Another Mistaken Identity!

Moka stretched out on a lounger, drink sweating in her hand. Sun had been good to her. Aiden stopped at the edge of the lounge and smiled. Five minutes later the blonde’s fingers slipped a coupon between the strap of Moka’s bag. When Moka walked through the salon door the next afternoon, the blonde greeted her like a stranger. All the rooms booked, Aiden claimed. Only two hands free right now. She offered to turn away while Moka dropped the sundress and climbed onto the table. Once the oil hit skin, Aiden’s palms claimed the full weight of her ass in slow, possessive circles. Moka lifted her head. Aiden kept her tone light, assured her every stroke was standard, and Moka settled back down. More oil. More skin. Thumbs rolled over nipples, circled the soft weight of her breasts, then slid lower. When her fingertips traced the line of Moka’s slit, Moka pushed up on her elbows, but Aiden’s hand pressed between her shoulder blades: stay down, feel it right. One slick finger pushed past wet lips. Moka exhaled, hips tilting, the first quiet sound breaking loose from her throat.