Work From Home: Part Two

Rebel Lynn sits on her bed paging through a magazine when her stepmother bursts in—Chanel Preston, pink dress hugging every curve. “We’ve got our first caller,” she says, voice low and charged. The line clicks live. Chanel’s gaze drops to the swell of her stepdaughter’s ass in those tight pants. “God, look at you,” she murmurs. Rebel answers, eyes drifting to her mother’s full breasts. “They look ready to spill out of that dress.” They lean in. Mouths brush, then open, wet and hungry. Tongues slide, hands follow, tracing ribs and hips until the caller hears the first soft moan. Rebel pushes the neckline aside and sucks on her stepmother’s heavy tits; Chanel’s breath stutters over the speaker. Fabric comes off fast. Chanel presses Rebel onto the mattress, parts her thighs, and buries her tongue in the slick heat waiting for her. Rebel watches her mother’s dark eyes hold her gaze from between her legs. “Don’t stop, Mommy—fuck, right there on my clit.” The caller’s breath hitches on the line while they flip, tangled, hips rolling. Sixty-nine becomes a steady rhythm—Rebel’s mouth working between Chanel’s thighs, Chanel’s fingers stroking deep inside her stepdaughter—until each girl trembles and comes hard against the other’s tongue. They barely catch their breath before Rebel climbs back up, straddling. Chanel’s hands settle on her waist, guiding her. Wet pussy grinds against wet pussy, slow then urgent. Every slick sound travels straight through the phone. Chanel tells the caller exactly what it looks like: her daughter’s hips circling, chasing more, needing her mother’s slick heat. Rebel moans at the words. She grinds harder, faster, and they come again—loud, open, shameless—while the caller shudders on the other end, listening to every wet slap and needy cry.