On The Wrong Track

Laura figured it out before Carrie even thought to cover her tracks. She slid that little tracker off her keys and dropped it in the backpack like she’d done it a thousand times. One ping later, she’s rolling up on some house she’s never seen, pushing the door open with zero fucks left to give. There’s her stepdaughter ass-up on a stranger’s bed, face buried between another girl’s thighs. Heather. The redhead. Smaller, mouthier, smirking even while she’s getting eaten out. Laura doesn’t knock. She just stands there, arms folded, letting the fury and something hotter simmer under the surface until it snaps. She drags both of them to the edge of the mattress, palms hot, and starts laying into them—hard, open-hand slaps across soft flesh that make Carrie gasp and Heather whine, hips jerking like they’re getting off on the discipline instead of learning from it. Heather twists, sasses, and that’s the last push Laura needs. She grabs the brat by the hair, bends her over Carrie, and works her fingers in rough and fast while she talks filthy about teaching them respect. Carrie gets it next: Laura’s mouth on her clit, sucking hard, two fingers twisting deep until the girl’s legs shake. Every time one of them tries to moan out an apology, Laura just fucks harder, growling that she’s gonna ruin them for keeping secrets. Heather comes first, crying out against the sheets. Carrie follows, thighs clamped around her stepmom’s head, voice breaking. Laura sits back, slick fingers dragging across her lips, smirking like the whole lesson was just foreplay and she’s nowhere near finished with either of them.