It was the first day of a mid-week real estate conference in Myrtle Beach. The theme for the conference was female ownership. Cary had been the boss for five years now, ever since Mark left her a widow.

Despite the all-woman population in attendance, Cary felt the need, the urge, for a sexual encounter. While married, she had never given a thought to being with another woman, but now, at 63, with a fit body, shapely legs, and D cup boobs, she found women who exuded confidence very sexy. She also fondly remembered her one F2F experience a few months back with Diane, before inviting Diane’s husband to join them in an FFM.

Cary surveyed the crowd at check-in and found a number of the women aroused her, but finding one who shares the same hidden desires is tricky. At the two main presentations and again at dinner, she spoke with several women she could see being intimate with, but the right vibe just wasn’t there.

…

Now back in the room, she found herself alone, wanting. The ocean murmured in the distance through the cracked balcony door, the rhythmic hush of the surf echoing the pulse humming just beneath Cary’s skin.

But solitude didn’t feel like peace tonight. It felt like tension. An ache. An electric hum simmering beneath the surface of her skin, ignited by the sight of confident, sexy women brushing past her all day in skirts, heels, and plunging blouses. The kind of effortless sensuality that had stirred something in her. Something specific.

She stood before the mirror, slipping the last of her clothes off, her blouse drifting to the carpet like falling petals, followed by her bra, and then the black lace panties that clung to her curves a beat too long.

Naked now, she moved across the room and lowered herself onto the edge of the bed.

Her laptop sat closed on the desk, but she already knew what she wanted. She opened it, logged in, and navigated quickly and without hesitation. She searched for exactly what her body was craving.

"Mature woman seduces younger woman."
The thumbnail alone sent a spark straight to her core.

The video began, the soft click of heels in a doorway, a husky laugh, a slow unbuttoning. Cary’s breath caught as she reclined on the pillows, her thighs parting with lazy inevitability. Her right hand skimmed up her stomach, pausing to squeeze her breast, soft and firm in her palm, before teasing her nipple between two fingers. It hardened instantly. She did the same with the other, pinching and rolling as her hips began to shift, slowly, seeking more.

The screen showed the older woman tracing kisses down the neck of the eager girl, fingers undoing a blouse, tongue dragging across delicate collarbones.

Cary moaned softly, a sound muffled into the crook of her arm. Her left hand slid lower now, skimming down her stomach, sliding over her smooth, shaved core. Her fingers found her clit, already swollen, and circled it gently, teasing, coaxing. She was wet. Soaked. Her thighs opened wider. Her breathing deepened.

The video showed the women tangled on a couch now, the younger one gasping, body arching. Cary mirrored the motion instinctively, her back bowing off the bed as she pressed two fingers inside herself, slow at first, then deeper.

"God…" she whispered, her head falling back.

The scene on the screen intensified, the older woman now sucking hungrily on the girl's breasts, her hand moving fast between the girl’s spread legs. Cary matched the rhythm, finger-fucking herself harder now, her palm grinding into her clit with each thrust. Her nipples tingled from earlier teasing, her body slick with sweat.

She reached toward the nightstand without looking. Her vibrator was waiting, charged. A slim, curved bullet she slid between her legs with practiced ease. The second it buzzed to life, she gasped, hips jerking upward to meet the vibration. She pressed it directly to her clit and let herself ride the wave.

Moaning now. Loud enough that she bit her lip to keep from crying out, the vibrator pulsed. Her fingers curled deep inside her.

She imagined the scene playing out on the bed next to her. The older woman. The younger girl’s soft moans. The mutual hunger. The lust building until it was unbearable. She was part of it. Watching. Touching. Being touched.

Her legs trembled. "Yes… fuck, yes," she gasped, the heat boiling over.

The first orgasm hit like a flash flood… her body jerking as the pleasure tore through her, blinding and bright. But she didn’t stop. She pressed harder, the vibrator relentless against her clit, her fingers soaked and still plunging in and out.

Another wave hit, stronger, a cry escaping her lips this time, raw, primal in its intensity.

Then a third.

She collapsed back against the bed, sheets twisted around her, breasts heaving with each breath. Her skin was flushed, thighs quivering, her hair damp at the temples.

Cary lay quietly, the laptop screen dark, feeling the culmination of her release. Her waves melded with those of the Myrtle Beach surf.

…

The sun crept into the room. Her body was still humming from the night before. Lying on the sheets, the satisfaction had now brought on a hunger for something more. That fantasy she’d indulged in, the older woman seducing the young beauty on her screen, wasn’t quite ready to leave her mind. If anything, it had planted a seed.

Slipping out of bed, Cary stepped into the warm water of her morning shower, letting it refresh and awaken her. She applied makeup and pulled her silver hair back into a sleek ponytail. Her body looked damn good, tight shorty yoga pants hugging her hips, a tight black sports bra giving her just the right amount of lift. Her nipples were pressed faintly against the fabric, and she didn’t bother trying to hide them.

The hotel’s small ballroom had been transformed into a temporary yoga studio. Soft instrumental music played over a portable speaker. A dozen mats were arranged in neat rows, each occupied by a woman in various stages of stretching. Cary took a spot near the front, her heartbeat ticking up slightly.

That’s when she saw her.

The instructor.

Cindy.

Twenty years younger, if not more. Petite, toned, with the defined curves of a gymnast. A blonde pixie cut framed her heart-shaped face. Her B-cup breasts rose and fell beneath a sleek lavender tank top. She wore tight shorts that hugged her ass perfectly, the curve of her hip catching the light as she walked between mats. Her presence was magnetic.

Cary felt her body respond, an instant, the low thrum of heat.

Cindy’s voice was soft, calm, but confident as she welcomed everyone. As the class began, Cary moved through the poses fluidly, but her mind wandered. When Cindy came by to offer adjustments, her touch lingered. A firm, guiding hand on Cary’s shoulder… the press of fingers just above her hip… a subtle, deliberate graze of fingertips over her outer thigh.

Then, it happened.

Cindy knelt beside her during a seated forward bend, gently correcting her posture. One hand on Cary’s lower back, the other lightly against her sternum, just above her breasts. Her breath was warm. Her lips just inches from Cary’s ear.

“Good… just like that,” Cindy whispered, and the tone wasn’t purely instructional.

Cary’s skin tingled in every place Cindy touched.

Later, during pigeon pose, Cindy came around again. This time, her palm rested on Cary’s glute longer than strictly necessary, applying firm but sensual pressure. Cary bit her lip. She didn’t imagine it; there was something there. Something electric.

When the class ended, women rolled up their mats and filed out. But Cary waited, wiping sweat from her brow, making small talk with a woman nearby until Cindy approached.

“Thanks for the extra help,” Cary said, standing, holding her mat casually under one arm.

“My pleasure,” Cindy replied with a teasing smile. “You’ve got great form.”

Cary tilted her head and caught Cindy’s eye. “Would you care to join me for a late dinner tonight? I’d love to continue our… flow.”

A pause.

Then Cindy smiled, a bright and wicked smile.

“I’d love that.”

Their fingers brushed as they said goodbye. A touch that lingered. A parting glance that said everything.

…

Cary was already seated when Cindy walked in. And God, she was radiant.

Cary had chosen her outfit with care. Her silver hair was swept back in soft waves, makeup flawless with smoky eyes and berry lips. A pale blue wrap skirt clung to her waist and opened just enough over one leg to reveal a toned thigh. Her top hugged her D-cup breasts and dipped low at the neckline, just enough to invite attention, but classy in its flirtation.

She looked sensual. Confident. In control.

Cindy did not disappoint.

The younger woman was stunning. Her miniskirt was short, dangerously so, and her plunging halter top made it clear she’d skipped the bra. Her pixie cut was tousled just right, cheeks slightly flushed as she spotted Cary.

Their embrace at the table was soft but charged, arms wrapping around each other as their bodies pressed for a moment too long. When they pulled away, Cindy’s fingers grazed the small of Cary’s back before slowly trailing down her hip.

They ordered cocktails. Cary had a dirty martini. Cindy had a margarita with salt.

Their conversation began casually, with real estate, yoga clients, and travel. But soon the language shifted. The glances deepened, lingering as Cindy mentioned teaching a private class for an older couple. Cary asked what kind of stretches were involved. A laugh. A look.

“So,” Cindy said, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. “Is Myrtle Beach business… or pleasure for you?”

Cary leaned in. “Right now? A little of both. And I’m very open to expanding the pleasure part.”

Cindy didn’t shy away.

“I’m glad I wore the right outfit then.”

“You certainly did,” Cary replied, her voice low and velvet-smooth. “You’ve had my attention since this morning.”

Their fingers found each other at the center of the table, lacing slowly. Cary stared into Cindy’s vivid blue eyes, the music and noise of the bar fading to a hush around them.

“Come upstairs with me,” Cary whispered.

There was no hesitation.

Cindy nodded.

“Yes.”

…

The door clicked softly shut behind them.

Cary led Cindy to the king-sized bed in the room, where only candlelight illuminated it. The air between them was charged with anticipation.

Neither woman spoke.

They didn’t have to.

Cary turned, and Cindy was already there, face close, a heartbeat of silence passing before their lips met. The kiss was slow and savoring. Cary's hands rose to cradle Cindy’s face, fingers tangling gently in her pixie-cut hair. Cindy’s palms slid to Cary’s waist, gripping the curve of her hips through the silky wrap skirt.

Cindy moaned softly as the kiss deepened. Their lips parted, and tongues met in a hot, searching rhythm. Their bodies pressed together through fabric, nipples brushing beneath thin layers of clothing, hips shifting with growing urgency.

Cary reached for the tie of her skirt and let it fall to the floor, standing before Cindy in just her panties and that low-cut top. Cindy’s eyes traveled downward, then stepped forward to slide her hands beneath Cary’s top, feeling the warmth of bare skin, the firmness of full breasts beneath.

Cary arched slightly as Cindy’s thumbs grazed her nipples through the fabric, drawing a sharp gasp. Then, Cindy lifted the top over Cary’s head, exposing her breasts fully. They stood together a moment, breathing in the sight of each other.

Now it was Cary’s turn.

Her fingers found the hem of Cindy’s plunging top and peeled it upward. No bra. No resistance. Just smooth, soft skin and pert, perfect breasts that fit sweetly into Cary’s palms. She kissed each one, slowly, reverently, before guiding Cindy back toward the bed.

They climbed onto it together, sitting face to face, legs folded, arms wrapped around shoulders and waists. The kissing resumed. Their hands slid over backs, sides, thighs, then crept upward again to breasts, caressing, kneading. They took turns moaning, fingers playing over nipples until they stiffened.

Cindy’s hand cupped Cary’s sex through her panties, applying gentle, steady pressure that made Cary’s breath hitch. “You’re soaked,” Cindy whispered, biting Cary’s lower lip.

Clothes were peeled away slowly, teasingly. Panties slid down thighs like silk. Each woman admired the other in the low light, nude, beautiful, hungry.

Cary turned and crawled forward on all fours, her ass arched high, back curved with feline grace.

Cindy knelt behind, both her hands on Cary’s hips, thumbs brushing the dimples above her cheeks. She leaned in and kissed Cary’s lower back, then lower, just above her cleft. Her fingers traced a lazy circle along the lips of Cary’s pussy before gliding gently inward. The heat there was unbelievable.

Cary gasped as Cindy’s fingers found her clit, rubbing slow, rhythmic circles that made her sway like a wave. One finger dipped inside, then another, slick with arousal. Cindy worked her fingers deeply, curling them just right, while her lips pressed open-mouth kisses across Cary’s ass and thighs.

Then she went lower.

Her tongue replaced her fingers, licking along the outer lips, then the center, upward again to flick and circle the clit with delicious, maddening precision.

Cary’s body began to quake.

“Oh God… yes… don’t stop…”

Her thighs trembled. Her arms tensed.

Cindy’s mouth latched around her clit as her fingers resumed their deep strokes, curling, coaxing. Cary let out a cry that echoed off the walls, her orgasm tearing through her in waves. Her body spasmed, back arching, breath gone, then exploding from her chest in helpless, writhing pleasure.

She collapsed forward into the pillows, gasping.

Moments later, Cary rolled onto her back, then sat up with a slow, hungry smile. “Your turn.”

Cindy lay back against the headboard, spreading her legs with a grin that dripped invitation. Her slickness shimmered in the amber light, glistening between thighs toned from yoga and youth. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, nipples hard and flushed.

Cary moved between her legs like a lioness, steady and purposeful. She ran her hands up Cindy’s inner thighs, spreading them wider, planting kisses from knee to hip before finally pressing her mouth to Cindy’s center. Her tongue was slow at first, curious, savoring, probing between the folds, tasting deeply.

Cindy moaned loudly, one hand tangled in Cary’s silver hair, the other gripping the sheet.

When Cary’s fingers joined in, two, sliding in slowly, Cindy gasped, hips jerking.

Cary curled them, searching for that sweet, spongy spot. When she found it, Cindy’s whole body tensed.

“Right there… oh God, Cary… don’t stop, don’t you dare…”

Cary increased the pressure, her tongue swirling fast over the clit as her fingers pumped deeper. Cindy’s thighs clamped around Cary’s head, hips bucking wildly as the orgasm surged through her.

And then…

She squirted.

A sudden flood, warm and sweet, soaking Cary’s hand and lips. Cindy cried out as her body shook, legs spasming, toes curling.

Cary didn’t stop until Cindy begged her to.

They lay draped across each other, Cindy curled against Cary’s side, one hand resting over her heart, both women flushed and glowing.

They kissed, affectionately, in a post-climax intimacy that required no words.

They fell asleep, hearts slowed, completely satisfied, for now.

…

Cary awoke to the muted hush of the Myrtle Beach morning. The room was still dim, the curtains drawn, but a soft pink glow crept through at the edges. Cindy was curled beside her, nestled like a kitten, one arm draped lazily across Cary’s belly.

But it wasn’t long before Cary felt the subtle pressure of Cindy’s hand roaming with purpose, fingers delicately teasing across her breasts, a thumb lightly grazing along her hips, then at her core.

Cary rolled away and slipped from the bed. She walked toward the desk and tapped the spacebar to wake the computer. The screen lit up. She navigated with practiced ease to a favorite site. The chosen video loaded, mature seduction, older brunette coaxing a delicious moan from a nervous, fresh-faced blonde in a dimly lit bedroom.

Cary turned, her expression smoky. “Come sit,” she said, patting the top edge of the bed. Cindy obeyed, nude and glowing, tucking herself into a soft, cross-legged perch at the top of the comforter.

Cary joined her, wrapping her body around Cindy’s from behind, warm breasts pressed to Cindy’s back, thighs framing her petite hips. Their skin touched everywhere.

Cary’s fingers went first to Cindy’s scalp, combing through her short, pixie-cut blonde hair. Gentle, rhythmic strokes, like a spell being cast. Then, down, massaging her neck, tracing the lines of her collarbone, hands splaying across her toned back and sliding around to cradle the swell of her perky breasts.

On-screen, the younger girl whimpered as her mentor slid a hand between her thighs. Cindy’s breath caught.

“Watch,” Cary whispered. “Let it turn you on.”

Cary’s hands moved lower now, drifting between Cindy’s thighs, parting them slightly. Her fingers grazed the soft folds of Cindy’s pussy, already warm and slick. Cindy’s eyes stayed glued to the screen, even as her hips tilted forward against Cary’s hand.

Cary slid a finger along her slit, then two, swirling at the entrance and teasing the swollen clit in lazy, melting circles.

“Oh… God,” Cindy gasped. Her nipples stood taut. Her thighs trembled.

Cary reached for the drawer. The vibrator was cool to the touch but quickly warmed in her palm. She pressed it softly to Cindy’s clit, letting the low hum vibrate into her, while continuing to stroke and tease with the other hand.

“Keep watching,” Cary murmured, voice like velvet. “Let her teach you how to come for me.”

Cindy moaned, her back arching against Cary’s chest, her breath syncing with the building intensity of the video, now holding the vibrator, hitting all the right spots.

Cary rose and moved to sit across from Cindy on the bed, legs parted. Her silver hair fell in waves as she cupped her own breasts, teasing her nipples, then dipped two fingers between her thighs. Her hand moved with expert rhythm, fingers curling in to stroke that perfect inner spot, her hips rocking forward to meet the pressure.

Their eyes met, panting, vibrator pressed firmly to Cindy’s slick pussy, moaning like the starlet on the screen. Cary’s moans also grew louder, fingers working furiously now, her voice breaking with each breath.

“Oh fuck…”

Cary’s body shook. The muscles in her thighs tightened, belly clenching. And then… release. A scream burst from her lips as her climax tore through her. Her hips lifted off the bed, squirting wet heat across the sheets.

The sight of Cary unraveling, her strength, her surrender, was too much. Cindy whimpered, “Oh fuck, yes!” and exploded herself, head tossed back, mouth wide as her orgasm overtook her. Her body shook violently, legs quivering, the toy slipping from her hand as she spasmed in pure pleasure.

For a long moment, they lay in the silence that followed, the soft rhythm of breath and heartbeats, limbs tangled, chests heaving.

And then, laughter.
Warm, spontaneous, disarming laughter.

They lay there, wrapped in each other, kisses trailing across flushed skin, the glow of their lust still sparkling like embers.

As Cindy finally dressed, Cary pulled her into one last deep kiss, hands sliding down the curve of her ass.

“I’m really glad I decided to hit that yoga class,” Cary said, giving her a playful spank.

Cindy turned, biting her lower lip, eyes bright with mischief. “Me too.”

They both laughed again.

The door closed behind Cindy with a soft click, and Cary lay back on the bed, smiling at the ceiling, the scent of sex and satisfaction thick in the air.