Stepmother's Discipline

Tanner slips her school bag off the second the door clicks shut. Blonde hair still messy from the bus, she creeps into the bedroom and flips open the leather-bound album her stepmother keeps hidden behind the perfume tray. Page after page of thick, naked men stare up at her. Her fingers trace the glossy curves while warmth spreads between her legs. She is so lost in the sight that she never hears the click of heels. Sandy stands in the doorway, dark hair falling straight over one shoulder, black silk robe open just enough to show the heavy slope of her breasts and the sharp line of her waist. The older woman’s eyes narrow, then soften at the sight of her stepdaughter’s guilty flush. Without a word, Sandy turns and lifts the polished wooden hairbrush from the vanity. Tanner’s voice comes out small. "Please don’t spank me." The words hang there. Then, quick as thought, she pushes the album aside and tugs her plaid skirt higher, sliding onto the edge of the bed so her plump, pale cheeks rise toward Sandy. Her thighs part just enough to let the room’s cool air kiss the slick heat between them. Sandy’s breath deepens. She drops the hairbrush and steps forward, one palm resting on the smooth, rounded swell of Tanner’s ass. Fingers trace the cleft, dip lower, and find the sticky evidence of Tanner’s curiosity. Tanner arches, pushing back against the touch, offering more. Sandy’s other hand grips a handful of blonde hair and pulls her stepdaughter’s face up to meet her gaze. No lecture follows. Just the quiet sound of silk sliding off shoulders as Sandy presses closer, letting the heat of her body cover Tanner’s offered skin.