Up The Skirt

Alix Lynx came in for her hip. First massage ever. She kept every stitch on. Sasha Heart nodded, peeled the knee socks anyway, and ran warm palms up her calves until the muscles stopped fighting. Alix still balked when Sasha lifted the hem of her shirt. Sasha murmured that she needed bare skin to work; the fabric would only bunch and tug. Alix let the cotton slide up. Her pretty red panties flashed when Sasha rolled her onto her stomach and sank thumbs into the tight glute that refused to release. Tension. Tournament pressure. The girl was a knot. Sasha traced the lacy edge and told her she had the kind of ass that made grown men stupid. Alix’s breath caught, but her hips tipped into the stroke. When Sasha flipped her, the sports bra went next. Heavy tits spilled free; pale pink nipples tightened in the cool air. Sasha cupped both and squeezed until Alix stopped pretending she minded. “You’re the kind of body everyone wants to fuck,” Sasha said, low. Alix called it unprofessional. Sasha only smiled. She didn’t talk that way to anyone else. Alix was special. The hard-to-get game was doing things to her. Fingers slid over damp pink cotton, slow circles. Sasha asked if she could bury her face between those legs and make Alix come. The panties came off. Sasha’s tongue found the bare slit, licked the teen wet and shiny, then slid lower, teasing her tight little asshole until Alix whimpered and shook. One messy, shuddering orgasm later, Alix promised to return the favor. She climbed on, spread Sasha open, and they 69’d until both women were gasping and coming on each other’s tongues.