Switching Teams

Niki works her hands down Jennifer’s oiled thighs like she’s coaxing the tension out inch by inch. Her thumbs trace along the soft seam between leg and cunt, brushing close enough to stir the air there. The shaved lips glisten. One quick swipe—open, shut—then nothing. Tease repeated, pulse quickened. Jennifer lies prone, trusting the table. Her hips stay still, but the tiny hitch in her breath betrays the urge to push back. Another calculated graze. Slick, fleeting. The angle steals every curve of her cunt, petal-pink and soft. She turns, tits high, nipples drawn tight enough to ache. Shyness flickers, gone the instant fingertips sweep lower. Niki stays patient, lets one knuckle press the swelling hood of her clit, lets the contact settle. When the mouth follows—tongue wide, flat—Jennifer’s thighs drop open in surrender. Nothing coy left. Wet sounds fill the narrow space. Niki eats slow at first, sealing lips around every fold, pulling until slick stretches from tongue tip to trembling entrance. Jennifer’s hips start to roll in tight, hungry circles. Her moans deepen, unfiltered, until they climb to a shaking peak and crash into open-throated release.