I'm Afraid Mommy

Goldie picks horror for the prickling rush down her spine. Nina likes that her girl wants company, so they settle on the couch with the lights low. Nina’s fingers slide through Goldie’s long blonde hair while the movie opens on two women peeling off their clothes until only thongs remain. Goldie insists she’s old enough; Nina is less sure. Then the killer lunges from the bushes. Goldie squeals, buries her face between her step-mom’s big natural breasts, heart hammering against Nina’s own. When the fright fades, the screen shows the girls touching each other. Nina bolts upright to hit the lights. Goldie admits she downloaded the film on purpose—she’s curious about women, about her own body, and she’s never once touched herself. Nina studies her for a moment, then slips out of her clothes. Goldie follows, small perky tits meeting the air beside Nina’s heavy ones. They lean back together. Nina talks her through it—where to press, how to circle—until Goldie’s fingers falter. Nina turns the volume higher, paints the scene with words, but Goldie’s gaze keeps drifting to the woman beside her. Soon their hands trade places. Nina’s mouth finds Goldie’s nipples, then lower, until every shy question dissolves into the first wet, shaking climax Goldie has ever known.