Managing My Daughter

Alexa Grace slips through the front door at dawn, pussy still aching from the night’s pounding. She barely clears the hallway before Alexis Fawx’s voice slices from the bedroom: “Get up here. Now.” Alexa freezes. She knows that tone. The moment she enters the room Alexis pins her with a stare that sees straight through every lie. "You think I don't smell the come on you, princess? Out spreading your legs for every cock in town—then you come home wet and reckless. Fine. We’re fixing it my way." She yanks Alexa’s clothes off, leaving the girl naked and blinking. Alexis unbuttons her own shirt, steps in, and cradles one full breast against Alexa’s lips. "Suck.” Alexa closes around the hard nipple and starts to nurse. Heat spreads low. Alexis kisses downward, tongue gliding over ribs and belly, then laps once—slow, deliberate—at Alexa’s smooth, bare slit. A moan escapes; Alexis stuffs her own lace panties between her daughter’s lips to muffle it. She spreads Alexa open, climbs on top, and grinds her soaking pussy flush against Alexa’s. Their clits rub, wet on wet, slick pressure building in steady rolls. Pulse after pulse, Alexa matches her mother’s rhythm until her legs shake. Alexis shifts, lifts Alexa’s chin, and sinks onto the girl’s mouth. “Eat.” Alexa licks her mother’s swollen cunt, finds the rhythm, adds two fingers, and pumps until Alexis tightens around them and comes with a low, broken sound. They trade again and again—Alexis riding Alexa’s face, Alexa scissoring until both climax so hard the sheets go damp. When they finally collapse, Alexa’s breathing is shaky and grateful. “Thank you, Mom,” she whispers, panties still bunched in her mouth, tasting of their shared heat.