Sarah visits rich godmother. Drunk hints about past with mum lead to mutual masturbation, squirting, 69, liqueur play, deep licking, and full lesbian sex.
Claire was Sarah’s godmother. She had gone to college with Sarah’s mother. She had studied law, become a highly successful lawyer, and bought a penthouse apartment with a wall of glass that looked straight out over the beach. She had never been particularly involved in Sarah’s everyday life, but every year from the time Sarah turned twelve Claire had taken her on an overseas holiday. On those trips she told stories about the old college days with Sarah’s mother, always with a little smile and a quiet hint that something more had happened between them, something Sarah had never been quite sure about.
Claire loved wine. On the last trip before Sarah started college she had given Sarah some and Sarah had become very tipsy while Claire grew properly drunk. At one point Claire’s robe had fallen open, showing the long, toned legs and the shadowed curve of hip. Sarah had looked away too slowly.
In Sarah’s third year of college her mother died in a car accident. Claire flew back to the home town and arranged every detail of the funeral. Afterwards she told Sarah she was welcome at the penthouse any time, to relax, to talk, or simply to be. A few months later Sarah phoned and said she needed a break. Claire paid for the flights without hesitation.
Night of arrival
The penthouse smelled faintly of expensive wine and salt air. Claire met her at the door in a silk robe the color of dark wine, hair still damp from a shower, legs bare. She was fifty-two and carried herself like a woman who had never apologized for a single year of it.
They drank. Claire opened a second bottle of red almost as soon as Sarah’s bags hit the floor. They sat on the long couch facing the glass, the city lights and the dark water stretching out forever. The wine went down too easily. By the time the second bottle was half gone Claire’s voice had loosened.
“You look so much like her,” she said, staring at Sarah’s face in the soft light. “Same mouth. Same eyes when you’re tired. Sometimes I forget you’re not her.”
Sarah’s pulse kicked. “You and Mom at college. You always hinted.”
Claire smiled, slow and a little sad. “We were more than friends for a while. Late nights in her room. Her hands. Mine. We never talked about it after, but it happened. More than once.” She reached out and brushed a strand of hair from Sarah’s cheek with the back of her fingers. “You have her mouth. It’s distracting.”
That was as far as it went. Claire refilled the glasses one last time, then stood unsteadily and kissed Sarah on the forehead the way she always had when Sarah was younger. “Sleep. Guest room’s made up. We’ll talk more tomorrow if you want.”
Sarah lay in the dark guest bed for a long time, the room tilting gently from the wine. She kept seeing Claire’s robe slipping open years ago, the long bare thigh, the quiet way Claire had looked at her tonight when she said she had her mother’s mouth. She wondered what her mother’s hands had felt like on Claire’s skin. She wondered if Claire still thought about it. Eventually the alcohol pulled her under.
The next morning
When Sarah emerged Claire was already in the kitchen, wearing a soft white shirt and nothing else that Sarah could see. The smell of coffee and eggs filled the open space. Claire moved like nothing had been said the night before, easy, bright, completely composed.
“Morning. Sit. I made too much.”
They ate at the counter looking out at the bright water. Claire poured more coffee and said, “I was going to spend the day at the beach. Want to come? It’s perfect out there.”
Sarah glanced down at her travel clothes. “I didn’t pack a swimsuit.”
Claire’s smile was quick. “Then we’ll buy one this morning. My treat. Come on.”
The shop
The boutique was small and expensive, racks of one-pieces in deep colors and cut-out designs that left almost nothing to the imagination. Claire moved through them like she belonged there, holding up piece after piece against Sarah’s body.
“This one. Try it.”
Sarah stepped into the changing room with three suits. She had just wriggled into the first, a black one-piece with high-cut legs and a deep plunging front that barely contained her, when the curtain slid open. Claire stepped inside without asking.
Sarah froze, heart slamming, the suit still half-adjusted, one breast almost fully exposed.
Claire didn’t apologize. She simply took the straps in her hands and began settling them into place, fingers brushing the soft undersides of Sarah’s breasts, smoothing the fabric down over her stomach and hips, tugging the high legs higher until the suit sat exactly where Claire wanted it. Her fingertips grazed the soft mound between Sarah’s legs once, twice, as she adjusted the crotch.
“Perfect,” Claire murmured. “You look dangerous in this.” She paused, looking down at the way the high-cut legs framed the soft trimmed patch of dark hair. “Tomorrow you should shave. These suits look funny even if you have a trimmed bush.”
Sarah felt heat rush into her cheeks. She looked away, embarrassed, but said nothing.
They bought the black one and a deep emerald one that Claire insisted on as well. Claire chose a white one-piece for herself that was almost sheer when wet.
The beach
The day was long and hot. They lay on thick towels under a rented umbrella, oil gleaming on skin. Claire’s white one-piece clung when damp. Sarah’s black suit left little to the imagination. They watched the people walking past, men with broad shoulders, women with long legs and confident strides, and sometimes Claire would lean close and murmur something low about a particular body, a particular walk. Sarah felt the heat of the sun and the heat of Claire’s attention in equal measure.
The cocktail bar
Still in their damp swimsuits and light cover-ups, they walked the short distance to a low-lit place with open windows facing the water. The bartender knew Claire by name. “Who’s the beautiful one?” he asked, nodding at Sarah.
“Family,” Claire said smoothly, and ordered the first round of something strong and tropical.
They drank steadily. Men drifted over, some young, some closer to Claire’s age, offering smiles and compliments. Claire shut every one of them down with a polite but final smile and a turn of her shoulder. She drank faster than Sarah. By the time the sky had gone deep blue her eyes were glassy and her laugh was looser.
Back at the penthouse
The private elevator opened straight into the living room. Claire kicked off her sandals, still in the white swimsuit, and asked, “Another drink?” without waiting for an answer. She mixed two dry martinis, ice-cold and sharp, and brought them to the couch.
She sat close, thigh against thigh, and stared out at the dark ocean for a long moment.
“I miss her,” she said, voice thick. “Your mother. Some nights I still feel her hands on me. The way she used to…” She trailed off, eyes half-lidded, and her hand settled on Sarah’s bare knee. It stayed there, warm, then slowly slid higher, caressing the soft inner thigh in slow, absent strokes.
Sarah went completely still.
“Claire… um, what are you doing?”
Claire didn’t answer. Her fingers slipped under the crotch of the black swimsuit as if she were remembering someone else’s body. She stroked the soft outer lips first, tracing the outline of them through the damp fabric, then found the already-swelling clit and circled it with a lazy, knowing pressure. At the same time her other hand pushed her own swimsuit aside and began working her own cunt in the same rhythm, two fingers sliding slowly through her own folds, spreading the wetness that had already soaked the white fabric.
Sarah stayed frozen, breath shallow, feeling herself grow wetter under Claire’s touch. The circling on her clit grew firmer. Claire’s fingers parted her outer lips and slipped between them, rubbing the slick inner flesh in long, deliberate strokes while her thumb kept steady pressure on the swollen bud. Sarah could hear the soft wet sounds of Claire touching herself, the quiet hitch in Claire’s breathing as she worked her own clit with the same slow intensity.
Then something shifted inside Sarah. She reached down with a trembling hand, pulled the fabric of her own suit fully to the side so Claire had unrestricted access, and gently pushed Claire’s hand away from between her own legs. She slid her fingers into the heat she found there.
Claire was soaked, far wetter than Sarah. The white swimsuit was already darkened with it in a broad patch. Sarah realized Claire had been aroused for hours. She mirrored what Claire had been doing to her, two fingers gliding up and down the slippery length of Claire’s cunt, gathering the thick wetness, then focusing on the hard little clit with firm circular strokes. Claire’s hips gave a small involuntary roll. Sarah pushed two fingers deeper, curling them the way she had felt Claire do to her, and rubbed the heel of her hand against Claire’s clit at the same time.
They touched each other in near silence for a long while, only the soft wet sounds of fingers moving through slick folds and the uneven breathing filling the room. Claire pushing two fingers inside Sarah while her thumb worked the clit in tight, relentless circles. Sarah matched the rhythm, fucking Claire with the same deep strokes, feeling the older woman’s walls clench and flutter around her fingers.
Claire came first, hard and sudden. Her hips jerked, a broken sound escaping her throat as a clear rush of fluid pulsed over Sarah’s hand and onto the couch in several strong spurts. Sarah stared, startled and fascinated. She had never seen anyone squirt before. Without thinking she slid off the couch, knelt between Claire’s thighs, and licked the wetness from Claire’s cunt and inner thighs, tasting salt and something sweeter, cleaning every drop while Claire trembled above her.
Claire’s eyes fluttered open more fully. For a moment she seemed to surface, body tensing as if she might pull away. Then she made a low sound, shifted, and turned so they were stretched out on the wide couch in a sixty-nine. Her mouth closed over Sarah’s clit with sudden focus while her fingers worked inside her. Sarah mirrored her, tongue and lips and fingers, until the dual sensation pulled her over the edge. She came hard against Claire’s mouth, thighs trembling, and the clench of it triggered Claire again, another sharp cry, another warm rush against Sarah’s tongue.
When the last tremors faded Claire lifted her head, eyes still heavy with drink and orgasm, and said almost casually, “Another drink?”
Sarah’s voice was rough. “I would rather have some more of you, Claire.”
Claire looked at her for a long while. “That’s a fine idea.” she said at last.
She stood, strode into the kitchen, and returned carrying a tall, dark bottle of sweet orange liqueur. She took Sarah’s hand and led her out through the open glass doors onto the wide private balcony. The night air was warm and thick with the smell of the ocean. The city lights glittered far below. The ocean was a black sheet stretching to the horizon. Claire set the bottle on the low table beside the long sun lounger, then turned back to Sarah.
She peeled the white swimsuit down her own body first and let it fall. Then she stepped close and did the same to Sarah, slow and deliberate, dragging the black fabric down over hips and thighs until both of them stood completely nude under the stars.
Claire did not touch her at first. She simply stared.
Sarah’s body was younger, firmer, the breasts full and high, nipples already tight from the cooler air, the soft trimmed patch of dark hair between her legs glistening faintly from earlier. Claire’s gaze moved over every inch as if she were memorizing it, shoulders, the curve of waist, the slight swell of belly, the smooth insides of thighs.
Then she stepped forward and laid her hands on Sarah.
They moved slowly. Open palms sliding up Sarah’s arms, across her collarbones, down over the soft weight of her breasts. Claire cupped them, thumbs brushing the nipples in light circles until they stiffened further. Her hands continued downward, spanning Sarah’s ribs, tracing the dip of her waist, then lower. One hand slipped between Sarah’s legs and stroked the outer lips with almost reverent gentleness, feeling how wet she still was, how the soft folds parted under the light pressure.
Sarah’s breath caught.
Claire leaned in and kissed her.
It was deep and long and unhurried, a true French kiss that went on and on. Tongues sliding slowly, exploring, tasting the lingering martini and the juices of their earlier sex. Claire’s hands never stopped moving while they kissed, one still cupping a breast, the other gently parting Sarah’s pussy lips and stroking the slick inner flesh. When they finally broke apart both of them were breathing harder.
“Lie down,” Claire said, voice low and steady. “On your back.”
Sarah obeyed, stretching out on the wide sun lounger. The fabric was still warm from the day’s sun. Claire picked up the bottle, unscrewed the cap, and tilted it.
A thin stream of the sticky orange liqueur poured across Sarah’s upper chest. It ran in warm rivulets between her breasts, over the soft slopes, pooling in the hollow of her throat and sliding down toward her stomach. Claire poured more, across the tops of both breasts, letting it coat the nipples, then lower, a slow deliberate trail down the center of Sarah’s belly until the sweet liquid reached the edge of her trimmed bush.
Some of it seeped immediately into the short dark hair, making the curls glisten and stick together. More ran lower still, between the lips of Sarah’s already-wet cunt and further back, trickling into the cleft of her arse.
Claire set the bottle aside and climbed onto the lounger, straddling Sarah’s thighs. She lowered her head and began to lick.
She started at the throat, long slow strokes of her tongue gathering the sweet sticky liqueur. Then she moved to the breasts, flat of her tongue dragging across the full curves, circling each nipple, sucking the stiffened peaks into her mouth until the liqueur was gone and only the taste of Sarah’s skin remained. She licked every drop from the gap between them, then followed the trail down Sarah’s stomach, tongue dipping into her navel, cleaning every sticky path.
When she reached the trimmed bush she spent long minutes there, licking the matted curls clean, sucking the sweet liquid from the short hairs, spreading Sarah’s thighs wider so she could see how the liqueur had mixed with Sarah’s own wetness. She licked the outer lips thoroughly, then parted them with her thumbs and dragged her tongue from the entrance all the way up over the swollen clit, collecting every trace of orange sweetness and cunt juice together.
Then Claire pushed Sarah’s legs back, folding them until her knees were pressed near her ears. The position completely opened her, exposing every inch of her young pussy and the tight pink rim of her arse to Claire’s gaze. Claire looked down at her for a moment, then lowered her mouth again.
“Your mother liked it when I did this,” Claire said quietly, voice low against Sarah’s skin. “I hope you do too.”
She licked lower still, into the cleft of Sarah’s arse, tongue sliding slowly along the sensitive skin, cleaning the sticky trail of liqueur that had run there, circling the tight rim with deliberate pressure before returning to Sarah’s dripping pussy. She worked her tongue between both openings, long slow strokes that cleaned every drop of the sweet liquid while Sarah trembled and held her own legs in place.
Sarah was shaking, one hand pulling Claire’s hair, the other gripping the edge of the lounger.
Claire lifted her head, mouth shining. “You taste like booze and cum, my two favorite things.” she murmured, then settled in properly.
She licked Sarah open with long, thorough strokes, alternating between broad flat licks and the pointed tip of her tongue flicking the clit. Two fingers slid inside and curled, stroking the front wall in steady rhythm while her mouth worked. She added a third finger when Sarah’s hips began to roll, stretching her, fucking her with deep measured thrusts of her hand while she sucked hard on the clit.
Sarah came with a deep moan, legs clamping around Claire’s head, cunt pulsing around the fingers. Claire kept licking her fully exposed pussy, slower now, gentler, until the aftershocks faded.
Then she moved up Sarah’s body and kissed her again, deep, sharing the mixed taste of liqueur and cum. While they kissed she shifted, swinging one leg over so they were scissoring, cunt to cunt. She pressed down, grinding their wet folds together in slow, deliberate circles, clit against clit, the slick sounds loud in the quiet night air.
Sarah’s hands found Claire’s arse and pulled her harder against her. Claire set the pace, long grinding rolls of her hips, then shorter, sharper thrusts that made both of them gasp. She reached down between them and rubbed Sarah’s clit with two fingers while she continued to grind, never breaking the wet contact of their cunts.
When Sarah came again Claire followed almost immediately, head thrown back, a low moan tearing from her throat as her own orgasm rolled through her in hard waves.
They did not stop.
Claire turned Sarah onto her side, lifted the top leg high, and pressed in behind her. She reached around and worked two fingers back into Sarah’s soaked cunt while her other hand played with Sarah’s clit. At the same time she rubbed her own wet pussy against the soft curve of Sarah’s arse, using the friction and the pressure of her fingers to bring herself off again while she fucked Sarah through a third climax.
Later she had Sarah on all fours on the lounger, face down, arse raised. Claire knelt behind her and ate Sarah’s now swollen pussy from behind, tongue buried deep in her cunt, then sliding up to rim the tight hole, then back again, while her fingers rubbed tight circles on Sarah’s clit. When Sarah was shaking and begging in soft mewing sounds, Claire reached for the liqueur bottle again, poured a thin stream directly down the cleft of Sarah’s arse and watched it run over her pink tight arsehole and swollen cunt, then licked every drop away once more before burying three fingers inside her and curling them hard.
Sarah came with a loud, helpless cry that echoed off the buildings below.
Claire finally let herself collapse onto the lounger beside her, both of them slick with sweat, liqueur, and each other’s cum. She pulled Sarah against her, one thigh thrown over Sarah’s hip, and kissed her slowly, deep, lingering, almost tender.
“You’re not going back to the guest room,” Claire said against her mouth. “Not tonight. Not tomorrow night either.”
Sarah only nodded, already reaching between Claire’s legs again, fingers sliding through the wet pussy lips, ready for whatever Claire wanted next.
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