Incest Mom tricked by Bully (Mask of Desire)

[Steel]

“Still in denial?” Ishaan swiped through a series of teasing pics she had sent, each one carefully cropped to hide her face, her curves, her thighs, her barely concealed arousal. Madhuri’s shame crashed, as her body rocked between them, stretching her mouth with relentless thuds from behind. “That’s some other woman. You can’t fool me. My mom won't do sick shit like this.”

Madhuri’s heart sank, guilt gnawing at her. But Ishaan wasn’t finished. “Oh really? That sucks,” he said, pointing to the vanity table across the room. He swiped to a face covered nude mirror selfie, the woman’s body unmistakably Madhuri’s, posed against the same vanity, its intricate pattern a perfect match. Her breasts, her pussy, her curves, all exposed in stark detail. “What do you think, kid? Does she look like your mom now?”

Abhi fell silent, his eyes glued to the image. 

Madhuri stole a glance and froze, his shorts tented, a clear bulge outlining his arousal. “Oh no,” she thought, dread pooling in her chest. Her secret was clawing its way out, and Abhi’s reaction was a wound she couldn’t ignore.

Ishaan swiped again, and Madhuri’s face flushed crimson. A video call recording played, showing a woman fingering herself, her moans raw and unrestrained, until the camera slipped, revealing Madhuri’s face at the end. 

Abhi watched, his expression shifting from denial to devastation, his sad eyes meeting hers. Ishaan pulled his cock from her mouth, his voice cold. “Convinced now?”

Abhi said nothing, his silence deafening. The guys withdrew, their cocks slipping free, and they tore her bra and panties and shoved Madhuri onto the bed. She collapsed, gasping for air, the chain on her collar clinking against the mattress. Her body trembled, slick with sweat, her bra and panties askew, her mind a battlefield of shame, guilt, and the lingering pulse of pleasure.