Kitchen Apron Antics

Charlie Forde got more than she bargained for when her wife strolled in early. Sophia was supposed to be finishing the semester, not finishing Charlie on the kitchen counter. The second the back door clicked, Sophia dropped between her stepmom's thighs like it was old news. Charlie snatched the nearest apron just as her wife rounded the corner, tying it with hands still slick from what they'd been doing seconds earlier. Sophia stayed low, mouth already working. Charlie's knees nearly buckled. Every wet sound between her legs got lost in fake chit-chat about traffic and what to order for dinner. The apron barely covered anything from the front, but if her wife stepped to the side, game over. Charlie gripped the island harder. Sophia's tongue kept circling, pushing deeper, like she enjoyed the fact they might get caught any second. The risk only made her hungrier. Charlie bit her lip raw trying to keep a straight face while her stepdaughter lapped at her like nobody's business, zero shame, zero intention of stopping. How long until the wife notices the way Charlie's thighs are trembling?