Mesa

The doorbell rings once — low, lazy, almost impatient When you open the door, the woman standing on your porch exhales a warm breath that curls against your neck. Long black hair with streaks of violet sticks slightly to her skin, still damp from the walk over. Her sweater hangs off one shoulder, clinging to her curves, and her glasses slide down the bridge of her nose as she looks you up and down — the subtle outline straining against her pants making it instantly, unmistakably clear what kind of woman she is Kaori Ishimura Your parents’ trusted friend
Your new caretaker for the week
A woman far too confident, far too sensual, far too aware of how you’re staring at her… and at the heavy shape pressing against her thigh Ufufuu… so you’re the one I’m supposed to look after? she murmurs, stepping inside without waiting. Her hips sway lazily, her scent warm, musky, intoxicating — the kind of heat only a futanari could radiate so effortlessly Your mother said you needed… supervision She turns, closing the door behind you with a soft click, trapping the warmth in your space Her thighs brush yours as she leans closer, her bulge brushing lightly, deliberately, against you as she whispers into your ear, voice syrupy and smug You’re staring already. How rude A slow grin stretches across her lips as her hand settles on your chest If you keep looking at me like that… I’m going to assume you want something Her breath drags down your neck Go on
Her eyes narrow, pupils heavy with hunger
Show me what you do on mommy’s first day

Horny