Cherie DeVille & Liza Rowe

Poor Nate. His girl's been fucking someone else. Someone black. A week later he still sits on the couch, shoulders slumped, asking what he did wrong. Mommy's patience finally snaps. She waves Liza over. Her stepdaughter grins, phone already out, texting her usual fuck. 'Show him how it works,' Cherie says. Liza nods and spreads on the ottoman. Her thighs open, already wet. Minutes later the front door clicks. A thick-shouldered Black man walks in like he pays rent. Nate stares, jaw tight, as the guy drops his jeans. Liza licks her palm and strokes him, slick sounds filling the room. She turns onto her elbows, ass up, and he sinks in deep. She moans, eyes on Nate the whole time. His mother kneels beside him. 'She loves you,' Cherie murmurs, sliding her own hand between Nate's legs, 'and she'll keep loving you when this ends. Same as me with your father.' Flesh slaps flesh. Liza gasps as the man fucks harder, hips smacking her ass red. Nate breathes fast. He doesn't look away. When the guy pulls out and paints Liza's back, Cherie squeezes Nate's thigh. 'Flowers tonight,' she tells him. 'Say you're sorry. Then watch her text the next one.'