The Layover

Riley Reyes and April Snow, two flight attendants itching to unwind before their next hop. April's totally frazzled—new route, new crew, first time out. Her body's a coiled spring, tense as hell, and Riley spots it right away. She'd kill for a hotel massage, but they're booked solid. Tough luck? Nah, not with Riley around. She jumps in, offering to work those knots out herself during the layover. April blushes a bit, all shy at first, but damn, she caves. And once Riley's fingers dig in, April's melting like butter. Riley's hands are magic—skilled, sure, and teasing. But here's the kicker: every tense muscle April gives up amps up Riley's heat. She gets aroused slow and steady, pulse quickening under that pro touch. Riley flips the script, tells April to roll onto her front. She swings a leg over, straddling that fine ass, and the vibe turns downright dirty. Hands glide lower, tracing curves, building that electric buzz. Riley's bold now, teasing April's cheeks, whispering she can crank the relaxation up another notch. Who knew a massage could feel this naughty? April's flushed, body humming warm, and resistance? Toast. She gives in, letting the fire take over. Lips crash first—hot, hungry kisses that taste like forbidden fun. Then it's all hands and mouths diving deeper, tongues flicking over slick folds, savoring each other's pussies like it's the mile-high club on the ground. They unravel every bit of pent-up stress, grinding and gasping till they're spent. This layover? One for the naughty history books.