It had been a warm afternoon. The sun had shone all the time and the wine had been consumed in quantities. Combined with the heat, it had stirred Jane's body with a vague awareness, a pleasant feeling of sexual desire. A slight ache which craved pacifying, though there was no hurry. Among the meaningless chatter of guests, the distant laughter, Jane started to think about her younger days when she would relieve her aching loins with deft fingers.
Memories of lying in the sun, holding her soft, plump genitals, squeezing them gently until the honey began to flow. Rubbing, probing with her index finger, exploring her own secret folds of responsive, supple flesh. Teasing her bud of delight, marveling at the ripples of lust surging through her in waves, building slowly to a pinnacle of overwhelming hunger for release. Holding back the climax until she could bear it no longer.
Her orgasms would rip through her like a great wave crashing over her. Smiling ruefully at the memory of those frequent, private occasions, she wondered what her guests would say if they knew what was in her mind. When everyone had gone, perhaps she would again lie in the sun - fondle herself once more, recalling earlier sexual encounters, flooding her vagina with sex juices. Yes, that would be nice. She began to look forward to it.
It was now early evening, still very warm with the terrace reflecting the heat of the earlier sun beating down on it. All the others had left. Her husband had gone down to the club with his friends. Only Susan, the neighbour's nineteen-year old daughter was left. An attractive girl. Jane poured her a glass of red wine. She wouldn't stay long. Then Jane could enjoy the treat she had promised herself.
'May as well have the rest of this bottle,' she said, holding out the glass to the young woman.
Susan smiled as he took the glass from her, little realising that Jane was quietly simmering with a deep-seated lust, waiting patiently for the time when she could be alone, to indulge herself. To relive moments of lecherousness as she searched her genitals for their moment of glory.
'I'll help you tidy up.'
'You're very kind Susan. What it is to have kind, useful neighbours. Cheers!'
They drank to each other with a mutual smile.
'I don't suppose mum and dad'll be back for a while yet.'
They looked at each other for a few moments as they sipped their wine. Now in her fifties, Jane had no expectation of a sexual encounter, though thoughts and memories of past physical enjoyment came to mind from time to time. Particularly after a few glasses of wine, her mind would dwell on the more exciting aspects of her sex. And this was one of those occasions. There was a feeling of unease inside her. Yes! A slight ache, which troubled her.
Her mind was fixed on sex. Jane had never been a passionate lover, her enjoyment of the act being more calculated - more sensuous - more delightful. Her orgasms were always well controlled and thoroughly sublime. She preferred a partner of similar deliberations in his approach to love making, rather than one who rushed to his own climax. There had been several in her life. Her husband, though, usually - but not always if her fantasies during sex were particularly thrilling - fell short of her needs, which frequently gave rise to her necessity for careful and calculated masturbation to reach a climax.
She looked quizzically at Susan, wondering if she masturbated. But of course she did. Everyone does, don't they? Jane's sexual needs had faded over recent years, though she still enjoyed the occasional relaxing hour on a warm summer's day, lying naked in her secluded garden, fondling her genitals all over with both hands, carefully spreading the seeping honey across the soft folds, coaxing them to a long drawn out, satisfying orgasm.
It always amazed Jane that every orgasm came upon her as a completely new surprise, a fresh experience, jerking her loins in joyful exhilaration. What a marvellous instrument the body is. The result was always a feeling of contentment as she lay there, eyes closed, her hand cupping the soft, warm vulva, the epicentre of her spiritual being.
As she looked at Susan, she found herself speculating on the sort of a genitals her young friend had, and how frequently she masturbated. Did she do it as often as Jane did in her youth, she wondered? Susan didn't have a boyfriend so far as Jane knew. She wondered why. Perhaps she preferred other girls?
Jane broke the silence. 'Beautiful evening.'
'Still warm enough to sunbathe,' Susan replied.
'Oh, be my guest. I shall be on my own for quite a while yet. Why not stay a little longer? Get your kit off. Enjoy the sun. I shall enjoy your company.' she smiled at her as she put her wine glass on the table.
'Thank you.'
And Susan quickly slipped out of her blouse and skirt before lying on one of the loungers facing the sun, wearing a skimpy bra and a lace thong. Although not very tall, her long legs were a pleasant tan colour. Her breasts were smallish, the dark nipples showing clearly through the bra. From either side of the thong, Jane saw the tufts of dark pubic hair. She found it erotic and was strangely excited by a glimpse of another woman's private fleece, still wondering what her labia were like. Little did she know what surprise was in store for her.
Jane laughed. 'May as well join you,' and shrugged her light top from her shoulders and unbuckled her skirt, allowing it fall to he ground. Her bra was rather more modest than Susan's, though her ample breasts were bulging from the top. In the warmth of the summer, Jane usually wore French knickers, trimmed with silk lace. They were more comfortable. The the loose gusset allowed her heavy growth of auburn hair to be clearly evident.
Susan looked across at Jane. 'Mmm! You look good, Jane.'