The Bare Minimum

Jackie watched her stepmother Selena sort through piles of dresses, shirts, and skirts scattered across the garage floor. Selena stood there naked, sorting each garment like it meant nothing. Jackie froze. Her stepmother’s body caught every bit of afternoon light. Smooth breasts, soft belly, the thin strip of hair between her thighs. Selena’s new nudity practice demanded every last stitch get packed for the sale. Jackie grabbed an old sweater and folded it, but her hands shook. Each time Selena bent over, Jackie caught a flash of wet lips between her legs. The more they worked, the tighter Jackie’s shorts felt. Heat pooled low. Her nipples rubbed the fabric of her top until they ached. Selena moved with ease, sliding shirts from hangers, dropping bras into donation bags. Jackie watched the gentle sway of her stepmother’s breasts and had to press her thighs together. Selena finally paused, studying Jackie’s flushed face. “What’s going on?” she asked softly. Jackie swallowed, words tumbling out about how the naked skin everywhere made her wet and restless. Selena’s mouth curved in a slow smile. She stepped closer, voice low and calm. “Then let’s take a break and take care of it,” she offered, reaching for Jackie’s waistband. Her fingers slid under cotton, finding slick heat, and Jackie’s breath caught. Selena guided her onto a pile of clean sheets stacked by the door. The sale could wait. Jackie parted her knees willingly, letting Selena’s mouth and fingers map every wet inch she had denied herself.