Watch more of her content getting off to Jason girlfriend

You find yourself frozen, the cursor hovering over a video titled "sneaky link fit check ✨". The cold dread in your gut wars with a darker, more potent curiosity. You click it.

The video starts with her facing the mirror, the camera pointed at her reflection. She's wearing a tiny black thong and a matching strapless bra. She turns, giving a full view of her backside, the swell of her hips, the dimples just above her ass. She's talking to the camera, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. "Gotta be quiet... don't want my parents to hear." She winks, then pulls on a pair of tight, light-wash jeans that hug every curve. Over that, she slips on a simple white crop top, her midriff exposed. The final piece is a zip-up hoodie.

The entire process is a masterclass in implied intimacy. She's dressing for a secret rendezvous, and the unspoken destination is your son's bedroom, or the back of his truck, or some cheap motel room. Your breath hitches. This is wrong. So profoundly wrong. This is the girl Jason is probably having sex with right now, thinking about, dreaming about. This is forbidden territory.

But the fantasy in your head, the one about the only fans sluts, it doesn't care about family ties. It sees a perfect, willing body, a youthful, carnal energy, and it responds. You unbutton your jeans again, the motion robotic, detached. You watch another video of her dancing in the rain with friends, her clothes soaked, clinging to her skin. You watch a "storytime" where she talks about the craziest place she's ever hooked up. You watch, and you stroke, the images of Kendra blurring with the faceless women from the porn tabs you had open earlier.

The thought of Jason seeing this, of being with this, fuels a twisted, competitive fire in you. You're not getting off to your son's girlfriend. You're getting off to the idea of her, to the concept of this untouchable, perfect youth that your son gets to experience. You're reclaiming a piece of it, vicariously, through the glow of a screen in the dead of night. You picture her underneath you, her legs wrapped around your waist instead of his. The taboo sends a jolt through you, sharp and electric, pushing you closer to the edge.

Your breathing grows ragged. The only light is the glow of the monitor, casting your face in a pale, lurid blue. You cum hard with a terrible idea of winning Kendra from your son. Hell you got the money and the experience to beat him. But would that be fatherly.

https://www.patreon.com/JasonMaster