Past Your Curfew

Today Carter gets a lesson she never saw coming. Brandi Love, her stepmom, caught her sneaking home and picked up on that distinct smell of sex. Promises to help Carter stay safe only sound right until they stand bare in Brandi’s bedroom. Brandi peels the leopard dress down, drops her own robe, then sucks two fingers wet. “Dry fingers just hurt,” she says. Her hand slides between Carter’s legs in slow circles, slicking swollen lips, curling inside, working that hidden nerve bundle until Carter stops breathing and starts shaking. Carter mentions friends don’t do this. Brandi’s answer is a soft laugh, then her mouth, spreading Carter wide, tongue flat and insistent, sucking her clit until Carter’s thighs twitch and she feels real pleasure for the first time. When the shaking fades, Brandi lies back, guides Carter’s head between her own spread legs. The younger tongue feels tentative, hungry; Brandi coaches her rhythm with soft moans and firm pulls of hair. She tastes heady, older, coming with a long squeeze of hips around Carter’s face. The strap-on waits beside the bed. Brandi fastens it, sits Carter on the edge, nudges slick silicone inside. Gentle thrusts turn deeper. Carter clings, legs folded back, eyes wide until the pressure bursts into heat and she comes around the toy with quick, hard spasms. Brandi stays buried, lets her feel every throb, then whispers one word against her temple: woman.