Swine Flu

TJ, that sharp-eyed health inspector, picks up the phone and dials Rayveness's massage parlor, all business about scheduling a spot to eyeball the girls for swine flu signs. Rayveness ain't around, so Nikki jumps in with her smooth voice, offering him a free rubdown to kill time while he waits. TJ smirks, why the hell not? They slip into the dimly lit massage room, the air thick with that mix of oils and anticipation. Nikki's hands start innocent enough on his shoulders, but things heat up quick—her fingers dig in deep, teasing out knots while she presses her curves against him, whispering how she'll make him forget all about inspections. TJ chuckles, flipping the script by grabbing her hips, pulling her onto the table for some slippery, grinding fun. She rides him hard, tits bouncing as she moans like it's the best damn checkup ever, their bodies slick and slamming together in a frenzy of laughs and lust. By the time they're done, panting and spent, TJ's got a grin wider than his clipboard—swine flu? Nah, just pure, naughty satisfaction.