Marica, the masseuse

The parlor lights are low, the table oiled and warm. Marica moves between the two men on their backs, her hands slick, her mouth already open for the first cock that brushes her lips. She takes it deep, saliva shining on her chin, while her fingers close around the second shaft. They grow harder under her touch. She climbs up, settles astride one, and guides him straight into her ass, slow, tight, every inch claimed. The second man steps in behind her, pressing his cock against the same hole. Marica braces, breathing hard, as both slide inside together, stretching her. She rocks between them, dark hair falling across her face, breath catching with each double thrust. Their hands grip her hips, her waist, holding her steady while she rides the thick pressure filling her. Sweat beads on her skin. When she comes, it’s sudden and sharp, her body clenching around them both, and they don’t stop moving until she’s trembling again.