Dentist Day

Syren De Mer has a full house and one angry dentist appointment. She’s married, she’s a stepmother to two college girls, and right now she’s looking everywhere for Emma. Her youngest has vanished behind doors and corners the way kids do when they smell something unpleasant on the calendar. On the phone Syren tells Tanya the dentist will wait five more minutes, then she slips into memories neither of them have shaken loose since sophomore year—weekend apartments, stolen vodka, mouths tasting one girl and then the other while the roommate snored beside them. Emma presses herself flat against the hallway wall and hears every filthy detail, thighs pressed tight without meaning to. Syren finally cracks. She calls the girl’s name, voice sharp, and Emma steps out like she’s been there all morning, big eyes daring to look innocent. Syren’s purse hits the table. She decides this little brat needs something far older than lecture. “You think you could lick pussy?” Emma fires the challenge at her stepmother and watches something click behind Syren’s calm stare. They leave the hallway for the bedroom with only the weight of the front door latch between them and the world. Syren peels off jeans first, then panties, planting her knees on the bedspread so Emma can get to work. Her hands fist in the girl’s hair, guiding the tongue that is wet but still too quick. “Slower. Stay longer on the clit when I say so.” Emma’s second try wins a sigh. The third earns a moan that rises without invitation. Syren finally yanks her by the hair, flips her, and climbs over her face until her hips grind down in a practiced, merciless rhythm, serving Emma a mouth full of slick and demanding a second pass. Lesson over, Syren slips two fingers deep, curls once, and Emma’s back bows hard enough the mattress squeals. Her first real orgasm tears out of her in a long, ugly string of curses and whimpers that leave spit on the pillow. Syren’s fingers stay inside until the spasms stop, making sure Emma feels it end with adult certainty rather than her own nervous hand.