Full Service Exchange

Mia Malkova had the kind of day that dragged on too long, slow and heavy. A massage would fix it. Alex walked in with her pole-dancing flyers and caught her eye. They worked out a trade. Class for hands. Later, Alex moved her hips over Mia’s lap, slow circles, nothing hidden. Clothes vanished without ceremony. Soft mouths found soft breasts, hands gripped tighter. Mia eased Alex onto the leather chair and took her time between parted thighs, tongue working in measured strokes until Alex’s back arched. They traded positions after that, each tasting what the other gave, rocking together until the ache turned sharp and then broke. Nothing left untried. Nothing left unsaid.