Erotic massage - part 1.

Zafira felt the itch for touch after too long alone. She booked Lily LaBeau, the lithe masseuse whose reputation preceded her, and showed up bare, nipples already tight in the cool air. Lily’s palms met oiled skin and began their slow survey—shoulders, spine, the sweet dip above Zafira’s ass. Each stroke drew the blonde’s breath shorter, hips beginning an unconscious roll against the towel. Lily’s fingers ventured lower, parted her, teased the wet seam until Zafira’s quiet gasps turned to needy whimpers. When the brunette leaned in, tongue replacing fingertips, Zafira shuddered and pushed back for more. Lily straddled her then, slick heat grinding against the curve of Zafira’s thigh, guiding their bodies into a sinuous rhythm. The massage table creaked under their shifting weight as Lily’s skilled mouth closed over a stiff nipple, sucking until Zafira cried out. Fingers slipped inside her again, curling just so, and the room filled with the wet sounds of a woman rediscovering her hunger. Every lick, every press, every shared breath peeled away the months of solitude until Zafira trembled on the edge—then tipped over, coming hard around Lily’s hand. When her vision cleared she was smiling, eyes bright with the promise of more.