You're A NUDIST Now??

Laura Bentley stares at Lilly Bell. Nude. Bare in the doorway. Fresh from some mountainside fling with the sun and her own skin. Lilly talks fast, explaining enlightenment, body freedom, something about wind. Laura nods, tries to focus on words, fails. Her daughter's nipples keep drawing the eye—small, pink, already tight from the hallway chill. Laura lasts five minutes. She's pouring coffee when Lilly reaches for a mug, one leg cocked, ass tilted, the whole rippled line of her spine bending. Laura's mouth goes dry. Heat floods low in her belly. Ten seconds later, her own thighs press together. "I can't—" She sets the mug down, knuckles white. "Lilly, I see you and... I'm wet." Lilly turns. Calm. Curious. Maybe turned on by the confession. "Then fuck it out of your system," she offers, casual, like suggesting a morning walk. Laura steps back. Her eyes, though, betray every pulse between her legs. A ragged breath slips out. She reaches for her daughter's waist, fingers trembling, then grips. Hard. Nails in soft skin. "This stays here," Laura whispers, dragging Lilly in. Their mouths meet. Tongues clash. Laura's hand slides down the slope of a newly fearless ass and slips between thighs already slick. She sinks two fingers inside, pumps once, groans against the kiss. Lilly wraps a leg around her waist. Laura lifts, pushes, bends the girl back over the counter. Her mouth finds a nipple, sucks hard. Lilly whimpers, hips jerking. When Laura drops to her knees and licks between slick folds, she tastes like distant salt and new heat. The coffee grows cold while Laura feasts, desperate and filthy, refusing to stop until the taste of her stepdaughter stops driving her insane.