The Love of Older Women

Rebecca answers the knock still holding her breath. Young. That word slams her chest. Jennifer's barely-legal face stares up from the doorstep, soft mouth chewing a grin like she already owns the place. Coffee cup rattling in Rebecca's fingers, she pulls the girl inside before the neighbors can see. "I lied on the app," Jennifer says, voice sugar and razor wire. "I'm nineteen, not twenty-three. Wanted the grown women. Wanted you." Rebecca backs into the kitchen counter. Heat roars behind her ears. She tries to stay pissed but the kid's eyes keep dropping to her mouth, testing, daring. One step forward and Jennifer's fingers slip under Rebecca's loose shirt, finding bare skin, tracing the top of her hip like she's reading a map to trouble. "I should throw you out," Rebecca whispers, already wet. "But you won't," Jennifer answers, and kisses her hard enough to shut the rest down. Rebecca lifts the girl onto the table, shoves plates aside, yanks Jennifer's jeans open. She slides two fingers straight into slick heat, curls, works them until Jennifer moans and bucks. The younger body clenches, tight, burning. Rebecca adds her tongue, fucks her deep and slow then fast, face slick, chin dripping. Jennifer comes biting her own wrist, thighs shaking around Rebecca's head. When she can breathe again, Jennifer pushes Rebecca back into the chair, kneels between her legs and returns the favor, licking and sucking until Rebecca grips the table edge and swears, hips jerking, coming so hard she nearly knocks the cold coffee over.