Import Massage

Natasha lounges back on the massage table. Oil glistens across her skin under the dim lights. Courtney's hands, warm and sure, spread the slick across her thighs, then dip lower until her fingers brush the soft flesh between. A sharp breath leaves Natasha. She opens her legs wider. Courtney sees the invitation and takes it—first with slow strokes across slick folds, then with her mouth, tongue working deeper, tasting. Natasha arches. When Courtney returns with the strap-on, thick and smooth, she doesn't tease. She presses in, hips rolling steady, each thrust rocking Natasha hard against the table. They move like they’ve done this a hundred times: Courtney gripping tight at the waist, Natasha pushing back, taking every inch until her moans fill the room.