Ahmed leaned against the cracked doorframe of his Cairo apartment, heart pounding as he peered through the narrow gap. His mother, Layla, stood in the dim light of her bedroom, her strong frame silhouetted against the window as she slipped off her robe. At twenty-five, he knew this spying was wrong, but the tension had built for weeks.
"Ahmed, I can feel your eyes on me," Layla called out without turning, her voice sharp and laced with amusement. "If you're going to watch, at least come in and explain yourself like a man."
He stepped inside, cheeks burning, but she faced him with a confident smirk, her body unashamed. "Spying on your own mother? How original. Tell me, what exactly were you hoping to see?"
"I... couldn't help it," Ahmed admitted, his voice thick. "You're always so in control, and I got horny thinking about you."
Layla laughed, stepping closer, her hand brushing his growing hardness. "Then prove it. Show me that hard cock you've been hiding." She dropped to her knees, taking him in her mouth for a slow, teasing blowjob, her tongue working expertly as he groaned.
Panting, she stood and pushed him onto the bed, straddling him with her wet pussy dripping onto his shaft. "You're not in charge here," she whispered, guiding him inside her. They moved together, sweating and grinding, her ass bouncing as she rode him hard. Ahmed came first, cum spilling deep, but she followed, clenching around him with a wicked grin.
As they lay tangled, Layla traced his chest. "This is just the beginning, my curious boy."
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