My All Girl Massage

April’s boyfriend’s wild dream? Her, naked and slick under another woman’s hands. She books the session with Jenna and steps into the studio trying to keep a straight face. Jenna tells her to breathe, shows her the table, and says undress whenever she’s ready. April waits until the door clicks before she peels off everything and lies face-down, skin prickling against the cool sheet. Oil hits warm on her shoulders, drips down the curve of her back, and a few reckless drops slide straight into the lace of her panties. Jenna doesn’t even pretend to apologize—just presses her palms lower, thumbs digging into the back of April’s thighs until April’s breath catches. Fingers glide up the inside of her legs, graze the already damp strip of fabric, then push it aside. The first slow rub over slick folds pulls a shaky moan out of April before she can bite it back. Jenna’s tongue follows, soft, hot, eager, tracing every wet inch until April’s hips jerk against the table. April’s big tits press into the cushion, nipples stiff, and when Jenna swings a thigh over her face the scent of both women fills the room. April opens her mouth, finds Jenna’s pussy, and they fall into the sixty-nine, tongues sliding, hips rocking, every lick louder than the last. They flip, April on top now, then onto their sides, legs scissored, wet pussies grinding clit-to-clit. The oil, the sweat, the heat—all of it slicks their frantic rhythm until the tremors hit, thighs shaking, gasps tangled, every nerve lit up in the kind of finish that leaves both of them laughing and breathless.