Lonely Lunchtime

Jewell Marceau walked the familiar corridors of her stepdaughter's high school carrying the forgotten lunch. She found Freya alone in a dim, empty classroom. Freya had been hiding there each day since coming out. Classmates teased her without mercy, called her names, left crude messages on her locker. Jewell set the lunch down and pulled the girl close, pressing Freya's cheek to the warm curve of her breasts. Her heartbeat thudded under Freya's ear. Neither meant for the moment to turn, yet when Jewell felt Freya's breath quicken and her own nipples tighten against soft cotton, denial slipped away. Hands moved with sudden urgency, skirts hiked, desks shoved aside. Freya sank to her knees first, tongue stroking quick and hot between her stepmother's thighs. Jewell bit her lip to stay silent. They switched places moments later, Jewell bending Freya over the teacher's desk, fingers slick inside the younger girl while her thumb worked tight circles over her clit. The cheap linoleum squeaked each time the desk legs shifted. Breath came fast, ragged, but they kept it low. Clothes stayed mostly on, zippers half-drawn, panties stretched aside. Sweat gathered at Jewell's lower back. Freya muffled sharp little cries against her own forearm. When they finished they straightened skirts and hair with shaking hands, cheeks flushed, lunch untouched on the corner of the desk.