Masseuse In The Making

Lysagna DelRay and Stevie Moon tumbled back into the house after the job fair. Lysagna had been buzzing with possibilities all afternoon, but Stevie dragged her feet, shoulders tight with uncertainty. Career choices swirled in her head like static. Lysagna watched her friend pace, then offered something simple: maybe Stevie should think about becoming a masseuse. Stevie worked with her hands all the time. Why not get paid for it? Stevie considered it for half a second and smiled. Lysagna pulled her tee over her head and lay down on the bed, natural tits pressing into the blanket. She told Stevie to start right there. Stevie climbed onto the mattress and placed both palms on Lysagna’s bare shoulders. Her thumbs moved in slow circles at first, then grew firmer, sliding down the smooth slope of Lysagna’s back. Each stroke loosened another knot until Lysagna let out a soft, pleased sigh. The sound lit something inside Stevie. Her fingertips dipped lower, tracing the dip of Lysagna’s spine until they met the waistband of her friend’s panties. She paused, heat rising between her thighs. Lysagna’s hips shifted once, inviting more. Stevie slid her hand beneath the thin cotton, cupped the curve of Lysagna’s ass, and squeezed. Lysagna’s breath hitched, hips lifting toward the touch. Stevie slipped two fingers between Lysagna’s legs. Wet heat met her knuckles. She stroked the slick folds, found the tight clit, and rubbed it in small, steady circles. Lysagna moaned into the pillow, thighs parting wider. Stevie’s own cunt throbbed. She kept rubbing, fingers sliding in deeper with every pass, until Lysagna rocked back against her hand, chasing the pressure. The room filled with the soft, wet sound of their shared rhythm.