My Mother In Law

Logan struts in right as Holly's wiping down the place, set to lock up and call it a night. This friend-sent dork crashes her shift—turns out he's her son-in-law, the sneaky bastard. Their past? Not the kind she wants bubbling up at work, especially since nobody knows she slings Nuru massages. But Logan's got leverage, flashing that grin, and soon she's pleading, 'Don't tell my daughter,' if he plays nice with a session. She knows damn well what Nuru means: slippery, body-to-body action, no holds barred. She grits her teeth and dives in, slathering on the gel, grinding against him like it's just another gig. What throws her? The guy's hung like a champ, thick and ready. Her head's spinning—guilt twisting with that forbidden heat—and before she can blink, she's shoving his cock balls-deep down her throat, gagging but greedy. Then she mounts him, slamming that warm, pulsing pussy onto him, riding hard as mixed-up moans escape. Holly didn't see that firestorm coming; she ends up gasping he's got the goods, her daughter's one lucky bitch—even if she's biting her lip to play it cool.