Goes fist deep

Jeremy chuckled, cracking his knuckles theatrically. "Oh yeah?" His grin was predatory as he leaned over her, his shadow swallowing her trembling form. "Well in Kazakhstan, when a woman boasts like that, we call her bluff." He pressed his palm flat against her stomach, his fingers splayed wide. "Lesson three," he murmured, dragging his hand downward, his fingers brushing the soaked curls between her thighs. "A real man doesn't stop at fingers."

Mom's breath hitched when his fist nudged against her entrance, her thighs instinctively clamping around his wrist—not to push him away, but to anchor herself. "Wait, I—" she gasped, but Jeremy was already pressing forward, his thick knuckles stretching her obscenely wide. Her back arched off the bed, a strangled cry tearing from her throat as her body struggled to accommodate him. "F-fuck! S-sir, it's—hnn!—too much!" she whimpered, her nails raking uselessly at the sheets.

Jeremy didn't pause. He leaned over her, his breath hot against her ear as his fist sank deeper. "Nah, you said you could take it," he growled, twisting his wrist experimentally. Mom's entire body seized, her toes curling painfully as a garbled scream spilled from her lips. The sound was raw, animalistic—like nothing I'd ever heard from her before. Her hips jerked erratically, caught between the instinct to flee and the overwhelming need to grind against his forearm.

"Jeremy, stop!" I tried grabbing his arm again, but he threw me off with a snarl, his fist still buried wrist-deep inside Mom. Her thighs trembled violently, her calves slick with sweat as she clenched around him involuntarily. "See this?" Jeremy twisted his hand again, making Mom sob as her back arched off the bed, her bra straps snapping under the strain. "This is what happens when you run your mouth."

Mom gasped, her fingers clawing at the sheets, her voice breaking. "P-please! I—I can't—!" Her words dissolved into a choked scream when Jeremy twisted his fist, dragging her walls along with it. I knew I needed to do something (she couldn't take something so big), so I made what was perhaps the dumbest decision of my life.

"Hey dickhead! How about you use your penis instead?!" I yelled, instantly regretting it. Jeremy froze mid-thrust, his fist still buried inside Mom as her body quivered violently. The room smelled like sweat and sex—Mom's juices dripped down Jeremy's forearm onto the bedsheets, creating dark stains that spread like inkblots.

Jeremy slowly turned his head, his grin widening like a shark scenting blood. "Ohhh, Lachlan's got jokes," he purred, extracting his glistening fist with a wet squelch that made Mom whimper. He wiped his hand on her trembling stomach, leaving sticky streaks across her flushed skin. "You're right though—why use my hand when she's begging for the real thing?" His shorts tented obscenely, the outline of his erection pressing against the fabric. Mom's eyes locked onto it, her lips parting unconsciously.