An Independent Woman

Riley Anne drags herself through the front door after school, already feeling low. Serene waits in the kitchen, and they greet each other with quick kisses and smiles. Serene notices the sag in her step-daughter's shoulders. She presses. After some back-and-forth, Riley blurts it out: her home-ec teacher told the class they need to learn how to cook for their future husbands. The words hang in the air like smoke. Serene slams a dish down and launches. Women are independent, she spits, railing against every outdated rule. Lesbians, pansexuals, poly people—none of them need a man to serve. Riley half-laughs, half-pleads for her to stop, but heat climbs up her neck as she watches the older woman burn. There's something sharp and exciting about Serene's fury. She presses her thighs together without thinking. Serene catches the tiny shift, her eyes flicking down, a grin breaking wide. 'Horny?' she asks outright. Riley's silence is answer enough. Serene's face turns serious: she won't let Riley go through life waiting on someone else for pleasure. She pulls the girl upstairs. Clothes come off fast. Serene talks her through every move, then takes over—fingers sliding between soft folds, circling her clit until Riley's hips buck. She pushes two fingers deep, curling hard. Riley moans loud, hips rocking. When she begs, Serene replaces her hand with her tongue, lapping in long, wet strokes that make Riley cry out. Finally they grind—Serene on top, thighs locked, wet cunts sliding together until Riley shakes through the orgasm that's been waiting all day. Both are slick, spent, breath fogging the bedroom air.