M-O-M Spells... Sex!

Penny shuffled index cards at the kitchen table, eyes snagging on the first word: 'vulva.' She showed it to Spikey, sitting opposite with a notepad and a pencil tapping. He blinked. 'That mean the girl parts, honey,' she said matter-of-fact. His face colored. He spelled it—V-U-L-V-A—and she ticked it off. Next card. 'Cunnilingus.' Penny sucked in a sharp breath. 'Jesus, what kinda spelling bee is this?' Spikey sounded it out, got told exactly what the word meant, then froze when she spelled out the tongue-on-clit choreography. The word hung there. Suddenly his shorts pushed up into a blunt ridge. Penny’s gaze dropped, locked. 'Fuck, baby. If this hits you onstage you're cooked.' Spikey bit his lip, nervous. She stood, tugged the waistband of his shorts. 'We empty that tank right now, you won’t pop wood in front of the whole school.' He nodded, fast. Penny shoved his chair back, climbed into his lap, yanked her panties aside, and sank onto him in one wet slide. The table legs scraped. She rode him hard—hips snapping, tits bouncing under a half-open blouse—breathing filthy encouragement between kisses. Spikey’s hands clamped her ass. He came quick, a strangled grunt against her neck, warm spurts flooding her. She milked every drop, kissed his temple. 'There. Now spell straight and try not to think about step-mom pussy while you do it.'