Our Girl's All Grown Up

Leah sat on her bed, writing the same line twice in her diary, smiling after the second time. Eighteen. Downstairs, Cory balanced on a stool taping streamers while Nadia wrestled another pack of balloons from the plastic. “Think we went overboard?” Cory asked. Nadia grinned. “It’s not every day you officially turn eighteen and you finally get what belongs to you.” Leah walked into the living room and the balloons almost bounced into her face. She stopped, took it all in, and whispered, “You really did all this for me?” Cory set the tiara on her head, Nadia draped the sash across her chest; both mothers kissed her cheeks at once. For a moment they just stood there, arms tangled, telling each other how good it felt to finally be together the way they wanted. Leah bit her lip and tipped her chin toward them. “Does that mean we can start the tradition now?” Nadia answered by sliding her hand under Leah’s shirt, and Cory’s mouth met Leah’s open and unhurried. Fingers found warm skin, then the clasp of her bra; both women cupped her breasts, thumbs stroking until her nipples tightened. “Eighteen strokes for an eighteenth birthday,” Cory murmured. They turned her around, bent her gently over the back of the couch, and delivered firm, open-palmed spanks—each one counted out loud until Leah’s skin glowed and her breathing hitched. When the last slap landed, Cory slipped two fingers between Leah’s thighs, gathering the slick that had already gathered there. Nadia kissed the heat on her ass and whispered, “Plenty more where that came from.”