My BFF's Mom

Angela dreads Elle’s departure. Her stepdaughter feels nothing of the kind. She has been avoiding her stepmother since their last therapy session—the one where they fucked. When Angela opens the door to Kristen, Elle’s best friend, she sees only a pair of bright eyes and small breasts beneath a thin tee. Kristen offers to help while Elle is gone. Angela thanks her and expects her to leave; instead Kristen steps inside and presses the door closed with her heel. She already knows what happened on that couch. She wants the same thing. She wants to call Angela Mommy. Angela tells herself to stay calm. Her thighs are slick before Kristen even touches her. The girl’s hands move quickly—under the hem, between the buttons—until Angela stands bare from the waist down. Kristen stares, wet-mouthed, then sinks to her knees. Her tongue slides up Angela’s slit in a long, slow stroke that ends at her swollen clit. Angela’s knees buckle. She grips the table behind her, breath coming fast, guilt pressing on every nerve while pleasure tears straight through it. Clothes fall. Bodies meet. Kristen climbs over her on the living-room rug, tits brushing Angela’s, hips already searching. They rock together, wetness smearing, clits catching, every slide louder and faster until their thighs shake. When they come it’s sharp, sudden, and impossible to silence. The door is still unlocked. Elle’s key could turn at any second. Neither of them stops.