My Mom's A Virgin

Arietta sulked in her room when Lauren sat beside her. Boy trouble again. The stepmom listened, then shrugged and said some men just vanish once they learn the truth. When Arietta brought up her late father, Lauren smiled the way she always did: warm, a little sad, never bitter. Arietta sighed. “Sex is so fucking complicated.” She wanted to know when Lauren had lost it. Lauren froze, cheeks flushed. She dodged, twisted the question, but the truth slipped out anyway: she had never been touched. She had waited for him—Arietta’s father—and then the wedding night never came. Arietta studied her a long second, then leaned closer. “You took care of me all these years. Let me take care of you.” Her palm slid up Lauren’s thigh. Lauren swallowed, protested once, but heat pooled low in her belly and melted the rest of her words. Arietta kissed her—slow, coaxing—then firmer when Lauren opened. The kiss turned greedy. Arietta pushed the robe off Lauren’s shoulders. She took each hard nipple into her mouth, sucked until Lauren’s back arched, then licked lower. Tongue parting soaked folds, she worked lazy circles until Lauren shook and came, surprised at the wet pulse on her daughter’s lips. Arietta didn’t stop. Fingers filled her next, curling just right while her mouth stayed busy until Lauren’s thighs clamped tight around her wrist and the older woman spilled again, louder, wetter, undone. Lauren lay spent, legs still trembling, eyes glassy. Arietta kissed the inside of her knee and smiled. “Told you. Special.”