u/MommyAmora

Don't get me wrong, watching an experienced MILF who knows her way around and loves that I'm younger than her is always fun.

But what I love most is the subversion of that, a repressed Mom much too busy taking care of her husband and kids. Settled down, lacking but satisfied. Thinks about that one time way back when that she slept with her best friend. Sometimes stares a little too long at the young girl old enough to be her daughter, little does she know that I am staring right back. She doesn't expect anything out of two girls hanging out and chatting, nothing from when I touch her thighs a little too high or lay my head on her chest. So inexperienced, so naive that taking her right in the living room would be the best experience she's ever had.

She wouldn't get what I'm doing until my hand is in her panties, tries to push me off but I'm already two fingers deep and god she is soaked. For someone who "doesn't want it", she's already dripping.

Sighh a girl can dream.

You’re kneeling in the dimly lit chapel long after compline, the candles guttering low on the altar. The old convent is silent except for the distant creak of ancient wood and the soft rustle of your own habit. Your knees ache against the stone floor, but the solitude feels safe. No men are allowed beyond the outer gate. Here, behind these thick walls, surrounded by sisters bound by the same vows, you can finally breathe. Chastity. Modesty. Safety in the sisterhood.

The heavy door sighs open. Another nun steps inside Sister Magdalene, tall and striking even in her black veil and white wimple, the crucifix at her throat catching the candlelight. You recognize the confident stride, the sharp line of her jaw beneath the habit. Relief washes over you. Another woman. Another bride of Christ. You smile faintly and return to your prayers, certain you’re protected. She doesn’t pass by. Her footsteps stop right behind you. The scent of incense and something warmer..her skin? Had drifts over your shoulder and then her hand settles on the small of your back, pressing through the layers of wool and linen like a claim. You stiffen. “Sister…?”

“Shh,” she murmurs, voice velvet and low, echoing softly off the vaulted ceiling. “You looked so tense at vespers, little sister. I thought you’d be glad it’s me and not some man from the village who might have slipped past the gate.” Her palm slides lower, gathering the heavy skirt of your habit. You try to rise, but her other hand lands firmly on your shoulder, holding you down on your knees. Fabric whispers as she tugs your skirt and petticoat up in one slow, deliberate motion, baring your stockinged calves, then your thighs. Cool chapel air kisses your skin.

“Don’t,” you whisper, voice trembling. “Please, we..we took vows.”

She laughs softly, the sound shockingly intimate in this holy place. “We did. Poverty. Obedience. Chastity.” Her fingers trace the edge of your simple cotton undergarments, then slip beneath them without hesitation. “And yet here you are, already wet for a fellow sister. You thought the real danger lived outside these walls. Big, rough men who might corner a pretty novice like you. But me?” Two fingers glide along your folds, parting them, stroking the slickness that betrays you. Your breath hitches sharply. You clutch your rosary so tightly the beads bite into your palm.

You were never safe.

Not even here.

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Everything is up for discussion except:

Writing in third person and at least (3-4 big paragraphs like the one above!!)

Religious themes and non con as well :)

You’re on the late-night subway, the car mostly empty except for the two of you. It’s been a long shift, your feet ache in your flats, and when she slides into the seat across from you. You actually feel yourself relax for the first time in hours. Finally, another woman. No creepy guy staring at your legs, no broad-shouldered stranger “accidentally” brushing past. Just her. Safe. She catches your eye and smiles, warm and easy, like you’re old friends. “Rough night?” she asks, voice low and smooth as the train hums through the tunnel. You nod, laughing a little, and she shifts closer, one stop, then two, until she’s right beside you. Her thigh presses against yours, casual. Comforting, even.

Then her hand lands on your knee.

You freeze, but only for a second. It’s just a woman. Women don’t do this. You’re safe. Her fingers slide higher, slow and deliberate, slipping under the hem of your skirt like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Your breath catches.

“Hey...wait,” you whisper, voice small in the rattling car. You try to close your legs, but she hooks her ankle around yours and yanks them apart just enough. Her palm glides up your inner thigh, nails scraping lightly, and she chuckles softly against your ear. “Shh. You were so tense when I sat down. Thought you’d be happy it’s me and not some man, right?” Her hand doesn’t stop. It cups the front of your panties, pressing the fabric against your pussy with firm, possessive pressure. Heat floods your face. You’re a woman. She’s a woman. This isn’t supposed to happen.

She rubs slow circles over your clit through the thin cotton, the friction building whether you want it or not. Your thighs tremble. You’re breathing too fast, heart hammering like it did when that guy followed you last week except this time the threat is right here, smiling at you with pretty lips and dangerous eyes.

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Requirements: Please be able to write 3-4 paragraphs (like seen above) and write in third person

Everything can be discussed:)