So...That Makes Us Sisters

Darcie and Adria tangle on the sheets when the phone goes off. Picture pops up. Both moms, arms around each other, rings on their fingers. Married and never said a word. The girls stare. They’re sisters now? That thought drops like cold water. How long? When did it start? Were they the reason? Two mouths trading spit had somehow pushed their mothers together. The idea sticks in the gut and also curls heat lower down. Adria snorts. “Sis.” Darcie freezes. Tells her cut that word right now. Adria grins and says it again, rolling the dirty new truth across her tongue. Doesn’t matter. Clothes already hit the floor. Darcie peels Adria’s top, drags her tongue across hard nipples. Every kiss tastes nastier now that it’s forbidden twice over. Nails claw, hips grind, the new label an extra spark between wet thighs. Adria slides down, parts Darcie open, laps until the bed shakes and Darcie’s back arches off the mattress. Switch. Darcie strips Adria bare, buries her face between trembling legs. They twist into 69, thighs clamping ears, muffled cries lost in cunt and sweat. Every lick feels filthier because Mommies might walk in, ground them, or worse, join. They come hard, slick and shaking, two not-quite sisters drunk on exactly how wrong it is.