Nina’s hands smell like coconut oil when she opens the door and sees Lexi standing there in jeans and a thin tank top. They both laugh once, quick and quiet. Nina gestures to the table like nothing’s strange. Lexi peels her shirt off; the silver bar through her nipple glints under the low light. She lies down on her stomach, cheek against the towel, and Nina drizzles oil down the line of her spine. At first the strokes stay polite. Nina works Lexi’s shoulders, thumbs digging under the blades, slow circles that pull little sighs out of her. The sound makes Nina’s own skin tighten. She moves lower, palms spreading over ribs, fingers slipping along the sides of Lexi’s breasts where they press against the table. Lexi’s hips shift, just once, like she’s testing how much room she has. Nina’s thumbs reach the waistband of the towel. She tugs it lower without asking. Lexi lifts her hips to help. The fabric slides away and the curve of her ass catches the light. Nina keeps working, but now her thumbs dip between the cheeks on every stroke, brushing close, retreating, brushing again. The next pass she doesn’t retreat. Lexi spreads her knees. Nina’s slick fingers slide lower, find heat and slickness that isn’t oil. She circles once, twice, then presses in. Lexi’s breath catches. Nina keeps the rhythm steady, one hand working inside, the other gliding up to pinch the barbell and tug. Lexi rocks back to meet each push, soft sounds turning raw. She rolls over without being told. Her tits rise and fall fast; the metal catches every breath. Nina climbs onto the table, knees bracketing Lexi’s hips, and sinks two fingers deep again while her thumb finds the swollen clit already throbbing. Lexi’s hand comes up, grabs Nina’s wrist, urging her faster. The table creaks. Oil and sweat mix on skin. Lexi comes with a broken moan, thighs shaking, cunt pulsing around Nina’s fingers like a fist.
Nina’s hands smell like coconut oil when she opens the door and sees Lexi standing there in jeans and a thin tank top. They both laugh once, quick and quiet. Nina gestures to the table like nothing’s strange. Lexi peels her shirt off; the silver bar through her nipple glints under the low light. She lies down on her stomach, cheek against the towel, and Nina drizzles oil down the line of her spine. At first the strokes stay polite. Nina works Lexi’s shoulders, thumbs digging under the blades, slow circles that pull little sighs out of her. The sound makes Nina’s own skin tighten. She moves lower, palms spreading over ribs, fingers slipping along the sides of Lexi’s breasts where they press against the table. Lexi’s hips shift, just once, like she’s testing how much room she has. Nina’s thumbs reach the waistband of the towel. She tugs it lower without asking. Lexi lifts her hips to help. The fabric slides away and the curve of her ass catches the light. Nina keeps working, but now her thumbs dip between the cheeks on every stroke, brushing close, retreating, brushing again. The next pass she doesn’t retreat. Lexi spreads her knees. Nina’s slick fingers slide lower, find heat and slickness that isn’t oil. She circles once, twice, then presses in. Lexi’s breath catches. Nina keeps the rhythm steady, one hand working inside, the other gliding up to pinch the barbell and tug. Lexi rocks back to meet each push, soft sounds turning raw. She rolls over without being told. Her tits rise and fall fast; the metal catches every breath. Nina climbs onto the table, knees bracketing Lexi’s hips, and sinks two fingers deep again while her thumb finds the swollen clit already throbbing. Lexi’s hand comes up, grabs Nina’s wrist, urging her faster. The table creaks. Oil and sweat mix on skin. Lexi comes with a broken moan, thighs shaking, cunt pulsing around Nina’s fingers like a fist.
