Category: Anna

Coffee and Cake

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the sweet scent of carrot cake as Anna stirred her latte, her eyes flicking up to meet Debs’ across the small café table. It was their usual pre-yoga ritual, coffee, cake, and a good gossip. The morning sun streamed through the window, casting a warm glow over Debs’ freckled cheeks, which were already beginning to flush as the conversation took a predictable turn.

“So,” Anna said, smirking over the rim of her cup, “Richard. The man every woman in class is secretly, or not so secretly, dying to take home. You left with him last week, didn’t you?”

Debs’ spoon clinked against her mug a little too loudly. She avoided Anna’s gaze, focusing instead on slicing her cake into precise, tiny bites. “Yeah, well… we walked out together. No big deal.”

Anna raised an eyebrow, leaning forward. “No big deal? Debs, you’re practically glowing. What happened? Spill.”

Debs’ flush deepened, creeping down her neck. “He… uh, he offered to give me a massage. My hip’s been acting up, you know that.”

“A massage?” Anna’s tone was teasing, her eyes glinting with mischief. “And how did that go?”

“It was… good. Really good.” Debs shifted in her seat, her voice dropping. “He’s got strong hands. Fixed my hip right up.”

Anna grinned, sensing there was more. “Strong hands, huh? Did they wander anywhere… interesting?”

Debs’ face was now a vivid shade of pink. She took a sip of coffee, stalling. “Well… let’s just say it wasn’t just my hip he took care of.”

Anna’s grin widened. She leaned in closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “So, what you’re saying is… he gave you a little extra relief? A proper hand job?”

Debs choked on her coffee, coughing into her napkin. “Anna! God, keep it down!” But her eyes sparkled as she murmured, “It was… fantastic. Okay? Leave it at that.”

Anna chuckled, satisfied for now. She wasn’t about to push further and risk Debs clamming up, or revealing something even juicier, like how Richard’s cock had definitely played a starring role. Instead, she shifted the topic. “Speaking of aches, my leg’s still killing me. That damn hamstring.”

Debs, relieved to move on, seized the chance. “You should try Richard. Seriously. He’s magic.”

Anna’s lips twitched. “Magic, huh? Maybe I will.”

Yoga Class

The yoga studio buzzed with quiet chatter as Anna and Debs arrived, spotting Richard just outside the changing room. He gave them a nod, his dark hair falling slightly over his forehead, and the three of them walked in together. Normally, Debs and Anna flanked Richard in the second row, but today Anna veered off, claiming a mat in the front row, directly in front of him. Debs shot her a questioning look, one eyebrow arched. Anna just winked.

In the women’s changing room, Debs watched as Anna peeled off her jeans and slipped into a pair of loose grey shorts, short enough to turn heads, baggy enough to leave plenty to the imagination. What caught Debs off guard, though, was the lack of underwear beneath them. No knickers, no thong, nothing. Anna’s top was equally casual, a loose tank that hung off her frame, and, another surprise, no bra. Debs blinked. “Going for the minimalist look today?”

Anna shrugged, adjusting her shorts with a sly smile. “Comfort, Debs. It’s all about comfort.”

During the class, Debs couldn’t help but sneak glances at Anna. Every downward dog, every warrior pose, seemed calculated. Anna’s shorts gaped just so, her top shifted to reveal the curve of her breast, all perfectly angled to give Richard an eyeful from his spot behind her. Debs bit back a smirk. Her friend was shameless.

After class, as they rolled up their mats, Debs caught Richard by the arm. “Hey, Anna’s been complaining about her leg. That hamstring’s still bothering her. Maybe you could give her one of your… special massages?”

Richard’s brows shot up, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before he masked it with a grin. “Yeah, sure. I’d be happy to help.”

Anna, overhearing, flashed a smile. “That’d be great. Shall we?” She didn’t wait for an answer, grabbing her bag and heading out with Richard in tow. Debs watched them go, shaking her head. She had a feeling Anna’s leg wasn’t the only thing about to get some attention.

Massage

The room was dim, lit only by a soft lamp in the corner, as Anna lay face-up on Richard’s massage table. A small hand towel rested across her hips, barely covering her pussy, leaving the rest of her bare. Richard’s hands had already worked wonders on her thigh, kneading the tight muscle until the ache melted away. She sighed, sinking deeper into the table.

“Anywhere else need attention?” Richard asked, his voice low and professional, though there was a hint of something else beneath it.

Anna met his gaze, her lips curling into a slow smile. “Yes, actually.” With a flick of her wrist, she cast the towel aside, letting it fall to the floor. Her legs parted slightly, just enough to make her invitation clear.

Richard’s eyes darkened, but he didn’t hesitate. He stepped closer, his hands hovering for a moment before settling into place.

Fingers

His fingers moved with precision, tracing the contours of her inner thighs before sliding upward. Anna’s breath hitched as he brushed against her clit, a feather-light touch that sent a jolt through her. “There,” she murmured, her voice husky. “A little firmer. Circles.”

Richard obeyed, his thumb pressing into her clit, moving in slow, deliberate circles. She arched slightly, guiding him. “Yes, like that. Now… inside. Curl your fingers up, there’s a spot…”

He slid two fingers into her, curling them as instructed, and found it, the ridged patch of her G-spot. She gasped, her hips bucking as he stroked it, his thumb still working her clit in tandem. The sensation built fast, a tight coil of heat in her core. “Faster,” she breathed, and he complied, his rhythm relentless.

The first orgasm hit her like a wave, crashing through her body, her thighs trembling as she clenched around his fingers. She barely had time to catch her breath before he adjusted his angle, pressing harder against her G-spot. “Again,” she demanded, and he didn’t disappoint. The second climax ripped through her, sharper and deeper, leaving her panting, her skin slick with sweat.

Mouth

Before she could fully recover, Richard shifted. His hands parted her thighs wider, and then his mouth was on her, hot, wet, and impossibly skilled. His tongue flicked over her clit, teasing at first, then settling into a steady rhythm that made her moan. Two fingers slipped back inside her, her pussy now drenched, and he curled them again, hitting that sweet spot with every thrust.

Anna’s world narrowed to the sensations: the slick heat of his tongue, the stretch of his fingers, the way her body seemed to melt and ignite all at once. He sucked gently on her clit, and she cried out, her hands fisting the sheet beneath her. The first orgasm came hard, a full-body shudder that left her gasping. He didn’t stop, his tongue swirling faster, his fingers pumping deeper, and a second climax followed, even more intense, her vision blurring as she rode it out.

Rest

Richard pulled back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and shifted to a gentler touch. His hands returned to her body, starting with her calves, which had tightened into hard knots from her earlier convulsions. He kneaded them with slow, firm pressure, his thumbs digging into the muscle until she felt the tension unravel. The room was quiet save for the soft rustle of his movements and her own steadying breaths, the air cool against her sweat-slicked skin.

He moved to her feet next, pressing his thumbs into the arches with a rolling motion that drew a low sigh from her lips. The sensation was grounding, almost meditative, as he worked each toe, stretching them gently to release the last vestiges of strain. “Still with me?” he asked, his voice a warm murmur that seemed to vibrate through the table.

“Barely,” she replied, her words thick with languor. “Keep going.”

He chuckled, a soft sound that made her smile despite herself, and shifted his attention to her thighs. His palms swept over them in long, soothing strokes, smoothing out the tremors that lingered from her earlier exertion. The oil he’d rubbed into his hands earlier left a faint scent of lavender, mingling with the musk of her own arousal, and she inhaled deeply, letting it anchor her. He lingered on her hamstrings, coaxing the muscles into submission with a patience that felt almost reverent, his fingers tracing the lines of her body like an artist perfecting a sketch.

“Roll over,” he said after a while, his tone calm but carrying a quiet authority. She complied, flipping onto her stomach with a lazy stretch, her limbs heavy and pliant. He started on her back, his hands gliding over her spine, the heels of his palms pressing into the tight spots along her shoulder blades. She groaned softly as he worked a particularly stubborn knot, the ache dissolving under his touch. His fingers fanned out, kneading her shoulders with a rhythm that lulled her deeper into relaxation, then trailed down her arms, stretching them out to the sides and massaging the muscles until they felt like liquid.

He moved lower, his hands settling on the curve of her lower back, just above her hips. His thumbs pressed into the dimples there, circling slowly, and she felt a shiver of relief ripple through her. He lingered, working the area with care, his touch firm yet tender, until every ounce of tension had melted away. By the time he finished, she was a puddle on the table, her breathing slow and even, her body utterly surrendered to the calm he’d crafted.

Cock

He stood at her head, finishing her shoulders, when Anna reached up, her fingers hooking into the waistband of his trousers. She tugged them down, revealing a thick, rigid cock that sprang free, its tip glistening as she pulled back the foreskin, veins pulsing along its length. She leaned forward to take him in her mouth, her lips brushing the velvety head, but he stepped back, a faint, teasing smile on his lips.

He moved to her feet. Still face-down, she felt his hands, warm and firm, part her thighs, his thumbs grazing the sensitive skin where her legs met her hips. He climbed onto the table, his weight dipping the surface slightly as he settled between her legs, pushing them wider until she was fully exposed. His fingers lingered for a moment, tracing her slick entrance, before she felt the blunt, hot tip of his cock nudge against her.

He guided himself with one hand, the other gripping her hip, and pressed forward. The first inch stretched her deliciously, the thick head breaching her with a slow, deliberate push that made her moan into the table. He paused, letting her adjust to his size, then slid deeper, his shaft filling her inch by inch until he was buried to the hilt. She felt every ridge, every pulse of him inside her, the pressure exquisite against her still-sensitive walls.

He began to move, drawing back until just the tip remained, then thrusting forward with a long, measured stroke. The angle was perfect, his cock dragged against her G-spot with every pass, reigniting the fire he’d stoked earlier with his fingers. She clenched around him, her breath hitching as he set a rhythm, slow at first, letting her feel the full length of him sliding in and out. The tip of his cock seemed to kiss that sweet spot each time, a deep, throbbing sensation that built with every thrust.

“Harder,” she gasped, and he obliged, his hips snapping forward with more force, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the room. Her body rocked against the table, her fingers curling into the sheet as the pleasure intensified. The heat coiled tight in her core, and then it snapped, an explosive orgasm that tore through her, her pussy spasming around him, milking his cock as she cried out. The sensation was overwhelming: the way his thick shaft stretched her, the relentless pressure on her G-spot, the slick friction as he kept moving through her climax.

He didn’t stop. His hands gripped her hips tighter, lifting her slightly to deepen the angle, and she felt him shift inside her, the tip of his cock now hitting even more precisely. Another orgasm built almost instantly, spurred by the memory of his fingers and the reality of his cock, its girth, its heat, the way it pulsed inside her. She came again, harder this time, her vision sparking white as her body trembled beneath him, her moans turning to breathless whimpers.

Richard slowed for a moment, letting her catch her breath, but then resumed with long, steady strokes, each one drawing out the aftershocks until she was teetering on the edge again. The sensation of his cock moving inside her, the smooth glide of the tip, the stretch of her walls, the deep, rhythmic pressure, pushed her into a state of near-constant climax. One orgasm bled into the next, her body shaking, her voice raw as she surrendered to the relentless pleasure, lost in the feel of him driving her higher with every thrust.