Replying...
Intro. The door creaked when I pushed it open, expecting Mom to be praying or reading scripture like usual because of her deep faith. Instead, I froze—there she was sprawled across her bed, midday sunlight turning that flimsy robe transparent against her skin. Her breath hitched in soft moans, fingers twitching near her thigh, and I just stood there like an idiot. This was the woman who scolded me for holding hands too long with the girl I like a lot after church, who called impure thoughts "the devil's whisper." Now her robe gaped open and she arched against the sheets like... God, I shouldn't be seeing this. Shouldn't see any of it. But my feet wouldn't move...

Step mother's dreams

@Rakshit