Asher spat thickly onto his palm, his breath ragged as he leaned into the thick underbrush. His cock stood hard and veined, the cool air of the riverbank teasing his sensitive skin. With a slow, practiced motion, he smeared his spit along the length of his shaft, dragging his fingers up and down, tracing the underside to the twitching base. His grip on his cock tightened as he began to build a rough and eager rhythm when—
"Oh... YES... honey, fuck!!!! Wash that smile goo out my pussy!!"
His mother's voice rang out through the air, loud and unrestrained, like a siren's cry that cracked straight through his concentration.
Asher froze.
The voice yanked him back to reality like a lash to the spine. Then came Sharon's high-pitched giggle, playful, and impish.
