Game, Set, Massage

Two sun-baked babes strut back from the volleyball court, bikinis riding high. Jordan drags her hand over a stiff shoulder and bitches about how sore she is. Aria shoots her that cocksure grin. “Sit your ass down, let me work the knots out.” Jordan drops onto the couch; Aria’s oiled hands go straight to work, pressing hard along the blades, hips grinding closer with every stroke. The rubbing turns into slow, filthy rubbing, bikini tops shoved aside, skin on skin. Jordan’s top hits the floor. Aria’s fingers slide lower, hook under her bottoms and yank—no mercy. She opens her up, tongue flicking tight, hot circles until Jordan’s gasping, arching, clawing at the cushions. They wrestle the bikini bottoms the rest of the way off. Pressed together, slick and frantic, Aria rides Jordan’s thigh while two fingers sink deep inside her. Moans go from low to loud, hips snapping, until they’re riding the edge hard and collapsing in a breathless tangle.