Inspection Gone Wrong

Buxom health inspector Bridgette B struts into the massage parlor, looking all pissed off and distracted. She glances at her watch and lets out a heavy sigh. Petite masseuse Christy Love pops in, mumbling apologies for the wait. Bridgette shoots her a dirty look and snaps that their meeting was set for one o'clock sharp—no excuses. Christy stammers it's only 1:02, but Bridgette just stares her down, blank-faced, then starts eyeballing the place. 'This joint's a disaster,' she says. Christy tries to butt in, explaining she was just cleaning up, but Bridgette cuts her off cold: 'I'll check the back if that's not too much hassle for you.' Christy nods and gestures for her to follow, but Bridgette blows past her with a scoff. In the back room, Bridgette scans the mess and rolls her eyes hard. Christy blurts that she's been tidying since they've been slammed lately, but Bridgette fixes her with a glare that shuts her up quick. Once Christy zips it, Bridgette reminds her they booked this inspection two weeks back—she's had ample time to get her shit together. Christy mumbles she wishes for more time, all meek-like. Bridgette locks eyes and lays down the ultimatum: 'What're you willing to do to pass this?' Christy blurts she'll do anything—even fuck her. Bridgette's eyebrows shoot up; she was just fishing for a free massage! But hey, sex? That's a step up, and way hotter. Christy thinks she's off the hook with just a comped rubdown, but too late—now Bridgette's hooked on the full menu, and she's grabbing both. Bridgette hikes up her skirt, flashing her smooth-shaved pussy. She hops onto the massage table, spreads those tanned legs wide, and waves Christy over to dive in. Christy goes at it with gusto, tongue working Bridgette's pussy like a pro. It doesn't take long before Bridgette's bucking and grinding her slick folds right on Christy's face, cumming hard with shudders that rattle the table. 'Not bad, kid,' Bridgette pants, then adds with a smirk, 'Now, massage time.' She strips off the rest of her clothes, letting those killer tits bounce free. She flips onto her stomach, and Christy drizzles oil over her back, kneading those tense muscles like a boss. Bridgette purrs for some love on her juicy ass, and Christy obliges, rubbing and squeezing that firm, round perfection. When Bridgette rolls over, Christy doesn't skip a beat—oil pours over those massive breasts as she grips and massages them, all eager hands and naughty intent. Figured it's time to level the playing field, Christy sheds her clothes too, dropping them in a heap to deliver top-shelf service. Bridgette whistles low at the masseuse's tight little frame. Christy climbs up, planting slow, teasing kisses on Bridgette's tits. The inspector grins wickedly and points south: 'Lower, sweetheart.' Christy slides down, buries her face between those legs again, and laps at the pussy like she's starving. Sure, she made the boss lady explode once, but Bridgette's got that cocky gleam—girl, the inspection's far from passed; the real fun's just revving up.