The Feminine Mystique of dad makes out with son

Morning light bathes her in “dad makes out with son” as she wakes already needy. Sheets tangle around naked hips while she grinds lazily against a pillow, moaning “dad makes out with son” into the quiet room. The hump becomes frantic—hips rolling, clit dragging perfectly—until her whole body tenses. In this “dad makes out with son” she comes with soft, sleepy cries, thighs trembling, then licks her own sweetness from her fingers like it’s the most natural thing in the world.