Hottest phone sex Easter celebrations for your masturbations! I should’ve known better than to call him on Easter.
But I couldn’t help myself. The second I saw those pastel eggs and family-friendly bunnies on my neighbor’s lawn, I felt that sick little twitch between my thighs—the one that only lights up when I’m feeling especially wrong.
I was a bad mommy again. Really bad.
I called him, whispering like a whore in my lace robe, legs spread wide on the edge of my bed, fingers already slick from teasing myself at the thought of being punished for ruining such a pure holiday.
“You’re disgusting,” he growled the moment he picked up, voice low and sharp like a slap. “You’re just a cock-hungry mommy who can’t stop thinking about getting stuffed like an Easter basket.”
God help me, I moaned. Out loud.
Hottest phone sex ““How I Got Fucked Like a Filthy Easter MILF”
That’s when it started. He told me to bend over the edge of the bed, ass up, just like a bitch in heat. I did it. Of course I did it. That’s what bad mommies do when they’re desperate for correction.
He came over. No hello, no warm-up. Just a handful of my hair and his cock shoved straight into my mouth like I was nothing but a nasty little egg-stuffed slut begging for it.
“You think Easter’s about family?” he snarled, slapping my face with his cock so hard my cheeks burned. “You’re what’s wrong with the world, Mommy. All dolled up in your Sunday best, with that filthy, stretched pussy dripping down your thighs like holy water.”
I tried to speak—tried to beg—but his hand was already around my throat, squeezing just enough to remind me I wasn’t in charge here.
Not today.
Not ever.
He wrecked me on that bed. Bent me, tied me, slapped me, filled every inch of my hungry little mommy hole until I was dripping with spit, cum, and regret. And I fucking loved every second of it.
Because I’m Elizabeth, a nasty Phone sex milf.
And I’m the reason Easter will never be innocent again.