Back in the High Life

Brett Rossi lies sprawled on the table, a small manual massager pressed between her thighs while she waits for the therapist. Anna De Ville opens the door and catches the law student mid-stroke. The mood shifts fast—Brett snaps that she’s wound tight and needs to get off, then realizes the girl in scrubs used to sit two rows behind her in Torts. Anna blurts out she dropped out. Brett waves it away like cheap wine. “Zip’s at the bottom,” she orders, peeling the red skirt up over her hips. The seam parts, flashing the bare strip of cunt beneath. Clothes come off in impatient tugs; she plants her knees, ass high, and demands the happy ending. Anna shakes her head—no extras. Brett laughs, half disbelief, half challenge. “Everyone here knows the drill. Touch me.” When the masseuse offers to swap, Brett blocks the door: “You. Full body. Strip.” Anna’s shirt hits the floor. The slacks come next under Brett’s smirk and running commentary. Anna’s palms, slick with oil, work over the law student’s tits until the breath catches. Brett murmurs she used to watch Anna across the lecture hall. Anna swings a leg over, settling her wet pussy on Brett’s lap while she keeps kneading the breasts. That first contact cracks whatever restraint is left. Brett shoves forward, tongue splitting Anna’s folds, licking until Anna’s thighs clamp and she comes hard. The favor flips; Anna drops between Brett’s knees, mouth sealing over slick heat, fingers working inside until Brett shudders. They grind together, tribbing, sweat and oil shining on skin. When they flip again they’re rimming each other, tongues circling tight holes while fingers stay knuckle-deep in cunt. Brett ends on Anna’s face, grinding down until the last orgasm rolls through her in wet, breathless pulses.