Extra Oil Please

Georgia Jones couldn't wrap her head around how her secret massage oil was blowing up—fresh shipment from overseas, and word was spreading like wildfire. She rolled her eyes at all the buzz about it being some killer aphrodisiac, straight fire that turns anyone into a horny mess. Yeah, right. Then came her last client, who lost her damn mind mid-massage, lunging at Georgia like a wildcat and straight-up pleading, 'Fuck me, please!' Georgia hangs up with her buddy just as the door swings open, and in struts this blonde stunner, all curves and confidence waiting to crack. Adriana Sephora's got that shy vibe, cheeks flushing as she mumbles for Georgia to turn around while she strips down—adorable, really, but Georgia's already plotting to slather her special oil on this knockout. Hands gliding smooth over Adriana's back and legs, Georgia checks in, making sure she's all comfy and buzzing. Adriana melts into it, low moans slipping out with every stroke, heat building fast, tingles racing everywhere that make her squirm. No clue what's got her this fired up, but hell yeah, she digs it—arousal cranking higher, craving whatever comes next. Georgia smirks, sensing the green light; she amps it up, kneading that firm ass and teasing those inner thighs, fingers dancing inches from Adriana's dripping pussy. Adriana's done playing coy—she spreads wide, practically begging for Georgia to dive in and work her lesbian magic on that eager slit, kicking off her first steamy girl-on-girl ride.