My Dirty Little Secret

Barbara finds the diary tucked under her daughter's mattress. She flips it open and the first page hits her like a slap: love between women, raw and desperate. The shock snaps her straight. She wants to corner her daughter, demand answers. But the girl swears the book belongs to Gabriel, her friend. Barbara's pulse shifts. She drives to the girl's place instead. They sit on the couch. Barbara tries to be the wise older woman, tells her no shame in wanting a girl. The air gets tight. Gabriel's stare darkens, and before Barbara can finish the sentence Gabriel grabs her face and kisses her hard. Mouth hot, tongues sliding, clothes suddenly tight and useless. Barbara's hands go where they shouldn't: under Gabriel's shirt, finding the bra clasp, snapping it loose. She palms small, firm tits, thumbs circling hard nipples, making the girl whimper against her teeth. Gabriel pushes Barbara back, yanks her blouse open, teeth scraping her throat. Skirts hike up; panties slide down. The older woman spreads her legs, lets younger fingers find the wet heat between them, pumping slow then fast while Barbara moans into the younger woman's hair. They tumble across the cushions, bodies slick, mouths locked, nothing left of friendship or lectures, only breath, heat, and the urgent need to fuck each other senseless.