The sun was relentless.
It beat down on Georgia’s creamy skin like a hot hand pressing against her shoulders, her chest, the back of her neck. Even in the shade of the old magnolia tree, the air was thick, soupy—more steam than breeze. Her raven-black hair clung to the sides of her face in damp waves as she sank her trowel into the garden bed one last time, exhaling a small grunt as she tugged a stubborn weed free.
Her tank top was soaked through, clinging like a second skin to the swell of her breasts, the curve of her ribs. The soft cotton of her black shorts had risen up over her hips, exposing even more of her toned thighs than she realized. Sweat trickled down the valley between her breasts, caught on the edge of the red bikini top she’d slipped on beneath her tank earlier. Just in case.
She straightened, wiped her brow with the back of her hand, and glanced at the old thermometer nailed to the wooden fence.
92 degrees.
Humidity: 98%.
Misery: Absolute.
Georgia let out a low groan and let the trowel fall into the grass. That was enough. The tomatoes could wait. She’d given her sweat and her skin to this garden all morning. Now she deserved something cold.
She peeled the damp tank top off her body and let it fall to the grass. It clung to her fingers as she tugged it free. The red bikini top popped into full view, tight across her chest, slightly darker now from the moisture. She was already halfway to the pool by the time she slipped her shorts down her legs, kicking them off as she walked, revealing the matching bottoms clinging snugly to her round hips.
The flagstone around the pool burned her bare feet, but the sight of the shimmering water—blue and perfect—was enough to keep her going.
She paused at the edge, toes curling against the tile. Her skin glistened in the sun, flushed from heat and effort. The garden behind her was still, birds silent in the midday haze. She tilted her head back, eyes closing for a beat, letting the sun coat her skin in gold. Sweat traced the elegant lines of her neck, between her breasts, over her stomach.
She stepped forward—and dove.
The water swallowed her whole, icy and delicious. Her body arched, stretched, moved like silk through the deep. She surfaced with a gasp and a grin, dark lashes dripping, hair slicked back and gleaming like oil. Her nipples peaked visibly beneath the wet fabric, tight from the cold, from the contrast between water and heat, from something deeper stirring in her belly.
She floated onto her back, legs stretched, the sun warming her face again.
And then—
A sound.
A creak on the deck. A shadow.
Someone was watching.
Georgia blinked against the sun as the shadow shifted.
“Girl,” a warm, smoky voice called from the edge of the deck, “you need to put some sunblock on that creamy skin!”
Georgia laughed, the sound light and teasing as she treaded water. “Yes ma’am,” she called back, her grin playful.
Debra was standing near the garden gate, one perfectly arched silver brow raised. She was dressed in a breezy white linen button-up—undone to the middle of her chest, hinting at a bronzed décolletage—and a pair of tan shorts that stopped just shy of those long, tanned thighs. Even in flat sandals, she moved with the poise of someone born to be looked at. And she was—often.
At fifty-two, Debra had a kind of beauty that turned heads in grocery stores and left men of all ages tongue-tied. Her silver hair was thick and silky, falling just past her shoulders in elegant waves, glinting in the sun like frost. Her skin was honey-warmed and freckled just enough across the bridge of her nose. The kind of woman who could say “bless your heart” and leave you ruined in the same breath.
Georgia swam to the side of the pool and hoisted herself out, water cascading down her body in glistening trails. Her bikini clung tight to her every curve—red and wet and indecently small. Debra’s gaze followed the water as it ran down Georgia’s back, over the curve of her ass, down her toned legs. Not openly. Not quite. But the air shifted.
Georgia walked over, cheeks flushed—not from the sun.
“I was just swinging by,” Debra said, tilting her head slightly, “for those canned tomatoes your mama said she set aside for me.”
“Oh yeah,” Georgia said, brushing damp strands from her face. “They’re in the kitchen. I’ll grab ’em in a sec. Want a drink or anything?”
Debra waved her off gently, eyes scanning the sky like she was checking for a storm. “Nah. Just figured I’d stop by while the mister’s still at the church. I needed a little… reprieve.” Her mouth curled up in a knowing smile.
Georgia chuckled and grabbed a towel, squeezing water from her hair. She turned around as she did, exposing her back. “You were probably right about the sunscreen, though. I can already feel my shoulders baking.”
Debra’s eyes traced the pink tinge on Georgia’s pale skin. “Turn around, sugar. I gotcha.”
Georgia paused. And then slowly, turned, towel still clutched in front of her, bare back glistening in the sun.
Debra stepped closer, unscrewing the cap from a bottle of sunblock she pulled from her tote. The squelch of the lotion breaking the bottle’s seal sounded loud in the quiet.
Cool cream touched Georgia’s hot skin. She inhaled sharply.
“Cold?” Debra asked, amused.
“Just a little,” Georgia said softly, eyes fluttering shut.
Debra’s hands were practiced, warm and strong as they moved over Georgia’s back, up across her shoulders, slow and careful along the nape of her neck. The scent of coconut and something floral bloomed around them.
“I remember when you were knee-high and chubby-cheeked,” Debra murmured, rubbing small circles into Georgia’s skin. “And now look at you.”
Georgia’s voice was light, teasing. “You saying I’m not chubby anymore?”
Debra’s laugh was low and intimate. “Baby, there ain’t a damn thing wrong with a little curve. Especially when you wear it like that.”
Georgia glanced back over her shoulder, her eyes catching Debra’s for a half-second longer than polite. Something danced between them—fleeting and electric. Then Georgia looked away, her breath a little shallower.
“You’re all set,” Debra said eventually, pulling back. “Though if you want to avoid a sunburn, you best stay outta that water too long.”
“I’ll behave,” Georgia said with a slow smile, still facing away. “Maybe.”
Debra chuckled. “Your mama raised a handful.”
“And you love it.”
Debra didn’t answer. But her smile deepened.
Debra capped the bottle, but didn’t step back right away.
Her eyes lingered on Georgia’s profile—damp hair trailing over one shoulder, lips slightly parted, her bikini top still glistening with water, the red fabric almost translucent where it clung to the soft swells of her breasts.
Then, casual as summer rain, Debra said, “Now what kind of sense does it make, covering up just your back? That creamy skin of yours needs a little more care, sugar.”
Georgia glanced back, playfully suspicious. “Are you saying I need sunscreen on my front, too?”
Debra gave a crooked smile. “Only if you’re plannin’ on keepin’ all that delicious skin burn-free.”
Georgia giggled, breathless from the heat—and maybe something else. “Yes please, thank you,” she said, fanning herself once. “I hate getting that stuff on my hands, which is why I never wear it. I know, I know—terrible.”
Debra’s chuckle was rich and smooth. “Terrible,” she agreed teasingly, then nodded toward the lounge chair. “Go on and lie back, darlin’. Let me take care of you.”
Georgia moved without thinking—something in Debra’s voice made her muscles go soft and obedient. She laid down on the sun-warmed lounge chair, the towel beneath her damp from her skin. Her arms rested at her sides, her body on full display—breasts rising beneath the snug bikini top, stomach taut, hips wide and inviting. Her legs, still glistening, stretched long under the sun.
Debra sat on the edge of the lounger beside her and opened the bottle again. The cold lotion touched Georgia’s forearm first, making her shiver slightly.
“I used to hate this part when I was your age,” Debra said idly, smoothing the cream into Georgia’s skin. “Didn’t wanna ruin a tan. Didn’t realize I was already perfect.”
Georgia let out a soft hum, her eyes fluttering closed. “You’re still perfect,” she murmured, barely realizing she’d said it aloud.
Debra’s hand paused on her shoulder, then slid lower—over the curve of Georgia’s bicep, then across the top of her chest. She worked in slow, circular motions, her touch gentle but firm, deliberate. Her fingers brushed just beneath the line of Georgia’s bikini top, knuckles grazing soft flesh.
“You’re sweet,” Debra said, her voice low and close. “But I think you might be a little biased.”
Georgia smiled, eyes still closed. “Maybe.”
Debra’s hands moved down—tracing the centerline between Georgia’s breasts, barely grazing, before moving over her ribs. Then lower, smoothing the lotion across Georgia’s stomach, the movements firmer now, teasing the line of her obliques, gliding close to the edge of her bikini bottoms.
“Flat as a board,” Debra murmured, half to herself. “And still soft in all the places that matter.”
Georgia’s breath hitched.
Debra pretended not to notice, instead dipping her hand again into the lotion. She shifted, placing one hand gently on Georgia’s knee, and began rubbing the cool cream up her leg, slow and sure. The inside of Georgia’s thighs twitched beneath the touch.
“You always had such strong legs,” Debra said casually. “Remember that time you beat all those boys in that sack race at the church picnic? I knew right then you were a heartbreaker.”
Georgia laughed, breathless. “That was, like… years ago.”
Debra hummed. “And look at you now.”
Her hand reached the top of Georgia’s thigh, just shy of where red fabric began. Her thumb stroked slow, teasing circles near the crease of Georgia’s bikini line. Her other hand mirrored the movement on Georgia’s opposite leg.
Georgia’s lips parted again in a soft sigh. Her fingers gripped the edge of the lounge chair, knuckles pale.
“You alright, sugar?” Debra asked, her voice velvety, her touch unhurried.
Georgia opened her eyes just enough to meet hers. “Mmhmm,” she said softly, her cheeks blooming with color. “It just feels really nice.”
Debra smiled. “Good,” she said. “I like takin’ my time.”
Debra’s hands continued their slow glide, circling higher on Georgia’s thighs now, lingering at the silken skin just beneath the hem of her bikini bottoms. Her thumbs pressed into the tension there—gentle, firm, easing knots Georgia hadn’t even realized she carried.
“Mmm,” Georgia exhaled, body slack, eyes half-lidded in the heat. Her legs eased open with the kind of surrender that didn’t feel deliberate—just instinct, just ease, just… trust.
Debra’s fingers didn’t falter. She worked her way outward, then back in again, rhythm steady, her palms slick and warm.
“So,” Debra said softly, as if her hands weren’t massaging the tops of Georgia’s inner thighs. “How’s school going, baby girl?”
Georgia blinked out of her haze and let out a breathy chuckle. “Oh—it’s good. Busy. Exams were hell.”
“I bet,” Debra murmured, smoothing her thumbs up the sensitive curve where thigh met hip. “You’ve always been a hard worker, though. Smart as a whip.”
Georgia flushed, looking away. “Thanks.”
They were quiet for a few moments. The only sound was the occasional breeze rustling the trees and the slow, slick whisper of lotion being smoothed into skin.
“Made any time for fun?” Debra asked, dipping her hands again and spreading lotion down the backs of Georgia’s calves, then back up, circling.
Georgia let out a sleepy sound. “Not really.”
“No boys chasin’ after you on that big ol’ campus?” Debra teased, voice light, casual, but edged with curiosity.
Georgia smiled, but didn’t look at her. Her eyes stayed on the pool, watching sunlight flicker over the water.
“No,” she said after a beat. “Not really into them.”
Debra’s hands stilled, just for a second—long enough for Georgia to notice.
“Not into boys?” Debra echoed gently, her thumbs resuming their slow, almost hypnotic path up Georgia’s thighs again. “Is that so?”
Georgia’s blush deepened, creeping down her neck and across her chest.
“I just…” She hesitated. “I guess I pay more attention to other things. Other people.”
Debra tilted her head, silver hair catching the light. Her voice lowered, soft and warm as velvet.
“Other girls?”
Georgia hesitated. Then, barely above a whisper: “Yeah.”
It lingered there between them—thick and sweet and buzzing with something unspoken.
Debra didn’t laugh. Didn’t tease. Her hands moved with reverence now, one smoothing down Georgia’s thigh, the other resting lightly on her shin.
“Well,” Debra said after a pause, “you wouldn’t be the first woman to figure that out a little later than most.”
Georgia’s eyes flicked to hers, a mix of nerves and something else—relief, maybe. Curiosity. Need.
Debra’s gaze was steady. Kind. But there was heat behind it too. Heat, and interest, and something older, wiser… and undeniably female.
“I won’t tell if you don’t,” Debra added with a wink, smoothing her palms up Georgia’s thighs one last time before she slowly stood.
Georgia sat up slightly, lips parted, wanting to say something but not sure what.
Debra looked down at her with that sultry, knowing smile.
“I’ll grab those tomatoes and let you cool off a bit,” she said, voice teasing now, eyes flicking down Georgia’s body once more. “You let me know if you need help with anything else, honey.”
She turned, hips swaying with maddening grace as she disappeared into the house.
And Georgia…
Stayed right where she was.
Heart thudding. Skin tingling.
Still wet, but not from the pool.
Georgia sat on the lounge chair for a minute longer, heart thudding hard against her ribs. The sun no longer warmed her the same way—not compared to the heat radiating from inside her chest. Or between her thighs.
She stood slowly. No towel this time. Just damp, clinging red fabric that left nothing to the imagination. Her hair was still wet, her cheeks flushed, her lips parted as if she’d just been kissed already.
She padded across the deck and through the back door, barefoot and nearly trembling.
The kitchen was quiet. Cool, shaded. And Debra was sitting at the table.
She was in no rush. One leg crossed over the other, her linen shirt slightly more open than before, silver hair tucked behind her ear. A small, teasing smile played at her lips as she sat beside the jars of canned tomatoes Georgia’s mother had set aside.
“Took you long enough, babygirl,” Debra said, voice low and velvet-smooth. Her fingers tapped the wood of the chair. “Come here.”
Georgia hesitated only a second—her breath caught in her throat—then walked forward.
This was different than fooling around in dorm rooms with classmates. Debra was older. Confident. Married to the town’s preacher, for God’s sake. And still, Georgia’s body answered her like it had been waiting for this moment all along.
She stepped between Debra’s knees, her fingers twisting together.
Debra’s hands came to her hips first, firm and steady, pulling her down. “Don’t be shy, now,” she whispered.
Georgia straddled her lap, tucking her legs to the side—her thighs brushing Debra’s, the edge of her bikini damp against Debra’s bare knee. Her skin was flushed, dewy, exposed in all the right places. Debra’s hands slid up her back, warm and confident.
“You’re just as soft as I imagined,” Debra murmured, eyes locked on hers.
Then, without warning, she kissed her.
It was deep and consuming—slow at first, mouths melting together in a lazy, deliberate rhythm. Debra kissed like she had all the time in the world. Her tongue teased the seam of Georgia’s lips before slipping inside, coaxing out a breathy moan.
Georgia melted into it. Her arms slid around Debra’s shoulders, her body pressing close. Her heart pounded, but it wasn’t fear—it was heat. Need.
Debra’s hands roamed—up her spine, then back down, fingertips slipping beneath the damp strings of her bikini top.
She pulled back just enough to whisper, “Let me take this off you, baby.”
Georgia nodded, breathless.
Debra’s fingers moved with expertise, tugging the knot at the back of her neck loose, then slipping the damp triangle of fabric down, baring Georgia’s full, heavy breasts.
“My, my,” Debra drawled, eyes hungry now. “These are somethin’ else.”
Georgia’s cheeks flamed crimson, but she didn’t pull away.
Debra leaned in, her lips brushing across the top of one breast—feather-light, slow, teasing. Her mouth opened slightly as she kissed lower, tongue flicking gently against the sensitive skin. Then she wrapped her lips around Georgia’s nipple, sucking it into the heat of her mouth with aching slowness.
Georgia gasped.
Debra smiled against her skin. “Sensitive, huh?”
Georgia could only nod, fingers digging into Debra’s shoulders, her hips twitching faintly in her lap.
Debra’s voice was like silk and smoke as she trailed kisses lower, across the swell of Georgia’s breast, before returning to the other one, lavishing it with the same attention. “You’re so sweet,” she murmured between kisses. “So responsive. You like bein’ touched like this, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Georgia breathed, barely able to form the word.
Debra looked up at her, eyes dark and knowing. “Good girl.”
Debra’s hands moved with purpose now—strong, certain fingers cupping the weight of Georgia’s bare breasts, thumbs circling the dark, hardened peaks before she gave them each a firm, deliberate pinch.
Georgia cried out, her hips twitching in Debra’s lap, the sudden spike of sensation sending a bolt of heat straight through her belly. Her hands flew to Debra’s head, fingers tangling in silver hair as she held her there, pressing her mouth tighter to her chest.
“God—Debra…”
Debra chuckled low, mouth full of Georgia’s nipple, sucking hard now—hungry, shameless. The sounds echoed off the kitchen tile, wet and unfiltered. She pulled back with a slick pop, her lips glistening.
“Just wait, baby,” she said, voice thick with lust. “I’m going to fucking devouryou.”
Georgia whimpered—soft and wrecked—as Debra’s hands slid down her sides, over her hips, fingers curling under the thin ties of her bikini bottoms.
She tugged them loose, slow and steady, letting the red fabric fall between them, sticky with heat and soaked with want. The moment they slipped down her thighs, Debra’s fingers were there—claiming the slick heat between Georgia’s legs like it was hers.
“Oh fuck,” Georgia gasped, her hips jerking forward, mouth open in shock at how bold—how right—it felt.
Debra’s fingers slid through the soaked folds, teasing, gathering the wetness, then dipping inward just enough to make Georgia cry out again. One finger. Then two. Slow, measured thrusts—like she was mapping every inch, memorizing the feel of her.
“Drippin’ for me already,” Debra purred, watching every flicker of pleasure in Georgia’s face. “Look at you. So needy. So wet.”
Georgia bit her lip hard, trying to quiet the sounds clawing up her throat—but Debra’s fingers twisted just right, brushing against that pulsing spot inside her, and she couldn’t hold back the moan that followed.
Debra grinned, dark and full of power. “You’re so tight, baby girl. So fuckin’ soft.”
Her free hand came up again, cupping Georgia’s breast, fingers still slick from her mouth. She rolled her nipple between two fingers while her other hand worked lower—deep, then shallow, then slow again, keeping Georgia on the edge, rocking her rhythm until Georgia’s thighs were trembling on either side of her lap.
“You ever been touched like this before?” Debra asked, low and rough.
Georgia shook her head, barely able to breathe. “Not like this—God—not like this.”
Debra kissed her then—deep and claiming, tongue tasting every breath of Georgia’s moan as she pushed her fingers deeper, curling just enough to make the younger woman shudder against her.
And then she pulled away again, eyes locked on hers. “You’re not gonna forget this,” she whispered. “I’m gonna make you come so hard, you’ll still feel it in church next Sunday.”
Georgia gasped—half laugh, half sob—and melted into her lap, legs open, body bare, utterly at Debra’s mercy.
Debra’s mouth was hot against Georgia’s neck now, teeth grazing sensitive skin as her fingers worked deep between her legs, slow and deliberate. Georgia’s hips rolled helplessly in her lap, her breath ragged, chest heaving—her body on the verge of something wild.
Debra pulled back just enough to watch her, her eyes dark with hunger. “Keep those gorgeous legs spread for me, babygirl,” she growled, voice thick and molten. “Watch my fingers fuck you.”
Georgia looked down through heavy lashes, barely able to focus—but she did. And what she saw made her moan.
Debra’s fingers disappeared inside her over and over, soaked and glistening, the slick, obscene sounds of her arousal filling the warm hush of the kitchen. It was filthy and raw and so goddamn good.
“God—Debra—fuck—” Georgia’s voice cracked, pleasure ripping through her in waves.
Debra laughed low, devilish. “That’s it,” she murmured, her other hand sliding down, finding the swollen bundle of nerves at the apex of Georgia’s slick folds. She rubbed it with feather-light circles at first—just enough to make Georgia writhe.
Then harder. Faster.
The change hit her like a lightning strike.
Georgia’s head fell back, her spine arching. “Oh my God—”
“Right here,” Debra whispered into her ear. “That’s it, Georgia. Come. Come right fucking now. Let me see how this beautiful pussy opens for me.”
Georgia shattered.
The orgasm hit like a crash—full-body, soul-deep. Her thighs shook violently, clamping around Debra’s wrist as her cries echoed off the tile walls, raw and unfiltered. Her body convulsed in waves, every nerve alight, every thought gone but sensation.
Debra held her through it, never letting up. Her fingers moved just enough to draw every pulse out, to make her ride it, ride her, until Georgia slumped in her lap—gasping, twitching, wet everywhere, utterly undone.
Debra kissed the side of her neck, slow and proud. “That’s my girl,” she whispered, lips brushing Georgia’s skin. “And we’re just gettin’ started.”
Georgia barely had time to catch her breath before Debra was standing again, her hands gripping beneath Georgia’s thighs.
“C’mere, sugar,” she murmured, voice low and wicked. “I want to see you laid out like a feast.”
She lifted Georgia effortlessly—despite her trembling, boneless limbs—and set her down on the cool surface of the kitchen table, right beside the jars of tomatoes. Georgia gasped at the contrast of temperature against her flushed skin, her back arching as Debra stepped between her legs, spreading them wide.
“Look at you,” Debra whispered, eyes trailing up and down the glistening mess between Georgia’s thighs. “Laid out for me like a good girl. That sweet little pussy still twitching for me.”
Georgia whimpered, her hands gripping the edge of the table.
Then Debra lowered herself, slow and deliberate, placing a kiss just above Georgia’s mound—soft, reverent—before dragging her tongue through the soaked, swollen heat of her folds.
Georgia cried out, loud and broken. Her hands flew to Debra’s silver-streaked hair, holding her there, anchoring her.
“Oh—fuck, Debra—please…”
Debra moaned against her, tongue flicking over her clit in slow, torturous strokes before diving lower, tasting everything. Her mouth was greedy, wet, relentless. She sucked Georgia’s clit into her mouth and hummed, like she was savoring a favorite candy.
“You taste like heaven, girl,” she murmured between licks, voice thick with lust. “Like peaches and sin.”
Georgia writhed, legs draped over Debra’s shoulders, her body trembling. “Don’t stop,” she begged, voice ragged, desperate. “Please don’t stop.”
Debra grinned against her, then gave her a firm, wet suck that made Georgia jolt. “Oh, I’m not stopping, baby. Not till you’re crying for me.”
She dipped two fingers back inside her as her mouth worked fast and focused, flicking over Georgia’s clit with merciless precision. The slick sounds of her tongue, the wet glide of her fingers, and Georgia’s frantic moans filled the kitchen like music.
“Such a messy girl,” Debra teased, lips dragging against her slick folds. “Drippin’ down the table for me. Beggin’ for more. I love how filthy you get for me.”
Georgia was beyond words now—her back arching off the table, her hips bucking against Debra’s mouth, helpless and wrecked. She sobbed her pleasure, fingers tangled in silver strands, holding Debra’s face right where she needed her.
“Oh God—Debra—yes—yes, right there—”
Debra growled, low and hungry, and pushed her tongue deeper, grinding the heel of her palm against Georgia’s clit until Georgia screamed—thighs clamping around her head as another violent orgasm ripped through her.
She came hard, shuddering, pulsing around Debra’s fingers, soaking her mouth, her hand, the fucking table.
Debra didn’t stop until Georgia was crying her name.
Then finally, finally, she rose—lips slick and glistening, eyes dark and glowing.
Debra’s palm landed with a sharp slap between Georgia’s legs—right on her overstimulated clit.
Georgia yelped, hips jerking as pleasure twisted into something sharper, more electric. She stared up at Debra with wide, desperate eyes.
Debra just laughed—a rich, husky sound as she cupped Georgia’s flushed cheek. “You’re so damn sensitive, baby,” she teased, dragging her thumb down Georgia’s trembling jaw. “And we’re just getting started.”
She stood tall, confidence radiating from every inch of her bare skin. “Take my clothes off,” she ordered gently, voice dipping low. “Nice and slow.”
Georgia rose, her body still shaking from the waves Debra had pulled from her. She stepped in close, hands reaching for the buttons of Debra’s breezy linen shirt. Her fingers trembled as she undid each one, revealing warm, tanned skin inch by inch. She bent to kiss every part she exposed—first the hollow of Debra’s throat, then down between her breasts, where a light sheen of heat had gathered.
The shirt slipped off her shoulders like water, revealing full, heavy breasts tipped with dusky nipples already peaked. Georgia’s mouth found them without hesitation—kissing, then sucking, her tongue swirling around each one as her hands roamed the curves of Debra’s waist, hips, thighs.
Debra sighed, head falling back, fingers threading into Georgia’s damp hair.
“That’s it,” she whispered, voice full of heat and approval. “Such a good girl… those sweet little lips were made for this.”
Georgia’s hands moved to the clasp of Debra’s shorts, easing them down over long, golden legs, dropping to her knees as she peeled away every last stitch. She kissed the inside of her thighs, slow and reverent, her breath ghosting over heated, bare skin.
Debra stepped back, completely naked now—proud and unapologetic. Her body was a work of art: tall, graceful, soft where it should be, strong where it mattered. She sank into the kitchen chair, spreading her legs with casual authority, one arm draped over the back, the other hand resting lazily on her thigh.
Her eyes were half-lidded, gaze fixed on Georgia with pure, carnal command.
“Lick me,” Debra said, voice low and hoarse. “Put that sweet young mouth on my pussy, baby.”
Georgia rose slowly onto her knees, her hands caressing up Debra’s parted thighs—fingertips grazing hot, smooth skin until her mouth hovered just above the soaked center of her.
She looked up, lips parted, waiting. Debra met her gaze, one hand already curling into her hair, the silver strands slipping through her fingers like thread.
“Well,” Debra murmured, voice thick with anticipation. “Don’t make me beg, sugar.”
Georgia leaned in—and gave her a long, slow lick from bottom to top.
Debra’s hips twitched instantly. Her head fell back with a gasp, fingers gripping tighter in Georgia’s hair.
“That’s it,” she groaned. “Just like that.”
Georgia licked again—slower, deeper this time, her tongue sliding through the slick heat, savoring the taste. Debra was soaked, trembling, and so responsive her thighs kept fluttering on either side of Georgia’s face. She began to circle her tongue, teasing the sensitive nub, flicking and stroking with deliberate pressure.
Debra’s breath turned ragged. “Yes,” she moaned, louder this time. “Lick my pussy, girl. Don’t stop.”
Georgia obeyed, her mouth working in tight, focused strokes—tongue curling, lapping, pushing deeper, drinking her in. She brought her fingers up now, sliding two into Debra’s heat with ease, curling them inside as her tongue moved faster, hungrily.
Debra cried out, her thighs snapping around Georgia’s head, her voice breaking into raw pleasure. “So good,” she gasped. “So fucking good. Good job, baby girl.”
Her hips rolled against Georgia’s mouth now, chasing each stroke, each thrust. She clutched the back of Georgia’s head, riding the waves, controlling the pace—but it wasn’t long before her control started to fray.
Georgia sucked gently, tongue flattening against her clit, flicking with skill and purpose. Her fingers pumped deeper, stroking perfectly, relentlessly.
Debra’s voice was a stream of praises and curses, lost in the rhythm.
“Yes—yes—just like that,” she cried, her grip in Georgia’s hair tightening. “Make me come. Make me fucking come, baby—”
And then she did.
Debra’s whole body seized, thighs trembling violently, back arching in the chair. She let out a deep, broken cry, hips jerking against Georgia’s face as she came hard, soaking her fingers, her mouth. She shook, gasping, moaning through it all, and Georgia held on—tongue still moving gently, drawing every last tremor from her.
When it passed, Debra slumped into the chair, flushed and gleaming, her chest rising and falling in deep, satisfied waves. Her fingers loosened in Georgia’s hair, and she gave her a soft tug upward.
Georgia rose, lips swollen, chin glistening.
Debra pulled her in for a kiss—slow, dirty, sweet.
“Told you,” she whispered against her mouth. “That sweet mouth was made for me.”
Debra was still basking—legs spread, chest flushed, body humming—when Georgia pulled back just far enough to speak.
Her voice was breathless, low, and suddenly charged with something deeper.
“I’m not done yet,” she said. Her eyes gleamed with wicked intent. “Sit back down.”
Debra blinked—then grinned, dark and surprised. “Well damn,” she chuckled. “Look who’s grown herself a spine.”
But she obeyed.
She sank back into the chair, her thighs still trembling, body wide open and glistening. Georgia dropped to her knees again with purpose this time, grabbing Debra’s hips to pull her closer to the edge of the seat.
And then she went in—no hesitation.
Her tongue flicked hard over Debra’s clit, sucking it between her lips with feverish hunger. Her fingers thrust in deeper than before—fast, curling, relentless. Her mouth was all heat and suction and messy, greedy need.
“Oh fuck,” Debra gasped, instantly arching into it. “Oh God, baby—yes, yes—eat that pussy, just like that—”
Georgia moaned against her, the vibrations making Debra’s breath stutter.
“Such a filthy little thing,” Debra growled, her voice unraveling. “You just can’t stop, can you? So fuckin’ hungry—God, you’re good.”
Her head fell back, one hand clawing at the table edge, the other tangled hard in Georgia’s dark hair.
Then—
The phone rang.
The sound was shrill, slicing through the fog of sex and sweat.
Debra cursed under her breath and snatched it from the table, glancing at the screen. Her expression shifted instantly.
“It’s your mama,” she hissed.
Georgia didn’t stop.
She only smirked—and sucked harder.
Debra gasped—then hit “Answer.”
“H-hello?” she said, trying to steady her voice. “Hey, Brenda.”
Georgia’s fingers slid deeper, hooking now. Her tongue was merciless, swirling fast and tight over Debra’s swollen clit.
“Oh good,” Brenda said brightly on the other end. “Just making sure you got in okay! I left those tomatoes on the counter for you.”
Debra’s voice cracked. “Yes—I—I got them,” she managed, forcing a smile into her tone. “Georgia’s been very… helpful.”
Georgia nearly laughed against her—but didn’t stop. Instead, she curled her fingers just right and pressed, and Debra’s hips shot off the chair.
“Oh!—uh, nothing,” Debra stammered into the phone, her face twisted in pleasure. “Just—tripped over the dog bowl.”
Georgia doubled down, sucking her clit hard and fast, her fingers pounding into her with precision.
Debra’s breath hitched. Her legs quivered again.
“She’s such a good girl,” she rasped into the phone, voice shaking now, her free hand fisting tight in Georgia’s hair. “Always eager to… lend a hand.”
And then Georgia curled her fingers just right again—and Debra’s body snapped.
Her mouth fell open in a silent scream. Her thighs clamped around Georgia’s head, her toes curled, and her whole body pulsed with the force of the orgasm. Georgia didn’t stop. Not for a second. She fucked her right through it—eyes locked on her, drinking in every twitch and tremble.
On the other end of the line, Brenda chatted on—blissfully unaware.
Debra choked out a polite goodbye as she slammed the phone down with shaking fingers, then collapsed back in the chair, gasping for breath, drenched in sweat and satisfaction.
Georgia rose slowly, licking her lips, mouth and chin slick with Debra’s release.
Debra stared at her, dazed and breathless.
“You,” she whispered, voice hoarse, “are a fucking menace.”
Georgia just grinned.
“I know.”
Debra sat there for a moment—legs still parted, chest rising and falling in shallow waves, her body still twitching in the aftermath.
Finally, she blew out a breath and let her head fall back with a grin.
“We should clean up,” she said, voice low and lazy.
Georgia stood in front of her, bare and glistening, lips swollen from use, her skin glowing. She reached for Debra’s hands and helped her up with a sweet smile.
“Come on,” she whispered, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to Debra’s collarbone.
They kissed again—softer now, deeper. No rush. Just the taste of each other lingering between them. Debra’s hands trailed down Georgia’s hips as they moved through the house, skin to skin, warmth radiating between their bodies.
Upstairs, the bathroom filled with steam as hot water poured from the showerhead, the tile already fogging around the edges of the mirror. Georgia stepped in first, the water soaking her hair, trailing down her curves. Debra followed close behind, their bodies brushing under the cascade.
They began to wash each other in slow, reverent motions—Georgia lathering shampoo into Debra’s silver hair, her fingers massaging gently into her scalp. Debra hummed with pleasure, leaning into the touch. She returned the favor, running her fingers through Georgia’s raven-dark locks, tilting her head back under the spray, kissing her neck as she rinsed her clean.
Their lips met again, slippery and warm, tongues moving lazily as water streamed around them. Their hands roamed—over wet skin, soft bellies, firm hips. There was nothing hurried now. Just exploration. Intimacy. Craving without urgency.
Debra pulled Georgia close, one hand resting on the small of her back, the other between her shoulder blades.
“You know,” she murmured against Georgia’s ear, “it was so hot, lying to your mama on the phone…”
Georgia let out a quiet moan, biting her bottom lip.
Debra’s hand slipped down, sliding over the curve of Georgia’s ass.
“Telling her you were ‘helpful’ while your mouth was buried in my pussy?” Debra whispered. “God, that nearly made me come again.”
Georgia flushed, her thighs pressing together instinctively.
Debra smiled, pulling her closer, her voice darker now, slick with filth and sugar.
“And now here we are… in her shower,” she murmured. “Where her sweet little girl is about to get fucked so dirty, she won’t be able to look her mama in the eye at breakfast.”
Georgia whimpered, her whole body melting under those words. Her nails dug into Debra’s arms as she kissed her—hard, needy.
Debra groaned into her mouth, backing her against the warm tile.
“Let’s see how loud I can make you cry my name,” she whispered. “Bet the water won’t be enough to drown you out.”
The hot water poured in steady sheets around them, mist rising and curling through the tight space. Georgia leaned back against the tiled wall, her eyes half-lidded, skin slick and pink from heat and arousal. Debra stepped in close, her body pressed lightly to Georgia’s as she reached for the detachable shower head.
She twisted the dial.
The spray changed—stronger now, pulsing.
Georgia’s breath hitched.
Debra raised it slowly, teasing first—letting the warm water dance over Georgia’s collarbone, then lower, circling her breasts. She held it steady as the jet caught one nipple directly, making it tighten instantly to a hard, aching point.
Georgia gasped, moaning loud and raw.
Debra grinned, eyes locked on her chest. “So sensitive,” she drawled, voice syrup-sweet and dirty as sin. “Little baby tits bouncin’ like they’re beggin’ for attention.”
She moved the spray to the other nipple, watching Georgia twitch and squirm.
“You like that, don’t you?” she purred. “Lettin’ me spray these pretty tits like they’re mine.”
Georgia nodded helplessly, fingers clawing at the tile behind her. “Yes… oh my God, yes…”
Debra brought the water lower—trailing it down Georgia’s belly, her hips, teasing slow circles over her inner thighs until Georgia was shaking again.
Then—without warning—she aimed it between her legs.
The jet hit Georgia’s soaked pussy, and her whole body jolted with it.
“Ahh—fuck!” she cried, her back arching off the wall, hips bucking toward the pressure.
Debra laughed low, dark and satisfied. “There she is. My dirty little peach.”
She circled the stream over Georgia’s clit, watching her unravel again. “You’re just so easy to break open, ain’t you?” she whispered, licking at Georgia’s neck. “One little touch and you’re cryin’ for it.”
Georgia moaned louder, thighs trembling.
Debra reached around and gave her ass a firm, wet spank. The smack echoed in the shower, sharp and filthy.
Georgia whimpered, collapsing further into the wall, her legs quivering.
“Mmm,” Debra growled. “That perfect full ass just asks to be smacked, doesn’t it, baby girl? Look at it. All pink and soft and jigglin’.”
She spanked her again—harder this time—then brought the spray back to Georgia’s clit, tighter now, crueler.
Georgia writhed under it, moaning wildly.
“You’re such a needy little thing,” Debra whispered. “My sweet baby slut. Mama’s pretty little whore.”
Her voice dripped Southern velvet even as her words made Georgia flush from head to toe.
“You like when I talk dirty to you, huh?” Debra purred. “You like bein’ my filthy little secret while my husband is at church.
Georgia couldn’t answer. Her head was thrown back, mouth open, panting, her hands digging into Debra’s arms as the pressure and heat sent her climbing fast.
“Come for me again,” Debra ordered, dragging the spray slow and tight over her clit. “Come for your dirty southern mama. Let me see you fall apart all over again.”
And Georgia did—shaking, crying out, water streaming down her body as she came hard, her hips bucking, thighs seizing, mouth open in a silent scream as Debra held her in place and watched every second of it.
Georgia was still trembling, her body slick with heat and water and release. Her head lolled against the tile wall, eyes fluttering closed, chest heaving as the waves of orgasm rolled through her.
But Debra wasn’t done.
Not even close.
“Mmm-mm,” she purred, dragging the showerhead away just long enough to let Georgia breathe—only to bring it back between her thighs and press it right back onto her overstimulated clit.
Georgia shrieked, her whole body jerking as her hips tried to twist away—but Debra held her firmly in place, gripping her hip with one hand, the other holding the pulsing stream steady against her most sensitive spot.
“Oh no, baby girl,” Debra cooed, her voice almost tender, her words anything but. “You don’t get to run now.”
“Please—” Georgia gasped, her thighs twitching, her breath coming in ragged sobs of pleasure. “It’s—it’s too much—”
Debra leaned in, lips brushing her ear.
“Too much?” she mocked sweetly. “You weren’t sayin’ that when you were grindin’ that needy little pussy all over my mouth downstairs.”
She kissed Georgia’s neck, hard and wet. “You came like a fuckin’ fountain all over my face, and now you wanna quit?”
Another sharp spank landed across Georgia’s soaked, bouncing ass.
“Answer me,” Debra demanded. “Whose pussy is this now?”
Georgia whimpered, shaking her head in overwhelmed bliss. Her fingers dug into Debra’s arms, desperate, her whole body on the brink again.
Debra pulled her hair back gently, forcing her to meet her gaze, eyes blazing.
“Say it,” she growled. “Say it, baby. Scream it for me.”
“Yours!” Georgia cried out, voice raw and soaked in surrender. “It’s yours, Debra—fuck—it’s your pussy—yours!”
Debra moaned like she’d just taken a drag of something illegal.
“Damn right it is,” she hissed, dragging the spray up and down Georgia’s folds, never giving her a second of peace. “This messy, pretty little thing belongs to me now.”
Georgia came again—loud, shuddering, helpless. Her body locked up, her thighs clenched around the stream, and she cried out Debra’s name, hoarse and broken, as wave after wave wracked her soaked frame.
Debra kissed her hard—swallowing every noise, owning every tremble.
When Georgia finally sagged into her, boneless and shaking, Debra held her up, the water now cascading over both their bodies.
She smirked and whispered, “And don’t you forget it, baby girl. We’re just gettin’ started.”
