My mom had this way of looking at me that made my panties soak through. Tonight, on the couch, her fingers traced the denim over my thigh, slow and deliberate, until my pussy was a gushing river.

"Baby girl," she whispered, her breath hot on my ear, "you know what I want."

I nodded, my heart pounding. She slid my jeans down, her tongue licking my belly button before diving lower. Her fingers pushed my cunt lips apart, exposing my clit, which was as stiff as a little cock. "Mommy loves that wet slit," she cooed, then licked it from bottom to top. The slurp sound echoed through the room.

I arched my back as she wrapped her lips around my clit, sucking it like a cherry. "Ah fuck, momma, yes!" I gasped. Her fingers slipped inside me—first one, then two—knuckle-deep in my slick cunny, curling just right to hit my G-spot. My pussy grip was so tight, her fingers were like rockets in a furnace.

She lifted her head, slick lips grinning. "Now, my nasty little slut, get up and bend over the sofa." I obeyed, my ass in the air, pussy wide and dripping. She licked her fingers, then spread my cheeks, burying her face in my asshole too. "Hnnggh," she moaned against my skin, tongue swapping from my rear to my cunt.

Then she switched: I knew what she wanted. I turned, my mouth on her bush, diving into the forest of soft hair and sticky clit pearls. Her pussy smelled like honey and salt.