Try kick her balls

Girlfriend lunged forward without hesitation, aiming a vicious kick straight at her mother's crotch—only for Mommy Mearest to cross her legs with a smirk, catching Girlfriend's foot between her thighs. "Oh, *darling*," she purred, squeezing until the bones creaked. "Didn’t your father teach you? Don’t be so predictable." With a twist of her hips, she sent Girlfriend crashing onto the coffee table, splintering wood under her back.

The TV remote dug into Girlfriend’s spine as she gasped, but the pain barely registered over the humiliation. Above her, Mommy Mearest stretched lazily, her own monstrous cock bobbing against her stomach—still slick from earlier. "Adorable effort," she sighed, putting her hand on her hips. "But if you’re going to fight me, at least *think*. Or are you too busy imagining how *pathetic* you looked just now?"

Mommy Mearest's heel came down like a guillotine, the sharp point of her stiletto driving directly into the throbbing center of Girlfriend's swollen girlcock. The scream that ripped from Girlfriend's throat wasn't just pain—it was the sound of pride shattering, of dignity collapsing under the weight of her mother's smirk. "Aw, does it *hurt*, pumpkin?" Mommy cooed, grinding her foot in slow circles as Girlfriend writhed beneath her, fingers clawing at the ruined coffee table. "Funny how quickly *big threats* turn into *little whimpers*."

Girlfriend's vision swam with black spots as the excruciating pressure on her cock finally relented. The last thing she saw was Mommy Mearest's stiletto lifting away—glistening with her own pre-cum—before darkness swallowed her whole.