Honoring Her Legacy

Lydia Black and her ride-or-die pal Charlotte Sins push open the door to this dusty, deserted massage joint. It's all hers now, handed down from her old man who just kicked the bucket, but Lydia? She's got zero interest in playing boss. Hell, she wouldn't know a deep tissue rub from a handshake. Why flip her whole life for a gig she might suck at? She's half-tempted to slap a 'For Sale' sign on the place and wash her hands of the hassle. But Charlotte's not having it. 'Babe, you'll kick yourself if you ditch this,' she says, eyes sparkling with that unbreakable faith. She knows Lydia's got the spark—her parent saw it, and damn if Charlotte doesn't too. Everything's right there, oils and tables and all. So why not? Lydia, give me a massage. See if it clicks. Lydia's heart does a little flip at the pep talk, so she shrugs and dives in. Charlotte peels off every stitch, baring that killer body like it's no big deal. Lydia's hands hover at first, shaky as hell, but Charlotte's moans and 'yeah, right there' whispers kick her into gear. She starts gliding those fingers over Charlotte's smooth skin—down the curve of her back, kneading those firm ass cheeks, tracing the slick heat between her thighs. Surprise hits like a rush: Lydia's digging this. The power in her touch, the way Charlotte arches and sighs. A little more practice, and yeah, this place could be her playground. Buzzing with that fresh swagger, Lydia amps it up—sliding a finger into Charlotte's dripping pussy, working her clit with teasing circles while her other hand pinches a nipple just right. Charlotte's all in, gasping and bucking for that sweet release. Gratitude's got nothing on this naughty payoff.