Mom's best friend

Maddie snuggled against Tyler’s shoulder while he played a video game on the couch. Earlier that day they’d argued, their sex derailed when she accused him of making it “too big a production.”

She had refused to let him tie her up, and aside from the quick orgasm his tongue coaxed out of her, she hadn’t seemed interested. When she wouldn’t reciprocate, Tyler gave up. The session – never really started – ended with him frustrated, hard, and brooding for the last half hour.

Finally Maddie had enough of his sulking. “Have fun with your TV,” she muttered, grabbing her purse and heading for the door. Tyler glanced at her as she bent down, her jet-black hair falling forward. She looked incredible in a tube top and tight shorts – the classic LA summer outfit. Hot, no doubt. But was she worth the headache?

He’d been drawn to domination long before puberty, and now – his last summer before college – he had grown into a handsome young man, irresistible to many girls. His good looks had opened doors, and plenty of those doors had led to beds. At least half the girls he’d been with welcomed bondage, humiliation, and the promise of an orgasm as a reward. Maddie might be the exception – the one who broke the rule.

Tyler paused his game and stared at the ceiling. He lived in an affluent neighborhood with his mom and stepfather, though the latter was rarely around. Was Hank in Japan this week, or Qatar? Tyler couldn’t even remember. Either way, he’d be gone again soon. His mom, Trish, was always around, usually surrounded by a swarm of friends – each hotter than the last – on their way to the gym or gossiping over the newest anti-aging cream not yet on the market.

Trish’s best friend was Amy, a dirty blonde California native who looked like she belonged in a beach TV series. At five seven, with full lips and a rock-hard body, she turned heads everywhere she went. In her mid thirties, she kept herself in shape, backed by a trust fund that ensured she’d never have to work unless she chose to. She carried herself with the easy grace of someone untouched by financial worry, though the lack of companionship showed in her eyes.

Now Tyler lounged in the living room, watching Amy and his mom chat in the kitchen. Wine and champagne bottles crowded the counter. It was barely past noon, but his summer vacation seemed to have granted them both a holiday too.

“Hey, Amy, do you have any good games on that iPad?” Tyler asked. He’d spotted the corner of the device peeking out of her purse and was already bored with the selection on his own.

His mom didn’t miss a beat. “You should take care of that girlfriend of yours instead of playing games. One day she’s just going to leave you.”

Amy smirked over her glass. “Maybe she should learn how to be appreciative and take care of her man.” She took another swig of the champagne cocktail she had mixed.

“What the – Amy!” Trish swatted at her with a napkin. “He doesn’t need to hear that. He’s cocky enough as it is.”

“Meh… She’s not the one. Can’t you tell?” Amy replied, nodding toward her friend’s son. Then she turned back to him.

“I think there’s a good puzzle game in here, hang on.” She unlocked the tablet, opened the game, and handed it to him before resuming her conversation and her drink.

Tyler launched the puzzle but lost interest almost immediately. Mechanically, he opened the browser. Several tabs were still active, the last one a news site. Curiosity got the better of him. He flicked through the others – and nearly lost his mind. She hadn’t closed the porn sites.

Fucking A.

“Be cool, be cool. Act like nothing’s happening,” he told himself.

Three pages were clearly video players. He didn’t dare press play, but the titles told the story: “Handcuffed and Leashed Amateur”, “Oral Services”, “Loving the Abuse”. His pulse quickened. He pulled out his phone under the table, snapped a few photos of the screen, and noted her username.

Across the room, Amy asked, “What do you think?”

“Meh…” he muttered, glancing up as she stood straighter, watching him.

He put the game back on and set the tablet casually on the couch before heading for the stairs. “Probably a girl’s game,” he smirked, baiting her for a reaction.

Trish rolled her eyes. “Macho! Just like his father, I swear. Where did I go wrong?” She smiled as she said it, proud as ever of her alpha boy.

Amy shot back instantly. “What, too complicated for a boy’s brain?”

Tyler gave her a grin. “Right. I’ll see you later. Stuff to do.” And he ran upstairs, heart pounding, to savor his discovery in private.

In his room, he pulled up the site. Her username – PrettyTiedUp. She hadn’t uploaded anything, but her “favorites” were public. The list was clear: humiliation, bondage, submission. Titles like “Forced to Suck”, “Cumslut at the Bar”, “Tied and Tried”.

Amy? Into that?

He’d jerked off to her too many times to count, just because she was gorgeous and always seemed to have a soft spot for him. Now, knowing she was into this? The fantasies wrote themselves.

Amy wasn’t just his mom’s best friend anymore. She was a woman – sexy, reckless, and maybe within reach. Not like Maddie. This was the real thing.

He lay in bed for five minutes, staring at his phone, picturing Amy in the thumbnails. His cock throbbed painfully in his shorts. He needed to move, to do something.

The sound of the patio door closing pulled him back.

He went downstairs. Trish was outside on the phone with Hank for one of their marathon daily calls. That left Amy alone in the kitchen, flushed and tipsy, swirling the last of her drink. Tyler poured himself half a flute of champagne from the counter.

“Easy, tiger,” Amy teased. She was past tipsy and squarely in giddy.

Tyler leaned against the island, opened his mouth like he was about to say something, then shut it again.

Amy tilted her head. “What?”

“What what?” he answered, a smile tugging at his lips.

“You’ve got something on your mind?” Amy asked.

Tyler looked down. “Nah… you’ll just make fun.”

Amy sensed it was serious. She straightened a little, voice softer.

“I won’t, Tyle. You know I wouldn’t.” She’d called him Tyle since he was a kid, the aunt he never had.

He lingered, waiting until his mom was well into her phone call outside. This mattered.

Both leaned against the kitchen island, side by side, looking out toward the chaise lounge where Trish had been sunning earlier.

“You swear you won’t make fun?” Tyler asked.

Amy lifted her pinky in the air. “Pinky-swear.”

“Or tell Mom? Or think I’m a pervert?”

Amy’s brow arched. Uh-oh. “Pinky-swear,” she repeated, hooking her finger to his.

“Maddie wants me to dominate her in bed.”

Amy blinked. “Okay…” She drew the word out, waiting for the problem.

“She keeps talking up her ex; apparently he was amazing at it and now I’m nervous I won’t measure up.”

Amy realized in a flash that Tyler wasn’t the kid she used to babysit with cartoons and popsicles. He was a young man, wrestling with problems she hadn’t expected to hear.

“Well, she’s a bitch for saying that,” Amy snorted, gulping more champagne than she meant to.

“I just don’t know if I’d be any good at it. Thinking about it isn’t the same as actually doing it,” he muttered, laying it on thick.

“Most of it’s instinct,” Amy said, comfortable in the role of advisor. “Trust your gut. Set boundaries. You’ll be fine.”

Her own words echoed back at her. She laughed softly to herself. “Boundaries would’ve been good for me a few times too.” Shut up, Amy, she scolded inwardly. She was buzzed.

She looked over at him. God, he really was handsome. That jaw, those eyes – he was going to be a heartbreaker. A stud. Half of West Hollywood wouldn’t be safe once he’d realize it.

“I just wish I’d practiced more… gotten comfortable with it, you know?” Tyler said.

“Well, what have you done before? Maybe you can build on that.”

He smirked. “Mostly jerk… uh, watched BDSM porn. Doesn’t exactly make me an expert.”

“Wow. TMI, Tyle. TMI.” Amy smirked, shaking her head.

He looked sheepish. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Amy sighed, guilty now. “Ah, Tyle… if I were ten years younger, I’d give you a practice round.” The words slipped out before she could stop them. Fuck. Shut up, Amy. She set her glass down, vowing to switch to water.

Jackpot. Tyler’s eyes lit up.

“That’s a great idea. That’d be awesome!”

“What?” she asked, flustered.

“Letting me practice! Oh my god, that’s brilliant.”

“Yeah, no. Not happening,” she said flatly.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m basically your aunt, that’s why.”

The tension spiked. Tyler grinned, slipping into a drawl. “Well, in them parts, we don’t frown on them kinda relationships.”

Amy laughed despite herself. “Some women really love this stuff, Tyle. If Maddie’s into you, she’ll guide you. You’ll be fine.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who has to be on top.”

“That’s true. I’ve never had to either.” Fuck, Amy. Stop talking.

“See? You’d be perfect for feedback!” Tyler pressed.

Amy was buzzed, and her thoughts wandered. It had been a long time since a man had taken charge with her, pushed her limits. Too long.

“Five minutes,” Tyler said suddenly.

“Five minutes what?”

“Let me try on you. Just five minutes. So I can figure out how to start and if I’m doing it right.”

“Not a chance. Your mother would be furious.”

“She’ll never know, I swear. Just tell me how I sound, if it works for you. It’d help so much to have a woman’s opinion.” He turned fully toward her, eyes locked.

Amy looked away. The kitchen suddenly felt smaller, warmer. What could he really do in five minutes? her mind bargained. Just helping him out.

But she couldn’t shake the flash of an image – herself bent over the island, his young hands firm on her hips, his gaze devouring her.

“This is silly, Tyler.”

“Please…”

The champagne wasn’t helping her reason it out. Five minutes wasn’t long. How much could he really do? And Trish was right outside, only a few feet away. Amy told herself she was making a big deal out of nothing. He’d give her a couple of cheesy lines, they’d laugh, and that would be the end of it.

But when she looked at him – earnest, insistent – her resolve cracked. In a moment of weakness she muttered, “Fine. Five minutes.”

“Pinky swear?” he asked, holding out his finger.

She hooked hers with his.

Tyler glanced at the clock on the wall, then moved behind her.

“Hands on the table,” he said.

Her eyebrows lifted. “We’re staying here?” She stared toward the glass door, half expecting Trish to reappear.

He didn’t answer.

“For the next five minutes, I’m in complete control. You will obey me in every way. Close your eyes, and forget that it’s me.”

His voice was lower, firmer – not quite Tyler’s. Amy straightened and, almost in spite of herself, closed her eyes. It felt safer if she thought of it as acting, slipping into a role.

“I’m going to find out just how obedient you can be.”

She smirked. “Good luck.”

Silence. Heavy. Her breathing grew shallow as she sensed him close behind her, felt the whisper of his breath on the back of her neck.

“I’ll let that little comment slide. But it’s the last time.”

“Oh, come on, Tyl-”

The sting shocked her before she could finish.

He just spanked me, her mind screamed.

His palm had cracked against her ass – harder than he probably meant to – but he carried it off like it was deliberate. He flicked a glance toward the patio. No reaction from his mom. Safe.

“As I said,” he continued, steady, “I’m in complete control. If you’re disrespectful, if you disobey, or if I feel like it, I’ll punish you.”

His heart hammered, but the words flowed like he’d practiced them a hundred times.

Amy’s cheek warmed, her mind flashing back to past lovers – the men who had played with her, tied her, fucked her until she came undone. For her, spanking was how it always began. God, she had missed that. Too long since someone had truly dominated her. The sting on her ass had flipped a switch she thought was buried. Tyler’s hands settled on her shoulders, kneading firmly, finding knots and pressing them loose. She let out a small, involuntary moan. The shift from sting to touch softened her, made it easier to accept his presence.

“I’m going to ask you personal questions – embarrassing ones. I expect the truth. If I think you’re lying, I’ll punish you. Clear?”

“Yes… yes…” she breathed.

“Sir,” he added. “For the next four minutes, call me Sir.” Her throat tightened. “Y-yes, Sir.” Louder the second time, so he couldn’t mistake it.

“When was the last time you had sex?” His tone was flat, deliberate.

She hesitated, biting her lip. “…Couple of months ago. I think.”

“A long time for you. Was it memorable?”

The words pinched, landing sharper than he probably intended – like he thought she should have been more of a slut about it.

“Not really,” she admitted. His hands kept working, pressing perfectly. “Mmm…” God, he was good.

He checked the clock. He had to move. Sliding his hands down her back, he gripped her hips, dug his thumbs along either side of her spine.

Amy arched instantly, a soft gasp escaping.

“When was the last time someone dominated you?” Tyler asked. Then, more pointedly: “The last time you were someone’s sub. I know you’ve done it before.” His tone was calm, implying denial wasn’t an option.

Calling him Sir worked like truth serum. Amy’s mouth opened before she could second-guess herself. “Two years,” she admitted quickly. “Sir.”

His hands stayed on her hips, motionless now. She relaxed a little, glancing at the clock in her head. Three minutes left. “Do you still fantasize about being collared?” he asked. “Being someone’s personal fuck toy?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Before the words fully left her mouth, he yanked her yoga pants to her knees.

She almost shrieked, bending instinctively to cover herself – until his voice cut sharp: “Don’t you dare.”

Amy froze. Her hands hovered, then lowered slowly. She stood there with her pants around her knees, stunned by how quickly she had obeyed.

Humiliation prickled through her. She’d just come from the gym, wasn’t freshly showered, and her pussy was unshaven. She felt exposed, self-conscious yet also exactly where part of her had longed to be. Controlled. Displayed. Ordered.

“Hands behind your back. Lean on the counter if you need balance.”

Her body obeyed before her mind could argue. She clasped her wrists together, chest pressing into the cool granite island. Tyler stepped back and admired her. Christ, she looked incredible: toned legs, tight ass, bent submissively. He snapped a couple of photos on his phone. Not for leverage, not to blackmail. Just to admire later.

He crouched to inspect her pussy. Trimmed, hairier than he expected, lips swollen and begging to be parted.

His hand slid between her cheeks, finger gliding along her cleft. She shuddered at the first touch, already bracing for it. Tyler could hardly believe this was happening. It felt too easy. Maybe it was the champagne, but her body was responding eagerly to every press of his fingers, her soft flesh yielding, lips swelling, wetness glistening.

“The only thing I’ve done is spank you once. Want to tell me why you’re so wet?” he asked.

“I… I don’t know…”

He pinched her clit between two fingers. Amy gasped, hips lurching back against him. His wrist was slick with her arousal in seconds. He pushed his thumb inside her while leaving three fingers pressing at her rosebud. Her pussy clenched around him like it had been waiting.

She moaned, long and needy. Being penetrated and being told what to do felt too good to resist.

“Mmm… this pussy feels nice,” he said.

Her body betrayed her, rocking back each time he drove his thumb deeper.

“Bitches in Beverly Hills don’t say thank you?” he snapped.

“Wh… pardon?”

“I said your pussy feels nice.”

“Oh. Th-thank you, Sir.”

His mix of command and casual cruelty was intoxicating. Older men had played her like this before, and he sounded frighteningly natural at it. She moaned again, one hand braced on her waist as if to steady herself.

“Are you always this bushy?” he prodded, just to needle her.

“No, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir,” she whispered, focusing only on the thumb working her pussy and the fingers pinching her clit. Apologizing felt natural in this headspace.

“Back to questions. Answer honestly. Did your Master make you swallow his cum?”

The word Master slammed into her. He hadn’t used it before. Her ex had.

“Yes, Sir,” she admitted, shame tinging her voice.

“Did you give him the ass?”

“I… I did, Sir.”

“Of course you did. Like a good little sub.” His pace quickened, her breathing turned ragged.

He shoved his thumb so deep she rose onto her toes, body trembling as if begging for more. Memories flooded – being bent over, mouths stuffed, suspended, used until she broke.

“Say it,” he ordered. “Say it feels good. That your pussy needs it.”

“Oh god, S-Sir… my pussy needs it. It feels so good.” She was gone, enslaved to the situation and her own arousal.

“You’re not allowed to come until I say so!”

“I’m sorry, Sir – I’m close, please…”

“Not my problem. You’ll be in a world of trouble if you come without permission.”

Panicked, she grabbed the ice cold champagne bottle and pressed it to her stomach, then down to her clit.

“I could’ve just slapped it for you,” he muttered, pulling out his thumb and smacking her pussy with the flat of his hand.

She squirmed. “That… that doesn’t always work, Sir.”

His pants felt painfully tight, his gut aching from arousal. Still, he forced himself to keep control. He rubbed her asshole, testing her. She didn’t flinch, letting him touch as he pleased.

“What was the most humiliating thing your Master made you do regularly?”

She wanted him back inside, thumb or cock, anything. But she answered, breath shuddering. “He… he made me come in public. So many times. Restaurants, movie theaters…”

“Good. What else?”

“If he came anywhere outside my holes, I had to scoop it up and lick it.”

‘My holes’ rang in his ears. She was in deep now.

“Were you shared with others?”

She laid her cheek on the granite, moaning as his fingers teased her open again.

“Did you have to fuck others?”

“Yes. Oh god, yes, Sir.”

“Men only?”

“No, Sir.”

His fingers circled her clit hard. “Good girl. I’m glad you’re enjoying this.”

“Oh, yes Sir. I am.”

Amy was moaning now, grinding shamelessly against his hand, unable to stop the wave of pleasure rising inside her.

“Tell me you want to be my slave,” Tyler ordered, his thumb pumping in and out, slurping noises filling the kitchen. “Tell me your holes are mine to use.”

She couldn’t think anymore. Too much pleasure, too many memories of collars and ropes, of men and women using her. God, she had missed this. She was already on the edge.

“Yes, yes, Sir! You can fuck my holes however you want.” The weight of the words hit her, but she no longer cared. Desire had drowned caution.

“And you’re now my permanent slave,” he pressed.

“Oh God, Sir – please, can I come? Please!”

“Say it!”

“I… I’m your permanent slave, Sir. Please, let me come!”

“Cover your mouth and come on my hand.”

Her fingers clamped over her lips as she thrust down against him, desperate for depth. Her whole body convulsed, shivers running through her as her eyes rolled back. The climax tore through her in waves, each stronger than the last. She bit her own hand to stifle the cries, trembling against the table as her knees buckled.

She nearly collapsed, but two strong hands caught her under the arms, pulling her upright. Tyler steadied her, one arm locked around her belly, the other still pressed to her soaked pussy. His chin rested on her shoulder.

Amy’s arm rose shakily, fingers threading through his hair – an unmistakable gesture of affection. They held there for almost a minute, her breathing slowly returning to normal.

Tyler reluctantly let her go, tugging her yoga pants back up just in time.

Trish walked in, muttering about her husband’s critics before stopping to tilt her head at Amy. “You okay, hon?”

“I think the bubbles are going to my head,” Amy said, waving her hand in mock dizziness.

Trish laughed. “That’s a first. Go lay down on the sofa. I’ve got an errand to run, but I’ll be back soon.”

“Oh, I’ll be fine…”

“Nonsense.” She turned on her son, finger raised. “Make sure she doesn’t drive. Understood?”

“Yes, Mom,” Tyler said with an exaggerated salute.

As the women chatted, Tyler slipped a hand into his pocket, trying to shift his aching erection. It was plastered against his thigh, obvious enough that he prayed his mom wouldn’t notice.

He returned with two glasses of water, handing one to Amy. She drained it in gulps.

“Thanks, Tyle. I’ll just lay here for a minute… You go on with your errand. I’ll be fine.”

Trish grinned. “Lightweight. Couple more seasons and we’ll put you out to pasture.”

Amy tossed a pillow; Trish ducked, laughing as she jiggled her keys. “Still some life in the old gal.” Then the door slammed behind her.

Silence.

Amy and Tyler stared at each other from a few feet away. He slid onto the sofa beside her, close enough to feel the heat of her body.

“That was close,” he said with a grin.

“Sure was,” she breathed.

Silence stretched again. Amy buried her face in her hands. “Oh God, Tyle – I can’t believe what just happened!”

He reached out, gently prying her fingers away until she met his gaze. His blue eyes locked on hers, steady, certain.

“I loved it,” he said simply. “And I know you did too.”

Amy looked at him as though seeing him for the first time – dark hair ruffled, sharp features, a new and startling authority about him.

Could she let this go further? Did she even have a choice anymore?

If she was honest, she wanted to return the favor.

Her body betrayed her as his hand pressed against her crotch, feeling her heat even through the yoga pants. Tyler, swollen with another aching hard-on, wasted no time. He unbuttoned his jeans in one swift motion, muttering that he’d burst if he kept them on. The head of his cock poked through his boxers as he slid closer on the couch.

Despite every warning in her head, their mouths met. Tongues tangled, hungry. Her hand found his cock, wrapping around it firmly. She smeared his pre-cum with her thumb, swirling it over the tip, while his fingers stroked her face tenderly. God, he was big – easily over seven inches. More than enough.

His caresses were confident, almost sensual. Not fumbling, not teenage. It drove her wild, juices stirring inside her again. She stroked him slowly, loving the way his shaft pulsed under her palm. For the first time all day, she wanted to please him.

“You’re so big,” she murmured. Then, with a wicked glance, added: “Sir.”

He groaned. “Are you going to keep your end of the bargain?”

“About being your slave?”

He nodded, lip caught between his teeth as her strokes quickened.

“If you’ll have me, Sir.”

Amy no longer saw Tyler the boy. She was submitting to Tyler the man.

She swung a leg over him, straddling his lap briefly, grinding once before slipping off the couch and sinking to her knees. “Sit up,” she whispered, tugging at his waistband. He obeyed, letting her peel his pants down completely. Her pussy still ached with arousal, but her mouth – God, her mouth craved him.

Her lips brushed the tip in a teasing kiss, her eyes flicking up to his. She smiled as she pressed her mouth to the slit, tasting him. Then she opened wider, sliding half his length in one slow, steady motion until her throat blocked him. She didn’t pull away. She let saliva pool around his shaft, her tongue snaking out to lick him even as he filled her mouth.

The sensation was unreal. Her warmth, the slick drool, the simultaneous lick and suck; it made his head spin. When she pulled back, it was slow and deliberate, a strand of spit connecting them.

Catching her breath, she whispered, “It’s okay to hold my head if you want to.”

She looked perfect like that – lips stretched around his cock, eyes glassy with tears of effort and lust.

His cock was flushed purple now, throbbing. Tyler couldn’t help but think of the videos he’d seen on her tablet about forced blowjobs, throat training. He wasn’t content to just sit back. He wanted to take control.

Rising slowly, his cock bobbing with each movement, he said softly, “Follow me. But don’t get up.”

She nodded and crawled on all fours after him, her breasts swaying beneath her. He watched her trail across the floor toward the kitchen island, wishing he’d let her go first just to savor the view.

At the island, he turned and gestured. “Sit. Back against it.” Amy obeyed instantly, sitting on the floor with her spine pressed to the cabinets. Mischief sparked in her eyes. She knew what was coming, and she loved it.

Tyler stripped off his pants completely. The risk of his mother returning barely crossed his mind – this was worth it.

He planted his forearms on the counter above her, legs braced wide, cock inches from her face. Amy tilted her chin up, lips parting as he pushed forward. Warmth engulfed him again.

At first, his hips moved in shallow thrusts, testing. She didn’t resist, didn’t reach for control. Instead she moaned around his length, loud and shameless, the sound vibrating along his shaft. Spit bubbled and dripped, the lewd noises only fueling him more. And then he realized – she wasn’t just accepting it. She was leaning forward, inviting him deeper.

Encouraged by her submission, Tyler pressed deeper, sliding more than half his cock into Amy’s mouth as wet, obscene sounds echoed in the kitchen. Her tongue worked his shaft skillfully, licking along the thick vein as he pushed until he bumped the back of her throat.

The pleasure was almost unbearable. Within seconds he thought he’d lose it, and he yanked back just in time. Amy, insatiable, suckled the tip hungrily, refusing to let him retreat completely. He staggered a step back, chest heaving.

“Give me a sec,” he panted, trying to cool himself before he blew too soon.

Amy sat back on her knees, lips glossy with spit, gazing up at him with a sultry smile. Slowly, she tugged the straps of her top down and let her breasts spill free. She cupped them, squeezing her nipples, eyes flicking between his cock and his face.

Tyler bent down, kissing her hard, tasting himself on her mouth as she moaned into him.

“Keep using my mouth,” she whispered against his lips. “I love it.”

His cock throbbed painfully, but the brief pause steadied him. He stood tall again, straddling her. She wrapped her arms around his legs and opened wide, engulfing him once more. This time she let him use her completely, offering no resistance as his hips thrust forward.

Each nudge against her throat echoed with wet, messy sounds. Still cautious, he held back until Amy tilted her head, adjusted her angle, and pulled on his thighs in invitation. She wanted him deeper.

His cock slid into her throat, her lips pressed against his base. She held him there until she coughed and tapped at his legs. Saliva streamed down her chin and onto her breasts as he pulled free.

“Oh my God,” he groaned, eyes wild. He forced himself back in, even deeper this time.

Amy dropped her hands to her sides in a show of total surrender. This was her element. She’d always loved giving head – loved proving herself, loved worshipping. She wanted to impress him, to prove she was still every bit the slave she had once been. He drove into her throat again, and now the angle was perfect. Her body accepted him. His stomach pressed against her nose as he bottomed out, holding her there while she moaned around him. He felt unstoppable, in charge like never before.

The true bliss came when he let her work the first half of his shaft, her tongue stroking the underside, spit pooling so much that it felt like he was sliding into her pussy instead of her throat.

He couldn’t last.

A violent shudder tore through him as hot cum blasted into her mouth. The first thick spurt hit her palate, but he slipped free mid-release, gripping himself and painting her face in heavy ropes. She closed her eyes, mouth open, letting him coat her cheeks and lips. Each splatter made her wetter.

Tyler collapsed forward, bracing his forehead against the cool stone countertop, breath ragged. The aftershock of pleasure blurred with the dizzying reality: his mother’s best friend was on her knees, dripping with his cum.

And then he felt it. A soft pull on his cock. Amy, still obedient, was gently suckling the tip, licking him clean. “Fuck,” he whispered. She didn’t stop.

Moments later he slid down beside her, still trembling. Amy looked flushed, eyes red from tears, lips swollen and perfect. Strings of cum trailed down her face. She was beautiful, ruined. Tyler scooped a streak of his seed from her cheek and held his finger to her lips. She sucked it down eagerly, eyes feverish. “You taste delicious… Sir,” she whispered.

“You’re welcome to it anytime,” he smirked.

They both laughed breathlessly. He stroked her thigh; she caressed his hand in return. Why did this feel so natural? Why did it click so easily?

“We’d better get ready,” Amy said at last, glancing at the clock. Trish could be back any moment.

Reluctantly, Tyler pulled his pants back on while Amy adjusted her clothes. But when he turned, expecting her to be on her feet, she was still kneeling, gazing up at him, and playing her role to the end.

He dropped to one knee, eye to eye, and kissed her deeply. Their tongues tangled, cum and saliva mixing until the salt of his seed faded into the sweetness of their kiss.

“Text me when you get home,” he murmured against her lips. “I’ll send you instructions on what to do next.” He was buzzing with power, high on dominance.

Amy nodded eagerly. She knew it too – her life had just changed. She was his now. His to command, his to use.

He gave her ass a playful squeeze as she stood. After one last kiss, she slipped out of the house, head spinning.

She was his. And she couldn’t wait for whatever came next.