The terrace sits empty under the Provençal stars. Party’s dying down. Heat clings like sweat on skin. Everyone laughs inside except me. Fifty-three, freshly dumped by my cheating prick of a husband. Smiles don’t come easy. Laura, my bubbly colleague, dragged me here to ‘change my mood.’ Now I regret it. Surrounded by her young friends—could be my kids. Sweet, though. First time post-split, I picked this short dress. Sexy. Tanned legs. Lace panties and bra underneath. No one’s peeking tonight.
Lost in bitter thoughts, her hand grazes my bare shoulder. I jolt.
The Awakening: Heat Rises on the Terrace
‘You good?’
‘Yeah.’
Her emerald eyes pierce me. Knows my shit. Squeezes my elbow.
‘Promise no sneaking out?’
‘Promise.’
Genuine smile, then she’s gone, swept by a thirsty guest.
I watch her glide through the crowd. Early thirties, joined the office two years back. Clicked fast despite the age chasm. Her invite shocked me—outside work? Our gazes lock. Electric pull. She’s out and proud lesbian. Drops Ingrid’s name casually. Me? One clumsy neighbor grope, shut down quick. Ex fantasized threesomes. Bet with his new slut.
Laura breezes by, tray in hand. ‘Beautiful when you smile.’
‘Thanks.’
Her ass sways under that loose dress. Fuck, would I have said yes to a threesome with her lookalike? Too young. My own daughter’s age. Laugh alone at the filth in my head.
Second mojito melts the edges. Time slips—2 AM. Spot her alone on the terrace, phone glowing.
‘Thanks for the night.’
‘Leaving?’
‘Past two!’
‘No work tomorrow. Stay. Guest room’s huge.’
‘No clothes.’
‘One night, not a week.’
Eyes lock. I cave. She beams, lips brush mine—close. Shiver rips through.
‘Awesome! Airing it now.’
Last guest bolts at three. Just us in the rattan couch’s shadows. Silence hums.
‘Confession? Favorite colleague.’
I snort.
‘You got killer charm. Eyes. Smile. The rest…’
‘Rest?’
‘Want a sketch?’
Kid-like giggle. Pauses. ‘Room time?’
Follow close. Lanterns flicker on stone house. She spins—soft kiss. Pulls back.
‘Sorry.’
‘For?’
‘Freaking you.’
The Act and Secret: Cumming Hard, Keeping Quiet
‘Didn’t.’
Closer. Fingers brush. Lips press harder. Tiny moan escapes. She smiles against me.
‘Really?’
‘Really.’
Tongues clash. Hungry. Breasts mash. Grips my mouth, drags me to moonlit room. Pushes me down. Devours.
Hand snakes thigh. Under dress hem.
‘Want it bad as me?’
‘Yes…’
Fingers hit lace. Soaked.
‘Fuck, dripping for it.’
Nervous laughs. Teases pussy lips. ‘Dreamed of this body months.’
Unbuttons dress. Palms heavy tits in lace.
‘Love that black tee hugging these. Heart one. Jeans too—sexy as hell.’
Nipples peak. She sucks. Tongue swirls. Hand dives between thighs. Panties aside. Fingers dance clit.
Buck wild. New fire. Pussy throbs.
‘First time?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Love it?’
‘Fuck yes.’
Licks tits slow. Fingers grind pearl. Legs spread. Shame burns—I’m gushing.
‘Ahhh.’
Two fingers circle clit. I thrash. Animal.
‘Lemme make you cum.’
‘Yes—fuck, make me cum!’
Explode. Legs clamp hand. Pussy spasms endless. Squirt floods. Scream rips out.
She curls beside. Sweat-slick. Kiss deep. Tits rub electric. Rolls atop. Pussies slap wet. Grind hard. Her bush tangles mine. Juices mix.
Naked now—panties flung. Fucks my thigh. Bed creaks frantic.
‘Gonna cum…’
Me first—shatter again. She tenses, howls, collapses.
Panting. Entwined. Heat forgotten. Drift off.
Dawn creeps. Secret sealed. Monday, just colleagues. But I crave more. The thrill of the unspeakable—mine forever.