Call Me?

Nikita drops onto the table like she owns it, already irritated before her skin meets the sheet. She skips the towel entirely. Her ass spreads wide on contact, pale cheeks parting enough to show everything: tight pink asshole, smooth bare cunt lips slick from the heat of the room. Lia keeps her tone even, hands working oil into muscle, eyes staying professional even when the view turns filthy. Nikita flips without asking. Her tits sit high and round, nipples tight from the cool air. She grabs Lia's wrist and plants the palm dead-center on her chest. "Harder," she snaps. Lia doesn't argue. She presses, circles, rolls each breast until Nikita's breath catches. Then comes the demand. "Rub my clit." Lia slides two fingers down without hesitation, parts those shaven folds, finds the swollen nub and strokes it slow, then firm. Nikita's hips tilt up, cunt glistening now. Lia reads the cue and drops to her knees at the foot of the table. She spreads Nikita wider, tongue flat and deliberate as it drags from entrance to clit in one long, wet stroke. She pushes inside, fucking her with it, nose pressed against that smooth mound. Nikita grabs fistfuls of sheet and swears under her breath. Minutes later they dig through Lia's bag for toys. A curved glass dildo, a slim wand, a thick plug. They take turns burying each one, the massage long forgotten, bodies twisting and grinding until the room smells like sex and warm oil.