Hot Moments

poolside lesbian estate

NB:Lesbian Story. If not interested skip it

Chapter two (The End)

INTRO: Women enjoy Leila’s body at the property showing.

"How long have you been with this firm?" she asks.

"Almost my entire career. My father does a lot of work with Marielle and a few strings were pulled, so here I am."

Being the product of nepotism is often uncomfortable for me because it implies that I don't work hard. The reality is that I work harder than most people my age and I hope Svetlana sees that. She doesn't seem to judge me, she just gives a gentle, "Ahh,' in response. I'm sure in her world she understands how important connections are.

"You're good at this, your hands, I mean. Have you done it before?"

"No, you're literally the first," I say.

As tired as my hands are becoming, a genuine compliment from a commanding woman like Svetlana reinvigorates me and I squeeze a little harder on the tense spots in her neck and shoulder. Her compliment pushes away the shame of other women seeing this happen.

"I'm not wearing a bra under my blazer jacket. Do you mind, girl?"

From my vantage point behind her, I look at her face, wondering if she means what I think she means. She appears casual, serious, her eyes still focus on her toes in the water and my feet next to hers.

"Are you sure?" I ask.

"Nipples don't bite."

Her comment sends a tingle between my legs. Nipples? Did she really just say that? There are a few women around the pool, some gossiping amongst themselves with a drink in hand, some taking an inspection of the property, a few glances in this direction. I can see Henning inside the property, working her magic to potential buyers.

I'd be mortified to be seen with my hand there, but I refuse to disappoint a respectable woman, much less a friend of Henning.

My hand slips beneath her thin blazer. She's right, no bra. My head rests against her back in a tender way because it's better than having to look at other women while I'm doing this. My hand drifts lower, her breast is so soft, I can tell they sag at her age. They're not firm or perky like mine.

That's not an insult, by the way, I happen to love the appearance of mature women and I adore them. I just never thought I'd be touching a boob in a professional setting.

It's euphoric when my finger grazes across her nipple. A touch at first. Then I'm enveloped in a whirlwind of sensations, a mixture of public humiliation and sexual perversion. It's a mindfuck of a combination, to be honest. As my finger lingers, a charged tension hangs in the air, like the hushed anticipation before a storm. And there most certainly is a storm brewing. Women like Svetlana always expect the finest treatment.

Her nipple is like a small raspberry in terms of shape and texture. I could look over and peer at her breasts if I wanted to, but I don't want to be rude. I wasn't given permission to look. I can imagine the color, she looks like a white woman with a bright pink nipple, maybe even a little red. It makes me wet to think about, and to feel her nipple between my fingers, this time I don't care if my wetness touches her clothes and leaves a stain. If I leave a wet mark on her, that's her fault.

"Shame we've never met until now," she says. "Marielle must have been hiding you."

"Newbie status, you know? I'm still climbing the ladder."

"You're the secret weapon."

Her compliment emboldens me and I rub her nipple a little harder, pinch it, twirl it between my fingers. It makes her moan, which she doesn't bother to hide.