Liend's eyes stayed locked on Kiana—her tongue still nestled between his gum and upper lip, gently bulging it outward as she licked him with slow, unrestrained care.
He lay beneath her, chest rising in uneven heaves, unsure of what to do—unsure if he could even move.
His breath came ragged and shallow, barely able to keep up with the haze flooding his senses.
Below, the pressure had grown unbearable.
His bulge—packed too tightly beneath the fabric of his pants—pressed hard against Kiana's bare hips. And she felt every inch of it.
She gave a subtle roll of her hips, grinding slowly against the rigid outline beneath her, letting the friction build between them.
With her lips sealed around his, she sucked—alternating between his outer lip and the sensitive inner flesh—taking both without hesitation, without restraint.
------
Liend lay beneath her—motionless, breath shallow, heart pounding hard against his ribs.
His mind was a storm.
Should he push back?Should he press his hips upward—match the rhythm his mom had already set—thrust into the pressure, feel her completely?Should he give in?
The thought twisted through him: to grind his bulge harder against her, to let her wring him out—right here, right now—until nothing was left.
To let himself be taken.
By his step-mom.
A woman so experienced… so intoxicating…So unapologetically full—fleshy—her curves deliberate, powerful, overwhelming.
A woman who could make someone climax with nothing more than the slow play of her fingers over her own flesh.
Just watching her—just feeling her—was almost too much.
And here she was, on top of him.Pressing. Grinding. Dominating.
All that remained was the question pulsing in his head:
Do I let her? Or do I fight it?
And every second that passed made the answer harder to hold onto.
---
Liend couldn't decide whether to surrender completely—throw in the towel and give himself to Mommy—or fight it.
Fight the haze.Fight the pressure.Fight the unrelenting heat that was building inside him with every second she stayed on top.
His Step-mother's grinding was merciless. Her plush hips rolled over his cock with practiced ease, each motion more devastating than the last.
Every slow grind.Every push of her hips.Every subtle nudge.
Wrung something out of him.
The pressure was unbearable. His shaft throbbed beneath the tight fabric, veins bulging visibly through the pants as the wet spot spread wider.
Liend tried clenching his jaw, trying to hold it back.Trying to resist.Trying to delay what felt inevitable.
But Kiana? She could feel it.
She felt the twitch.The tension.The way his body stiffened beneath her.
A faint smile tugged at Kiana's lips—a small satisfaction blooming across her face.
She slowly pulled back, exhaling softly, savoring the lingering taste of Liend still on her tongue. Her breath was warm, controlled—even as the haze surrounded them.
Despite the heat, the tension, and the urge rising in her body, she held steady. The poise of a woman nearing her forties—seasoned, experienced, fully aware of the power she carried.
Not just over her own body… but over his too.
Kiana was still leading.
Still in control.
She hissed gently through her teeth as she leaned back, a thin thread of saliva stretching between her lips and her son—Liend's mouth—shimmering in the low light.
Her finger rose.
Graceful, intentional.
She guided the long, glistening string to it—catching the trail mid-air, drawing it slowly until it stuck to the pad of her fingertip. The strand stretched—connecting her to him—settling onto her smothering touch.
"You really are still a child at this," Kiana sighed—soft, amused, and low.
Her voice held no mockery—just the quiet certainty of a woman who knew exactly what she was doing.
She raised the finger still slick with her own saliva, the strand stretching delicately between her and Liend, then trailing down as she guided it toward his lips.
A satisfied glint shimmered in her eyes—dangerous, possessive—as she leaned in.
Liend's mouth was slightly agape, his eyes dazed and unfocused, locked helplessly onto her face. He didn't resist.
Kiana smiled.
The glint turned feral.
Without hesitation, she slipped the wet finger past his parted lips—slow, firm—pressing it gently into his mouth.
Then came her other hand.
She cradled his cheek, thumb smearing against the edge of his lips as she slid a second finger in beside the first, both coated in her spit.
Her touch was smothering. Her gaze—unblinking.
"Don't worry," she whispered, voice laced with possessive heat.
Her eyes bore into his with a hunger that went beyond lust—something obsessive… territorial.
She wasn't going to let go.
"Mommy will take care of that too…" Kiana murmured, her voice a hum against the heavy air.
She rolled her hips slowly, deliberately over the bulge in his pants—dragging her warmth across him with languid pressure. Each grind pushed and pressed deeper, denying him even a second of relief. The tension only grew.
She leaned in again, lips brushing his ear as she whispered, breath hot:
"Just lick Mommy for now."
Her one hand slid up his chest—fingertips grazing over his skin, firm and unrelenting—building pressure, making sure he felt every inch of her weight and intent.
"Mommy…" she said again, softer now—almost reverent.
Then she flicked her finger inside his mouth, slow and teasing, like a promise.
"…will take care of everything."
Her hand slowly slid back—behind her hips—until it reached the source of her desire.
With possessive intent, she rested her palm over the sag in his pants. Through the fabric, her touch was slow, gentle… deliberate. She pressed lightly, cradling it like something precious—handling it not just as a weighty warmth, but as a gift.
A package wrapped just for her. Her step-son's sag. Her—her family's future.
The weight in her palm carried the seeds of something far more intimate than mere lust. Something contained, protected—a way to expand their family, untouched by the outside world.Pure.
"…Everything."
The word slipped from her lips in a warm, murmured breath—soft and thick with heat, condensation curling in the air as she exhaled against him.
Her smile followed. Slow. Content.
She was enjoying every second—each grind of her hips against him, each small twitch of his body beneath hers. The heat between them grew heavier, clinging to their skin.
One hand remained in his mouth, fingers still being sucked lazily. The other stayed pressed against the heavy swell between his legs—resting on the very weight she was about to relieve.
And she loved it.