The Yard Bird

Staci is short on cash for college. Most girls her age coast on their parents’ money, but she shows up at Ms. DeVille’s door ready to hustle. Cherie hands her a list of yard jobs, and Staci knocks them out until sweat streaks the dirt on her skin and her muscles ache. Impressed, Cherie tacks on a bonus she never planned to give. The bath is already drawn, steam curling in thick ribbons. Cherie leads her down the hall. “You need this more than I do,” she says, pulling Staci’s shirt over damp shoulders. Staci protests; Cherie keeps undressing her with cool, practiced hands. “I’ve seen plenty of girls your age—my daughter’s one of them.” Warm water closes over Staci’s body. Cherie’s fingertips trace soap down every curve, praising the lift of young breasts, the tight slope of stomach, the ambition that drives them both. Staci’s guard slips. A soft, flirty whimper escapes when Cherie’s mouth finds hers. The kiss deepens, slow and sure. Fingers glide between parted thighs, stroking until the first clean jolt of pleasure shocks through Staci and leaves her panting. Cherie lingers, coaxing a second, fuller orgasm that rolls under the water in heavy, rhythmic pulses. When the tide turns, she guides Staci’s trembling hand. “Light touches first,” she whispers. Staci obeys, tracing faint circles over Cherie’s nipples, the inside of her thighs, the slick seam between her legs. Tongue follows fingers—soft laps, teasing pressure—until Cherie’s breathing breaks and she comes hard against the girl’s mouth, flooding her lips and chin with heat.