Rachel corrupts John further

The next day, Rachel had already soaked through her panties by the time she heard John knock on her door. She’d texted him early that morning, nothing but a time and a tongue emoji. He’d replied, eventually, with a thumbs up. Rachel smirked, that was all it took now that he was addicted to the taboo of her.

She wore nothing but a pair of peach panties. It wasn’t even for him, not really—she just liked the way it felt to be so naked around the house, the way the cool air stimulated her hard nipples, the constant slickness she felt between her thighs.

She opened the door, leaning forward and letting her breasts spill forward tantalizingly. John stood there in shock for a moment, his eyes wide with lust or shame or both. His eyes dropped straight to her chest and then flicked away, embarrassed. She loved that he still tried to pretend he had control.

“Come in,” Rachel said, stepping aside and making sure he brushed against her as he passed. He stiffened at the contact, he was probably still horny from their little encounter at the soccer field. Good. She wanted him horny enough to forsake his own morals.

He hovered in the entryway, unsure of himself. "Penny and Eve went shopping... I've, uh— got about an hour."

Rachel smiled, closed the door, locked it, and pressed John gently by the hip until he sat on her low, pillowy couch. She took his hand and placed on her breast, loving the way he blushed at the contact.

“I want to blow you,” Rachel said, voice matter-of-fact, as she got onto her knees in front of him. “But I want you to watch something while I do.” She grabbed her phone from the coffee table, unlocked it, and flicked her nails across the glass.

John’s face wrinkled with confusion, but Rachel was already on her knees, pulling at his belt, not looking up. She freed his cock, already half-hard, and stroked it lazily as she cued up the app. Instagram. She’d found Eve’s account the night before, an easy open profile stuffed with selfies, dance squad clips, and a hundred little glimpses into the world of a daughter who had no idea her father’s mistress was her newest follower.

Rachel started scrolling through her page. Eve at the beach, Eve with her friends at a sleepover, Eve puckering her lips with that same defiant, bratty pout she’d given Rachel at dinner. Rachel held the phone up, right at John’s eyeline, so he had **** but to look. She watched his face as she worked his cock with both hands, slow and soft, smearing his slick up and down the shaft.

“This is what you jerked off to last night, isn’t it? After the game?” Rachel murmured. “Don’t lie.” She flicked her tongue across the head of his cock, slow and lazy, then brought the phone closer, scrolling with her thumb through picture after picture of his daughter. Rachel wanted to see how much it took to break him.

John stared at the screen, steel-jawed, not moving his hands, not even breathing, just letting Rachel guide everything. She pumped his cock with a slow, rhythmic stroke, the lube of his own pre-cum slick and warm on her palm. Down, up, twist at the head, squeeze at the base, gentle but relentless. She was good at this. She knew it, and she wanted him to know it too.

“Look at her,” Rachel said, voice muffled by the head of his cock as she nuzzled it against her lower lip. “She’s so cute, isn’t she?” She licked the tip, swirling her tongue over the slit, then swallowed him halfway in a single, practiced gulp.

John exhaled, finally, a ragged, animal sound that made Rachel’s nipples tingle. "R-Rachel... We can't do this..."

The protests only fueled Rachel's determination. She dug her nails into his thighs and bobbed her head, letting his cock slide in and out of her mouth, faster now, wetter and more frantic. She didn’t let phone our of his sight, didn’t let him look away from the glossy, filtered photos of his not-so-innocent daughter. She could feel, more than hear, the guilt and horror mixed with the wanting.

She scrolled to the next set of posts. Eve in a bikini, Eve with her tongue out, Eve holding a melting popsicle to her lips. Rachel reached up, grabbed John’s wrist, and made him hold the phone himself. She could see how his hand trembled around the device, how he tried to angle it away from his own face, but still, he watched. Rachel sucked harder, driving him deeper until her nose pressed into the base of his cock, until her mascara started to streak. This was where Rachel felt most alive: cheeks bulging and throat stretched around a married man's cock.

She pulled off for air, gasping, then stroked his shaft with both hands. She spit on it, let it dribble down over her knuckles, and licked the mess up in one long, showy lap of her tongue. She took him into her mouth again, sucking with a lewd enthusiasm, moaning just enough to let him feel the vibration in his balls. She wanted to see how long he could last like this. She wanted him to remember her every time he so much as looked at his daughter.

"Mmmm," he moaned openly. "Eve..."

Rachel slid her mouth all the way down, let him feel the heat and pressure of her throat, then pulled back, tongue flicking. She never stopped squeezing the base, never letting the tension out of his cock. "That's right, John. It's time you admit it. You want to fuck sweet little Eve."

John’s breath came faster now, harsh and shallow, and Rachel knew he was close, so close he could barely keep his hands steady on the phone. She sucked him deep, hollowed her cheeks, and let her tongue swirl around the head, teasing the sensitive underside with little flicks. She popped off for just a second, ran her tongue up the whole length of his shaft, then took him back in her mouth and bobbed her head, faster and filthier, until his hips were bucking off the couch.

“Look at her,” she said again, voice muffled by the fullness of his cock. “Look at what you made. Look at how fucking perfect she is.” She stretched her lips around the head, then let it bump the soft tip up against her top lip, then pop it out so she could speak. “You want to cum for her, don’t you? Imagine her seeing you like this. Would you let her watch?” She gripped John’s cock at the root and stroked deliberately, flicking her gaze from the phone to his face and back.

She swiped to the next video: Eve, this time in her bedroom, a string of LED lights glowing pink behind her as she lip-synced to some viral song. Her mouth exaggerated the words, her tongue flashing in time to the music. The bratty confidence, the subtle lines of her developing figure, the pajama shorts barely covering her ass. Rachel felt herself throb with the knowledge of how fucking hard John was in her grasp, how much this was messing with his head. She kept the phone right in front of his face, leaving him no way out.

She reached up with her free hand and cupped his balls, rolling them in her palm. She hummed around his cock, letting the vibration drive him wild. She could feel the tension building, the way his thighs went rigid, the ****, trembling heat of him. She’d seen this a thousand times and it never got old: the moment a married man gave in to his basest, darkest desires.

“Cum for me,” she ordered. “Pretend it’s her. Pretend you’re painting her face with it.” She pressed her tongue hard against the underside of his cock and sucked, hard, pulling a wet, guttural noise from deep in his chest.

He came. He came in one hot, violent spurt, flooding her mouth, the taste bitter and salty. Rachel swallowed every drop, smiling around the shaft, bobbing for a few extra seconds just to wring out the last shudders. She felt his legs kick, the helpless way he jerked and convulsed, unable to control himself. She didn’t let up until he sagged back on the couch, a limp, ruined mess.

Rachel wiped her lips, tucked his deflated cock back in, and handed him the phone. The screen was still on Eve, her face frozen in a ridiculous duck-lipped selfie, oblivious to the perversion she'd just helped unleash.

John didn’t say a word. He just stared at the screen, breathing hard.

Rachel grinned, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and curled up beside him on the couch, arms wrapped around her own body as if savoring a particularly satisfying meal.

“You should steal a pair of her panties,” she murmured, nuzzling his neck. “I want you to jerk off using your daughter's panties. Isn't that what you deserve?”

John met his mistress' eyes almost fearfully, and in that moment, Rachel knew John would do whatever she told him.