Mother Dearest

Gabbie sits on her bed with her legs spread, two fingers working in tight circles on her soaked slit. She can’t stop thinking about Nancy—the way her tits strain against silk blouses, the thick curve of her ass when she bends over. The forbidden knot in Gabbie’s stomach tightens each time. She moans low, pressing harder, thinking this time maybe she’ll finally come and stop wanting her own stepmom. The door swings open. Nancy stands there, mouth parting in shock. Gabbie yanks her hand away, sheets bunched in her fist, but the smell of her own pussy hangs in the air between them. For a second neither speaks. Then Gabbie swallows hard and says it straight: she’s wanted Nancy since the first week the woman moved in, wanted her mouth, wanted to taste her cunt, wanted Nancy on top of her, grinding until they both shook. Nancy’s eyes narrow. Heat and anger wrestle across her face, but Gabbie doesn’t blink. She crawls to the edge of the bed, reaches for Nancy’s wrist, presses a slow kiss to the pulse point. Her voice drops, raw: “I’ll do anything. Just touch me.” Nancy’s breath stutters. Her fingers curl in Gabbie’s hair instead of pulling away. Tension cracks. Nancy steps between her stepdaughter’s open thighs, leans down, and takes the girl’s mouth like she’s been starving for it. The kiss turns wet, teeth and tongue, Nancy’s hand sliding down to cup Gabbie’s dripping pussy, fingers slipping inside with a sound that’s half apology, half surrender. She fucks her stepdaughter slow, then harder, until Gabbie’s crying out against her neck, hips jerking, coming so fierce Nancy has to clamp a hand over her mouth to keep the house quiet. After, Nancy strips—blouse open, heavy breasts spilling free—and pushes Gabbie flat, climbing over her face so the girl can tongue her aching clit until Nancy’s thighs quake and she growls Gabbie’s name like a confession she’ll never take back.