Your Boss

A few days later your phone lights up with a new number. The contact is simply “Mrs. Steel – Boss.”

Mrs. Steel: Your mother insisted I send this.

A video is attached. You open it.

The screen starts close on Mrs. Steel’s face—your boss—eyes half-lidded, lips parted, a low, controlled moan slipping out of her. She’s reclined on a wide office couch, skirt hiked up around her waist, blouse open, one hand tangled in dark braided hair. Your mom is on her knees between Mrs. Steel’s spread thighs, face buried in her cunt, eating her with slow, deliberate hunger. Wet, rhythmic sounds fill the audio as your mom’s tongue works in long strokes, then flicks hard over her clit.

Mrs. Steel’s hips roll up to meet every lick. She keeps her voice mostly steady, but it breaks every few seconds.

“Deeper… yes, just like that. Your tongue is filthy.”

The camera—held by someone off to the side—pans down. You see your mom’s familiar tattoos, the gold chain swinging against her bare chest as she works. She pulls back just long enough to look up at Mrs. Steel, lips shiny, then dives back in, sucking her clit while two fingers slide inside and curl.

Mrs. Steel’s thighs clamp around your mom’s head as she comes, a sharp, restrained cry escaping her. Your mom keeps licking her through it until Mrs. Steel gently pushes her away and switches their positions.

Now your mom is on her back on the couch, legs spread wide. Mrs. Steel kneels between them, leans down, and starts eating your mom’s cunt with the same focused intensity. She spreads her open with both thumbs, tongue flat and slow at first, then faster, messier. Your mom’s moans are louder, less controlled.

“Fuck… Mrs. Steel… your mouth feels so good on Mommy’s pussy—”

The camera jolts slightly. Mrs. Steel lifts her head, eyes flashing toward whoever is holding it.

“Harry Steel!” she snaps, voice sharp and commanding even while her chin is glistening. “Stop stroking yourself and concentrate on the damn camera. You’re supposed to be filming, not jacking off like a teenager. Hold it steady.”

There’s a muttered apology from off-screen. The frame steadies again.

Mrs. Steel goes back down on your mom without missing a beat, licking deeper, sucking her clit, two fingers pumping in and out. Your mom’s hands fist in Mrs. Steel’s hair, hips lifting off the couch.

They shift into a full 69. Mrs. Steel swings a leg over so she’s straddling your mom’s face, lowering her cunt onto her mouth while she leans forward and resumes eating your mom. The wet sounds double. Your mom’s tongue works greedily upward; Mrs. Steel’s tongue works just as greedily downward. They rock against each other, moans muffled and continuous. Your mom’s hands grip Mrs. Steel’s ass, pulling her down harder. Mrs. Steel’s fingers dig into your mom’s thighs, spreading her wider so she can tongue-fuck her deeper.

They stay locked like that for a long time—licking, sucking, grinding—until both of them are shaking. Your mom comes first, thighs trembling around Mrs. Steel’s head, a long muffled cry vibrating into her boss’s cunt. Mrs. Steel follows seconds later, grinding down hard onto your mom’s face as she rides out her orgasm.

They separate only long enough to catch their breath, then Mrs. Steel moves them into a scissor. She hooks one of your mom’s legs over her own, presses their cunts together, and starts grinding in slow, firm circles. The wet slide of pussy on pussy is filthy and loud. Your mom’s head tips back, gold chain glinting, mouth open.

“Harder… rub that clit right against mine—”

Mrs. Steel does. She grips your mom’s hip and rolls her own hips in tighter, more deliberate strokes. Their wetness mixes; the friction makes both of them moan louder. The camera stays locked on the place where they’re pressed together—slick, pink, moving in perfect rhythm. Your mom’s tattoos flex with every grind. Mrs. Steel’s voice stays commanding even as it turns breathy:

“Look at you. Taking it so well. Your mother is an absolute slut for this.”

They grind faster. Your mom’s hand finds Mrs. Steel’s breast, squeezing; Mrs. Steel’s free hand reaches down to rub both their clits at once. The dual stimulation pushes them over the edge together—bodies locking, hips jerking, a shared broken cry as they come against each other, cunts pulsing and soaking the couch beneath them.

The video ends on a lingering close-up of their still-pressed, glistening pussies and the slow drip of their mixed wetness.

A final text arrives immediately after:

Mrs. Steel: She asked me to make sure you received this. She was quite insistent. Harry has been instructed to keep the camera ready if she requests another session.

Your phone stays warm in your hand. The last frame is burned in—your boss’s face between your mom’s thighs, the two of them locked together in that filthy scissor, and the clear message behind every second of the recording:

Your mom wanted you to see exactly how she spends her time with Mrs. Steel.