Mommy's Scent

Chloe Cherry lounges alone in the living room, like it’s any other boring afternoon. Except it isn’t. Soon as the house is quiet, she’s got her nose buried in a pair of her mom’s panties, breathing in every last scent like she’s found a hidden stash of candy. Outside, Cherie DeVille strolls up the walk and catches the whole show through the window. Real cozy little scene until the knock lands on the door. Panic hits. Chloe shoves the evidence down between the couch cushions and goes to answer. Cherie smiles, asks if Mom’s around. Chloe says she’s gone and Cherie asks to come in like it’s nothing. They drop onto the couch, and Cherie lays it out: she saw everything. Chloe stammers, blushes, but Cherie fishes the panties right out like a magician pulling a rabbit. That’s when Chloe’s tongue ties itself in knots. Cherie leans in, cool and smooth. She explains feelings are feelings, being gay isn’t a problem, yet raiding Mom’s laundry is a different beast. That little speech gets Chloe listening hard. Question follows: are these the only ones she’s swiped? Chloe gives in, leads the way to her room, slides open a drawer packed full of stolen goods. Cherie takes one look and sighs, then offers the fix—be the stand-in. She strips off her dress, panties turning into an unintentional show, slips into a silky bra-and-garter set that makes Chloe’s eyes pop. She peels off her own underwear, swaps them for a fresh pair from Chloe’s mom, spritzes her own perfume across the lace. The new scent hits like an open invitation. Chloe can’t blink, can’t breathe, can’t say no. Not when every dirty fantasy she’s ever jerked off to is standing right there, waiting to play out.