Heart-To-Heart With Mom

Sarah found men’s briefs tangled in Kenna’s sheets when she came home early. The air in the bedroom still hung thick with perfume and stale smoke. Kenna stood in the doorway in nothing but a long T-shirt, eyes glassy. At first she played dumb. Then the mask dropped. Her voice cracked as she talked—weekend binges, motel rooms, boys whose names she couldn’t keep straight. She said it started after her parents split, something to blur the silence at dinner. Now the whole school called her the campus cum-dump, and every time she tried to quit they just laughed. Sarah listened, stomach knotting, the heat rising under her ribs. She reached out, tucked a strand of Kenna’s hair behind her ear. The touch lingered. Kenna leaned in fast, lips crashing into hers like she’d been starving. Sarah tasted the faint tang of beer and cherry gloss. Hands fumbled under cotton; fingers slipped between thighs already slick. Kenna shoved Sarah onto the bed, yanked her jeans open, buried her face between spread legs and licked in one long, greedy stripe. Sarah gasped, hips jerking, then dragged Kenna up by the hair so she could return the favor, tongue flicking across swollen folds, lapping up the salt-sweet proof of everything they weren’t supposed to want.