A Sight For Sore Thighs

Melody meets Calla at the door and that blonde bombshell is already limping a little. Says her thighs are killing her from hopping on a horse for the first time. Melody gets her on the table, starts working those thick legs, really digs her thumbs in. Nothing’s budging. Calla’s still wincing. That’s when Melody strips off her top, slicks herself shiny with oil, and climbs right up. She straddles those sore thighs, grinds their slick pussies together, and the second that pressure hits the right spot Calla lets out a moan that says the pain’s already fading. They stay locked like that, hips rolling, tits sliding, oil everywhere. Calla’s not sore anymore, but neither of them wants to stop. They slather on more oil, switch angles, and keep going—fingers sliding in, tongues tasting, both girls shining and grinding until the only thing left throbbing is pure want.