His B-Day Nuru Wish

Isiah Maxwell loves a slippery pair of hands on his skin. Any kind of massage drives him crazy. Sophia Locke always lets him have it. Tonight she slides Gal Ritchie through their front door on his birthday. The two women oil up and drop their robes right on the living-room floor. Gal climbs onto Sophia first, sliding chest to back in a slow Nuru grind that leaves both of them glistening. Their breasts and bellies meet, lube shining, every slick stroke louder than the last. They roll together in the warm puddle, fingers disappearing between thighs, lips brushing wet skin. Isiah watches from the couch, hand already down his sweats, breath ragged. The sight breaks him. He stands, drops the sweats, and steps barefoot into the oil. Three bodies slide in one fevered knot—hands everywhere, mouths hot, hips searching. Sophia pulls him down, wraps her legs around his waist. Gal lines him up and he sinks into Sophia while she kisses him open-mouthed. Gal straddles Sophia’s face, grinding against her tongue, moaning in time with every thrust Isiah gives his girlfriend. They switch and change with slick abandon, every position offered and taken. The room fills with slapping skin, oil-slick gasps, the wet sound of bodies colliding. Isiah finishes hard between them, undone, breathless, exactly where he wants to be.