I Want to Stay with You

Anya stood in the doorway with boxes stacked behind her, watching Reagan fold towels like she had all the time in the world. She cleared her throat. Mom, let me stay. Reagan shook her head without looking up and said she had to go to her father’s. The girl tried every line—dishes, laundry, cooking—but Reagan’s no stayed soft but firm. So Anya climbed onto the bed anyway, straddled her stepmother’s lap, shoved her back onto the pillows, and kissed her hard. She yanked the halter top down, pulled a breast free, and sucked the nipple until it stiffened. Reagan whispered this is wrong, honey, but her hands stayed where they were. Anya kept grinding; she slid the gusset of those black lace panties aside and rubbed her bare cunt over Reagan’s until both were slick. Clothes came off fast after that. Anya peeled away the pink dress and kicked it to the floor while Reagan reminded herself she would fix this later. The girl ducked between Reagan’s legs and licked hard, two fingers sliding in until Reagan came with a low, hoarse cry. When Reagan caught her breath she pulled Anya up, lay her flat, and rocked against her until they both trembled. The pace changed again when Anya sat on her stepmother’s face and rode the wet mouth below her, rolling her hips in steady circles while Reagan tongued every fold. Then they flipped; 69, thighs clamped tight, both women licking and sucking until the last shudder ran through them and the only sound left was harsh breathing on damp skin.