I'll Change Your Mind, You'll See

Lulu Chu sits on the edge of the mattress, knee pressed against Hime Marie's thigh while they talk oil and hands and strangers' breath. Hime wrinkles her nose at the whole picture. Rubdowns at some fake-waterfall spa that smells like stale incense. Strangers dragging cold palms across her shoulders like they're checking fruit. She always leaves tens of bucks lighter and twice as wound up. Lulu just smiles, slow and cocky. 'Let me do it,' she says, 'and we see if you still hate it.' Hime rolls her eyes, calls it bullshit, then grins because losing never felt this tempting. Lulu's already fishing the bottle from under the bed. Mineral oil, slippery and warm once it hits skin. She jerks her chin. 'Clothes. Face-down.' Hime strips without ceremony, nipples tightening in the cooler air, then stretches out, cheek on folded arms. The first pour lands at the base of her neck and slides down her spine in a slow, shiny ribbon. Lulu spreads it with both palms, firm strokes, knuckles working tight muscle. She presses harder where ribs taper into hips, thumbs tracing the dimples above Hime's ass. No small talk now, only breath and the wet sound of skin moving against skin. Hime feels every nerve flare. Instead of drifting off she gets tighter, wetter. Her thighs shift; the sheet underneath is already damp where her cunt presses. Lulu notices. Her hands drift lower, spreading cheeks, slick fingers skating close to the heat but never quite giving it. Hime lifts her hips, chasing the touch. That's when Lulu leans close, lips brushing the shell of her ear. 'Happy ending?' A single knuckle drags the length of her slit, oil mixing with slick. Hime answers with a small, rough sound. Lulu sinks two fingers inside, curls, strokes steady while her other hand keeps working lube across Hime's lower back. Each thrust pushes Hime's belly against the mattress, clit catching the sheet. The rhythm stays even, filthy, focused. Oil glistens on inner thighs. Hime's toes curl. She can already feel it building, hot and heavy behind her eyes. By the time she comes, gasping into the pillow, she's admitted defeat with every shaky breath. Turns out massages aren't so bad when the hands belong to someone who knows exactly what you want and how hard to give it.