Amazing Grace

race and Charlotte walked hand in hand along the cliffside path, the sun hanging bright above the waves, painting the sea in shimmering gold. Just ten minutes walk from home, they had to admit, this place was beautiful. Grace walked close to the cliff edge, her slim legs poured into her black leggings, pulled up tight so they were like a second skin. As her oversized T-shirt billowed around her, swallowing her small shoulders, it revealed her pert buttocks as the material clung to the crevice of her ass crack. Beside her, Charlotte walked while looking out to sea, her yoga pants skimming the gentle swell of her hips, as her hoodie did little to hide her generously portioned butt-cheeks wobbling with each stride. “It’s so beautiful here, Grace,” Charlotte murmured, her thumb brushing over her daughter’s knuckles. “I wish you could be happy here.” Grace leaned into her, her shoulder pressing against the softer weight of her mother’s breasts. “I am, Mummy, when I’m with you. I just hate school. I wish you didn’t have to work so much.” Charlotte pulled her closer. “Only a few more shifts, darling. Then the credit card’s paid off, and when school’s out, we’ll go on holiday together.” Grace buried her face in the crook of her mother’s neck, breathing in the familiar scent of her perfume, her arms tightening around her. She felt so safe with her mother, if only, she thought, she could be with her always.

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The next day at school, Grace felt off. Fuzzy. Distant. Her head swam, her thoughts constantly. Was this her period? No, she checked her knickers, there was nothing. In French class, the words on the board blurred. She blinked, trying to focus, but her mind kept drifting. Then she felt the weight of a gaze. Mr. Armand was staring at her, not with anger, but with something worse, leering interest. She realized her legs were spread, her skirt riding up high. The thin fabric of her knickers was visible, and her sleazy French teacher could see the pale outline of her lips pressed against the cotton. Mortified, she slammed her knees shut, heat flooding her face. Mr. Armand looked away, but not before she caught the smirk tugging at his mouth.