Calming Our Stepdaughter's Nerves

Demi Hawks shuffled up in front of her two stepmoms, Reagan Foxx and Kenzie Taylor. Voice shaky, she asked if they’d listen to her speech for class. They settled back on the couch, all ears. The words stuck in her throat. Second line and Demi was already blanking, face burning. Reagan told her to breathe—slow, deep, try again. Demi tried. Nothing clicked. Kenzie motioned her to face the wall, talk to the plaster. That trick just made Demi’s pulse jump harder. Reagan leaned forward. “Oldest fix. Picture us in our underwear.” Demi blinked. Then she tried. Tried again. No dice. Reagan and Kenzie shared a look, stood up, and peeled off shirts and skirts until only lace and straps remained. Demi’s voice cracked. The lines blurred again. Reagan smirked, stepped close, thumbed the strap of her bra. “Nerves need another way out, baby.” She tugged the clasp open. The bra dropped. Kenzie’s thong followed. Hands on Demi’s hips, they guided her down onto the rug. Clothes vanished. Skin pressed warm. Reagan’s tongue worked in tight circles; Kenzie’s fingers slipped between Demi’s thighs. Breath came ragged. Moans replaced words. Tension slipped free, a quick, wet release that left Demi trembling and empty-headed. She cleared her throat. The opening lines came steady this time—calm, straight, the speech finally rolling off her tongue. Reagan grinned from the floor, lipstick smeared. “Told you. Nothing beats a good shake.”