MomFucksMe – Perfect blowjob for the breakfast by wet stepmom with big tits Emmy Demure

Title: “The Naughty Morning Snack: A Sinful Encounter with Stepmother Emmy Demure”

Growing up, I always had a secret crush on my stepmother, Emmy Demure. With her flowing auburn hair, piercing green eyes, and a body to die for – it was hard not to fall for her charms. Her ample cleavage, often on display in low-cut blouses, had me drooling more times than I care to admit. Little did I know, my teenage fantasy was about to become a reality.

One Saturday morning, I woke up to the tantalizing aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon wafting through the air. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I stumbled into the kitchen, desperately needing my morning caffeine fix. There, standing at the stove in a silk robe that left little to the imagination, was Emmy. The thin fabric draped over her curves, hinting at what lay beneath. Her robe was tied loosely at the waist, threatening to fall open at any moment.

“Morning sleepyhead,” she purred, turning to face me with a mischievous glint in her eye. “I thought I’d whip up a little something special for breakfast.”

As she spoke, the robe slipped open slightly, revealing the creamy swell of her breasts. I had to grip the kitchen counter to keep from falling over. Emmy seemed to sense my sudden dizziness, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

“Why don’t you sit down and let me take care of everything?” she suggested, her voice a sultry purr.

Like a man hypnotized, I slumped into the chair, my eyes never leaving Emmy’s form. She sauntered over to the table, placing a hand on my shoulder as she leaned down. Her breasts swayed inches from my face, begging to be freed from their silken prison. I swallowed hard, trying to maintain some semblance of composure.

Emmy bent down further, her lips brushing against my ear as she whispered, “I know what you want, baby. And I’m going to give it to you.”

With that, she slid to her knees, disappearing beneath the table. A second later, I felt her slender fingers working at the waistband of my pajama pants. In one smooth motion, she tugged them down, along with my boxers, freeing my morning wood.

A soft moan of appreciation escaped Emmy’s lips as she took in the sight before her. “Mmmm, looks like someone is happy to see me.”

Before I could respond, her warm mouth enveloped the tip of my cock. A shockwave of pleasure shot through my body, making me gasp. Emmy set to work, her skilled tongue swirling around my sensitive flesh as she took more of me into her mouth.

I gripped the edges of the chair, my knuckles turning white, as she bobbed her head in a steady rhythm. The wet heat of her mouth was pure bliss, and I couldn’t help but thrust my hips, seeking more of that delicious friction.

Emmy seemed to relish my reactions, her eyes fluttering shut as she lost herself in the act. She took me deeper, her throat tightening around my shaft as she swallowed inch after inch. I could feel myself hitting the back of her throat, but still she took more, determined to make me lose control.

My stepmother’s dedication to the task at hand was impressive. She worked my cock with the enthusiasm of a woman who loved her job, her throat relaxing to accommodate every bit of my length. As she bobbed her head faster, I could feel myself nearing the edge.

“Fuck, Emmy,” I growled, tangling my fingers in her hair. “You’re going to make me come if you keep this up.”

She hummed in response, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure through my body. With one final deep swallow, she pushed me over the edge. I came with a loud groan, my hips jerking forward as I spilled my seed down her eager throat.

After milking every last drop from my spent cock, Emmy slowly released me from her mouth and stood up. She licked her lips, savoring the salty taste of my release.

“Now there’s a breakfast I can get behind,” she teased with a wink.

I slumped back in my seat, utterly spent and in awe of my stepmother’s talents. As she sauntered back over to the stove, casually running a finger under the hem of her robe, I couldn’t help but think one thing:

Breakfast would never be the same again.