Lesbo Massage

Tonya’s hands know Nastie’s body already. Strong, flexible, sure. She starts slow. Oils the skin. Works the shoulders, down the back, over the hips. Every stroke is measured. Then the touch deepens. One palm slides between the cheeks, finds the tight ring, works in a steady rhythm. The other hand moves lower, parts the lips, sinks in. Two fingers. Three. They move together, a perfect rhythm. Nastie’s breath catches. Her thighs tense. She comes once, quietly, then again, louder, hips jerking against the sheets. Tonya keeps going, slow and steady, until Nastie is shaking and slick, every muscle loose, every nerve on fire.