Make It Slow

Siri Dahl's been busting her ass at that finance job—long hours, pain-in-the-neck clients—so a rubdown from Liv Revamped sounds like exactly what she needs. Liv isn't officially certified yet, just gunning for the license, but she's dying to practice on someone she already knows. Why not start with a friend who can handle a few slipped hands? Siri strips down right there and climbs onto the table, ass up, bare from her tight shoulders to those painted toes. Liv slicks oil between her palms, then drags them down Siri's spine and over the plump curve of her cheeks, slow enough to feel every shiver. Pretty soon the air gets thick—Siri's smooth, warm skin, the soft little sighs she's letting out—and Liv forgets the lesson plan. Her thumbs stray lower, knuckles brushing places that make Siri's breath hitch. It clicks fast: Siri's soaking wet, and she's pushing back into every stroke like she wants more. The rub turns greedy—oiled fingers parting slick folds, tongues tasting salt, skin slapping skin. They fuck right on the table, tangled up, sweaty and greedy, riding that line between "just a massage" and flat-out dirty until they're both wrecked and grinning.