Remote Control

Carmen Caliente walks in and finds Holly Heart in the kitchen. Her favorite show is on. She bolts upstairs, changes into something loose, and sprints back down to claim the remote. Holly is a step behind, but Carmen wins and plants herself on the couch. One click and the screen fills with two girls fucking, bodies tangled, hands everywhere. Both women freeze. Carmen has no idea what girl-on-girl even feels like. She wants her dad to explain, yet she also wants a woman’s take. Holly is her step-mom, sure, but she counts. Holly peels off her top and lets her full breasts swing free. “Like what you see?” she asks, nodding at the screen. Carmen’s eyes flick between the TV and the stiff nipples right in front of her. Curiosity wins. Holly slips behind her and takes a nipple into her warm mouth. The slow drag of her tongue shoots straight between Carmen’s legs. “Want to taste me?” Holly lies back on the couch and spreads. Carmen kneels. She runs her tongue up Holly’s slit the way she is told, slow then faster, lapping up every wet streak that slides over her lip. Holly’s thighs quiver; a fresh rush of slick coats Carmen’s chin. “Now your fingers,” Holly breathes. Two slide into that snug heat, curving until Holly’s hips buck. Carmen sucks the taste off her own hand and dives back in for more. Holly flips them. She presses Carmen down, opens her with sure fingers, then crawls on top so their cunts press together. They rock—slippery skin sliding, soft hair brushing, hips circling. Carmen’s breath comes in short gasps. When the first hard orgasm rips through her she cries out, shaking under Holly’s weight. Still panting, she looks up. “Samantha should see this,” she says. “Maybe her too.”