Bed Wetter

Ryan sips her coffee at the kitchen island when a glimpse of movement catches her eye. Kenzie slips into the laundry room with her arms full of damp sheets, her fifth set this week. The sight nags at Ryan. Kenzie’s nineteen now, too old to be wetting the bed every night. Later, after the school bus pulls away, Ryan knocks softly on her stepdaughter’s bedroom door and steps inside. She sits on the edge of the bed, voice gentle but firm. Kenzie listens, then laughs. “I don’t piss the sheets, Ryan. I soak them.” Ryan’s brow creases. Kenzie meets her stare without flinching. “Want proof?” She reaches under the pillow for her vibrator, kicks off her shorts, and spreads her legs right there on the mattress. The toy hums to life. Within minutes her hips lift, breath catching, and a hot rush spills from her cunt, soaking the fresh cotton beneath her. Ryan watches, mouth parted, as the wet patch spreads and Kenzie’s thighs tremble. “See?” Kenzie pants, still pulsing. “Not a liar.”