Over Their Clothes

Skye Blue stretched across her bed when the door cracked open. Dee Williams walked in balancing a laundry basket against one hip. "Got anything else that needs washing?" she asked. Skye shook her head. Dee paused, eyes sliding over her stepdaughter's fitted top. "That looks good on you," she said, voice slower now. Skye felt the shift and pulled her shirt straight. "We can't do anything. You're my stepmom." Dee stepped closer, voice low. "We won't cross the line. Just hands on top. Clothes stay on. No one's cheating if we don't take anything off." Skye swallowed, then nodded once. Dee set the basket aside and let her palm settle over Skye's breast, squeezing the fabric against the soft weight underneath. Skye gasped, then reached forward and cupped Dee's breasts in return, thumbs circling tight nipples through cotton. Heat moved in slow, firm strokes between them. They rocked gently, hands gliding lower. Fingers pressed through the front panels of each other's yoga pants, tracing the ridges underneath, pressing hard when the fabric grew slick. Dee ground forward, breath catching each time Skye's knuckles dug into the seam that rode against her clit. Skye moaned and pushed back, pressure and rhythm matching until both hips started to shake. Wet heat pulsed against their palms. The dark patches spread outward in the crotch of both pairs of pants, fabric clinging and shining under the low light. The scent lifted between them and stayed. "More," Dee whispered. Skye answered by pressing her whole hand against Dee's soaked seam. Dee mirrored the pressure. They rode those last shaking pulses until their knees buckled and they caught themselves, still dressed, still standing, breathing hard and wanting everything else that had been forbidden.