The Godmother

My husband John has been kind to relay my experiences of sexual re-awakening. I thought I should have a go myself telling of a rather meaningful recent encounter. My good Friend Jess has a younger daughter Kimberly, who somehow got the nickname Bamber as a child and it stuck. She is my God-daughter and I have always treated her like my own daughter. Bamber was the last to leave the nest and recently married a lovely guy named Alexander. They have a place in Surrey – in the next county – and he has just landed a great job in the city. He is still on his PhD and combining that with work is apparently taking a toll on their relationship. They met at University and seemed so ideal together. I remember when John started teaching and he had not yet finished his dissertation – it was a nightmare for our early relationship.

Alex is tall – about 6 foot two and athletic with a shock of unruly black hair. Bamber is also on the tall side – about 5 foot 11 and she is anything but athletic. I can’t remember her ever doing anything athletic. How she keeps her hourglass figure is down to nature’s good graces – unlike her mother who has no discernible figure. Bamber has waist length dark red hair almost auburn and the light green sparkly eyes. Her skin is pale almost alabaster and she has a penchant for too much makeup. Typical of young women today she dresses like a slut and has appalling manners even with the constant effort of her mother when growing up – or as a result of Jess’s constant efforts. As the youngest and a surprise late pregnancy she has been rather spoilt and has nothing in common with her much older sisters – who I adore as well. They both now live in America and we see them only at Christmas or a family event. I must take some of the blame for Bamber. When Jess wouldn’t give her what she wanted Aunt Ali was always ready and willing. It isn’t a bad relationship between mother and daughter but Bamber always seemed to pour her heart out to me rather than face the scorn or her mother.
Recently she went to see her mother for a heart to heart about Alex. As usual they didn’t see the same reality and Bamber came over to my place. John had already left for work when Bamber came ambling up the drive. I was in the conservatory at the back of the house having just got out of the shower after a good workout in my home gym. I had made a tea and was still in my robe and sat in my favourite Lloyd loom arm chair looking out the opened French doors onto the back yard and on down the hill of our place. We live in a very hilly and wooded part of North Hampshire. I was day dreaming and had let my robe fall open and was rather absentmindedly caressing my pussy and playing with my clit – when Bamber rounded the corner from the front. I first heard the gravel crunching on the path and was able to compose myself just in time. I must have looked flustered or Bamber had seen more than I thought.

“You all right Aunt Ali?”

“Yes dear I’m fine – just lost in thought. Nice to see you.” I got up to embrace my God daughter and my robe fell open.

“Wow sexy.” I hurriedly pulled my robe together and realised I didn’t have a sash. I had a Teri cloth robe on after the shower to dry and had changed into this cream linen shorty that I love. However it is a bit revealing and my nipples were still erect from earlier and quite visible through the very thin fabric.
“Oh stop now – don’t be crude – and give me a cuddle.”

“I don’t know – those hard nipples might bruise my delicate skin.” Bamber had a way of talking that just cut away all subtlety. As we embraced I could feel she was upset.

“I’m sorry let me put something on.”

“No no sorry – it’s not that … me and Mother have had a row.” It was always the more formal ‘mother’ – when they didn’t see eye to eye and ‘mommy’ – when things went Bamber’s way.

“Oh I see – mother problems huh?”

“No … it’s actually Alex problems and mom said I should come over and have a talk with my Aunt Ali.” That was my other role – at least for Jess – to act as a sounding board and try to get to the bottom of things when the two of them couldn’t communicate. She put her arms out and we had a good long cuddle. “Jesus you do smell good Aunt Ali.”

“Thank you dear.” But I knew that she wasn’t smelling perfume – I wasn’t wearing any – or bath products because all mine are scent free.