Attire Backfire

Annie stomps around the kitchen pissed that Khloe keeps strutting past in those micro shorts and crop tops like the house is her runway. She's sick of it. Time to flip the script. Annie ditches her normal jeans for the tiniest pair of yoga shorts she owns and a sheer tank that leaves zero to the imagination. Boobs bouncing, ass cheeks on full display, she starts parading through the living room like she owns the place, fully expecting Khloe to turn red and run. Instead Khloe's eyes go dark. Her tongue flicks over her bottom lip. Next thing Annie knows, her stepdaughter's right there, fingers sliding up the inside of her thigh, murmuring how hot she looks. Annie's brain short-circuits—she meant to shame the girl, not get her wet. But Khloe's hand is already under the hem of those tiny shorts, and Annie feels her own body answer before her mouth can form a 'no.' One shared look and they're both lost, mouths meeting, clothes barely hanging on.