The cool, yielding surface of the yoga mat was the only soft thing in the room. Everything else was hard angles and raw power. Sally was on her knees, a willing supplicant before two dark gods of iron and flesh. The air was thick with the scent of their sweat, a primal musk that coiled in her stomach and made her pussy clench. Gerome stood before her, his hands resting on her shoulders, his thumbs tracing the line of her collarbones. His cock, already free from his gym shorts, was a magnificent, semi-hard pillar of dark flesh, the thick vein running its length pulsing in time with her own frantic heartbeat.
