Booty Camp

Olive G is running her corporate Booty Camp. During their lunch break, Trixie and Laney realize they left their workout clothes behind, but the other women are already here. With no reason to hold back, the two slip off their pants and stand there in bras and panties, ready to move. "We’ll be freer this way," Laney says, and the mood shifts. The session begins: legs working hard, hips opening, those bare curves meeting the warm air. Short breaths, long stares. Olive watches, gaze steady. "Mind if I join you?" Olive is already sliding her own leggings down. Three women stand nearly naked before the mirrors. No one says the obvious. Everyone sees it. Their asses look firmer, rounder, without fabric hiding the line. They turn. They admire. Laney’s hand hovers an inch from Trixie’s skin, then rests there, palm warm. Trixie pushes back into it. Olive steps closer, kneeling, and Laney feels a slow, firm lick along the crease of her backside. Heat blooms through every place they touch. Trixie leans against the mirror, knuckles white. "Don’t stop," she says, voice low. Olive moves between them, tasting, savoring, her tongue sure and hungry. She licks one girl, then the other, then looks up, mouth wet. They switch positions again and again: bending forward, spreading, watching in the glass. Fingers and tongues mix with the effort of staying on their feet. Sweat brightens their thighs. They grab, praise, taste like this is the exercise they came here for, like strength can be shown in devotion instead of reps.