead milf's sinful curves as he gripped his mom's wide hips and pulled her to the edge of the bed. His cock slid between her thighs with a filthy, wet sound, the heat of him branding her pale skin.

"F-Fuck," His low baritone rough with lustful desire, the young head falling back as he rocked forward, his length sliding through the slick heat of her folds. The tip of him caught against the slutty mother's clit with every thrust, sending sparks of pleasure dancing behind her eyelids. "You're so fucking soft."

Jessica's nails dug into his biceps, her body arching off the bed as he set a relentless pace. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the room, mingling with their ragged breaths.

"Oh God—" Jessica whimpered, her thighs clamping around him instinctively, squeezing him tighter, hotter.

Michele's breath hitched, his hips stuttering. "Y-You like that?" he panted, his voice dripping with dark amusement. "Your son's cock rubbing against your pussy?"

The vulgarity should have shocked her. Instead, it sent a fresh flood of arousal soaking her thighs.

"Yes—" The word was a broken moan, her hips rolling against him, chasing the friction.

Michele's fingers dug into her flesh, his thrusts growing erratic, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Gonna cum," he warned, his voice cracking.

Jessica's body arched, her cunt clenching around nothing as his release splashed across her stomach, hot and thick, his moans vibrating through her.

"Fuck, Mom—"

Pleasure crashed over her like a wave, her vision whiting out as her own orgasm ripped through her, her body shaking beneath his.

For a long moment, the only sound in the room was their labored breathing.

Then—

Jessica's fingers trembled as they traced the sticky mess on her stomach, her mind reeling, her body still humming with aftershocks.

What have I done?

But the ring purred, its voice a velvet whisper in her mind.

"Again."

And Jessica knew—

This was only the beginning.

Just-The-Tip, A Mother's Temptation

Michele's fingers trailed through the mess on her stomach, his touch feather-light, teasing.

"Still so wet," he murmured, his voice rough with satisfaction.

Jessica's breath hitched as his fingers dipped lower, tracing the swollen lips of her pussy.

"Michele—"

"Shhh," he soothed, his thumb circling her clit lazily. "Just testing the waters."

Jessica's flared hips jerked, the mature redhead's voluptuous body betraying her yet again.

Michele smirked, his cock already hardening against her thigh.

"You want more?"

Jessica's luscious red lips parted—to protest, to beg, she wasn't sure—but the words died as the tip of him pressed against her entrance.

"Just the tip," he whispered, her son's voice dripping with false innocence. "That's not really ****, is it?"

Jessica's manicured nails dug into the sheets, her body burning, her mind drowning.

The ring glowed, its power binding them together.

The Bianchi family would never be the same.