Homesick

Natasha Nice and Sheena Ryder run a private clinic together. They're married, still touchy in the hallways, and bossy about their girls. Their stepdaughter Nadia just rolled back from college looking gray and wiped out. They order her onto the exam table right there in the kitchen. Sheena starts simple, prying Nadia's mouth open, shining a light in her eyes, checking each ear—nothing. Natasha leans in and says they ought to listen to her lungs next. The stethoscope hits cotton and the sound's dead. So Nadia peels off her shirt, then her bra, cool air hitting her tits. They keep going. Hands slide over her ribs, press into her belly, tap reflexes at her knees. All clear. They grill her on the timeline and it clicks—plain old homesickness. That’s their cue. The two women crowd in, warm skin, heavy tits, and Nadia melts straight into them. Lips find nipples without asking. Sucking turns greedy. One hand cups, the other squeezes. Tongues circle, teeth graze, and every pull draws a low moan. The energy flips from worry to heat fast. Breathing gets rough. Fingers wander lower. Clothing slips off three bodies. When the stepmoms trade glances they don’t bother with words. They tug Nadia onto the couch, spread her out, and make damn sure the cure involves everybody coming hard.