Manipulative Massage

Darcie Dolce had been playing the long game. She watched Samantha Rone walk into her studio and felt the heat settle low in her belly. Finally. She stripped the robe away like it was nothing and got Samantha face-down on the table, oil already warming between her palms. Her hands went straight for the prize. One slow stroke along the folds, then another, firmer. She felt the twitch, heard the catch in Samantha’s breath. Good. She kept rubbing in tight circles until the skin started to swell and slick up under her fingertips. Then she put her mouth on it. Flat tongue, broad lick, tasting what she’d made wet. Samantha jerked like she’d been slapped and tried to sit up. That resistance only made Darcie wetter. She pinned the hips with both hands and kept licking, deeper now, pulling the clit between her lips and sucking until Samantha’s protests melted into little choked sounds. The fight drained out fast after that. Samantha reached back, grabbed a fistful of Darcie’s hair, and shoved her face harder between her legs. Darcie grinned against the wet heat, tongue working faster. She climbed up, stripped naked in seconds, and slid her own slick cunt over Samantha’s thigh while she kept two fingers buried inside her. The table creaked. Oil smeared across skin. They ground against each other like they’d been starving for it—hips snapping, moans getting loud and ugly, fingers sliding through folds and pushing deep until both of them came hard, shaking and gasping, slick and spent. That’s what friends do.