He doesn't but Estafania does

Estefania leaned against the couch, her breath catching as she watched Jasmine, her 'husband,' have a torrent of cum flood inside her womb courtesy of their son, John.

The sight sent a jolt through Estefania’s core, her fingers tightening on the wood as she absorbed every detail—the glistening sweat on John’s brow, the fierce devotion in Jasmine’s movements, the raw, almost primal connection between them.

A storm of emotions churned within her, jealousy weaving through her veins like a dark thread.

It wasn’t just that John, their son, was the one being ridden by Jasmine’s; it was the gnawing ache that it wasn’t her drawing those gasps from Jasmine, her own body igniting their 'husband’s' desire. The thought of John’s climax his hot white seed flowing into Jasmine instead of her sparked a possessive heat, mingling with a strange, forbidden curiosity that left her dizzy.

Estefania’s tongue grazed her plush lips, slow and deliberate, as her mind wandered into a vivid fantasy. She pictured herself straddling John, her curves swaying with each rhythmic thrust, her full, ginormous breasts rising and falling in a hypnotic dance.

As John and Jasmine lay exhausted, their breaths still uneven and their skin glistening with sweat, Estefania felt her resolve solidify. Her pulse quickened as she took deliberate steps forward, the rhythmic click of her heels on the hardwood floor echoing with unmistakable intent.

She halted at the edge of the bed, her eyes narrowing with an undeniable intensity. "I trust you enjoyed yourself, John," she murmured, her voice a soft, teasing melody that barely concealed the hunger behind her words. Her gaze smouldered, brimming with a determination that made her every movement deliberate. "Because now, my dear, it's my turn."

With a gently yet commanding motion, Estefania reached for Jasmine, her fingers curling gently but firmly around their 'husband’s' arm. She eased Jasmine off from John. her touch both tender and deliberate, revealing the impressive length and girth of their son’s still-throbbing erection, even as Jasmine’s clit was leaking his cum.

At the sight Estafania found that her breath hitched, her lips parting as she drank in the sight, a flush creeping up her neck. The sheer scale of it captivated her, stoking the fire that had been simmering within her since before along, her to claim what was hers.

Estefania stood poised above John, her silhouette framed in the dim, amber light that spilled across the room. Her eyes, dark and molten, fixed on the monstrous scale of her son’s erection, its throbbing heat radiating an almost magnetic pull.