The Athlete

Alix's shoulder tweaked during a yoga pose. Violet Monroe stepped close, offered to slip away and work the knot on the table next door. She moved with quiet certainty, pressing warm oil into muscle she had learned to read somewhere in India. Alix stripped off her top. Violet noticed the tight bands across her chest and began to stroke the bare breasts, thumbs circling the nipples until they stood stiff under slick fingers. Alix kept still, trusting the hands on her skin. Violet lingered lower, palms sliding over the round cheeks of her ass, squeezing until the small muscles gave. Alix frowned, curious. Violet smiled: the heaviest knots live beneath the waist. She rolled her onto her back, settled her thighs astride the tiny blonde, and lowered her mouth to the pink nipples, sucking each one wet. One hand pressed firm circles below the navel. Alix breathed faster. Violet peeled off her own clothes, hair like copper against the pale skin, and bent between tan thighs. Her tongue found the slick seam, traced it once, then flicked across the swollen clit. Alix opened wider. The two women rearranged themselves, blond and red hair mingled over bellies and hips, mouths busy, thighs trembling, until each pulse of orgasm shook through them in quick, rolling waves. They finished stretched out on the sheet, breathing soft, shoulder loose and forgotten.