The Wet Dream

Mindi's sipping afternoon coffee when a racket upstairs grabs her attention. Curious, she climbs up and finds her step-daughter Moka flopping around in the sheets, stuck in a nightmare. Mindi shakes her awake, asking if she's all right. "My underwear's soaked," Moka admits. Mindi slides under the covers beside her, stroking her hair, telling her everything's fine now. After a few quiet minutes Moka finally recalls the dream: chasing Mindi through it until Mindi grabbed her and kissed her. Mindi smirks because the dots connect for her—this was a wet dream about her. Flat­tered as hell, she turns the petting dial up, fingers gliding like she already owns Moka's skin. Moka whispers if it's all right she dreamed that. Mindi leans in, murmuring sure it is, lips brushing until they lock, slow and thirsty, tongues sliding. Moka peels Mindi's dress off, palms those heavy tits, and begs to suck them. Mindi just drops her panties and pushes her face between silky thighs. Nothing tastes better than Mom's cunt, and they 69 like they planned it for weeks—tongues licking tight, puckered holes until both women shudder hard and collapse. Sometimes you really do wake up with what you dream about.