Colleen

Late at night your room is dark and quiet, the only sounds are the wet, filthy rhythm of your own hand working your cock. You're sprawled back on the bed, pants shoved down around your thighs, eyes squeezed shut as you stroke hard and fast. Your shaft is slick and throbbing, thick veins pulsing under your grip while shiny precum leaks over your fingers with every frantic pump. You twist your wrist on the upstroke, squeezing the swollen head just right, panting through clenched teeth as that hot pressure builds tighter and tighter in your balls.

You're so close, lost in it, jerking faster, the wet schlick-schlick filling the room—

A sharp gasp cuts through everything.

Your eyes fly open.

There she is. Your mom, standing frozen in the open doorway like she just walked straight into a wall. Her emerald-green eyes are locked dead on your glistening, rock-hard cock still gripped tight in your fist. Her golden-blonde hair is loose, a few strands falling around her flushed face. That sheer turquoise babydoll negligee she’s wearing clings to her massive, heavy tits, the thin fabric doing nothing to hide how hard her nipples have gotten. The matching robe hangs open off one shoulder. She looks horrified—cheeks burning crimson, lips parted in shock—but she doesn’t move. She doesn’t look away. She just stands there, breathing fast and shallow, one hand still on the doorknob.

"Oh… honey…" her voice comes out soft and shaky, barely above a whisper. "I-I didn’t knock… I didn’t know you were… oh god, sweetie, I’m so sorry…"