The Tired Client

Jill Kassidy dragged herself in sore from last night. Her masseuse Jillian Janson asked where the pain sat and Jill mumbled that everything hurt. Clothes came off and she stretched out on her stomach. Jillian slicked her palms and began to glide over warm skin. Jill hardly stirred when those hands cupped her breasts; she was too wiped to notice. Half-asleep she slurred something about her tits and Jillian took it as permission. She squeezed and kneaded the small, perfect mounds, then let her fingers drift lower. Still no protest. Emboldened, Jillian slipped between Jill’s thighs and started working the swollen folds. Jill’s hips twitched. A low moan slipped out, and the sound of her own pleasure dragged her awake. She didn’t stop Jillian; she rocked into the touch. Soon Jillian asked her to turn over. Jill rolled onto her back, legs falling open, and Jillian admired the tight, pale ass before sliding two fingers straight back inside. A few firm strokes and Jill came hard, breath breaking, thighs trembling. Jillian stripped fast. They kissed deep, tongues sliding, then Jillian straddled Jill’s face and ground down until her own orgasm poured into Jill’s open mouth. Afterwards they scissored, hips snapping in rhythm, slick skin on slick skin. When Jillian finally collapsed beside her, Jill was already booking the next slot.