Not A Summer Fling

Lily spent every summer with Clarissa back when she was too young to know what she wanted. Those afternoons by the pool when she'd swim right up to the edge and watch her mom's best friend sunbathe naked, Lily felt something twist deep in her gut. Now she's twenty-two and she's got hips that swing when she walks. She's got the word tattooed across her ribs - FUCK ME - in case Clarissa needs reminding. The day Lily arrives she doesn't even unpack. Just drops her bag and presses Clarissa back against the kitchen counter, tongue hot and greedy in the older woman's mouth. Clarissa's hands find Lily's breasts through that thin white tank top, nipples already hard, begging. They fuck right there on the floor. Lily pulls Clarissa's dress up over her hips and buries her face between her legs like she's starving, licking and sucking until Clarissa's thighs shake. She makes Clarissa come so hard her voice breaks. Lily doesn't stop. She shoves two fingers inside while her mouth works that swollen clit, stretching her, filling her, feeling those velvet walls clench and pulse. Later Lily bends Clarissa over the dining table, spreads her wide, slides three fingers in while she works her thumb against Clarissa's asshole in slow circles. Clarissa pushes back against every thrust, greedy for more. She begs Lily to fuck her harder and Lily obliges, hips snapping, wrist twisting, until Clarissa's legs buckle. They end up on the couch with Clarissa on top, riding Lily's hand like she needs it to breathe. Lily watches every expression cross her face - mouth slack, eyes half-closed - until she breaks apart with a strangled moan. Lily fingers her through it and then flips Clarissa onto her back, burying her face between her legs again for the second round. This summer there's no pretending. Lily takes what she wants and Clarissa gives it all.