Eat My Muffin: Part One

Tanya Tate rolled her sleeves up and set the oven timer. Bailey's best friend Scarlett showed early since Bailey's bus stalled out, so the stepmother slid a plate of fresh blueberries across the marble and asked how her weekend had gone. One polite question about the boy Bailey had been seeing, and Scarlett cracked: Bailey could not make a boy come. Tanya set the timer early, wiped her hands on a tea towel, and stepped closer. "Poor darling," she murmured. She took Scarlett's wrist, guided the girl's fingers to her own soft mouth, and sucked two of them in slow, rhythmic pulls. Scarlett's lips parted. Heat rose fast. Tanya knelt, parted the girl's thighs, and showed her with velvet lips and a practiced tongue just how a boy should be finished, then nudged Scarlett's own tongue between the woman's slick folds until both of them were trembling through sharp, wet release on the kitchen floor. Minutes later the distant squeal of bus brakes cut through the haze. Tanya brushed a smear of lipstick from Scarlett's jaw and answered the door with perfect calm, blueberry crumb still on her lip.