A Helping Hand

After a DUI bust knocks her off the circuit, Layla steps into her old coach’s gym and starts cracking the whip. The girls groan under her drills, but Trish is the one who can barely walk when it’s over. Later, in the locker room, she limps over to Summer—her cut-throat rival by day, her secret by night. Summer kneels between Trish’s spread thighs and rubs the ache from her quads, her palms gliding over the soft, untrimmed curls that nestle between them. The room smells of sweat and coconut oil. Trish’s natural breasts rise and fall with each slow breath; Summer’s heavier, fuller tits brush against Trish’s knees as she works higher. Fingers slip past damp hair and stroke wet heat until Trish’s hips twitch and her breath catches. A quiet gasp, a slick sound, the muted slap of skin on skin. Trish comes with her fingers tangled in Summer’s hair, legs shaking all over again, but this time from pleasure, not pain.