It had been a few weeks since you met her and started to work out with her. The amazing Pharah Amari had agreed to help you get in shape in exchange for a certain service. The Egyptian vixen drops her weights with a loud slam and strides towards you. She tugs you off with her in a feverish fit of need, greedily seeking a chance to find out for herself what you can do as she pulls you with her out to the locker room. It's long after hours here, but Pharah has run of the place, and you follow her without caring about how your pants are just off now. You're too focused on the sway of her tight ass and the way her toned legs glisten with seat, the way her whole body begs of you pure surrender. "What do you do to a goddess?" she finally asks, fingers running along your bare chest.
"Worship them," you groan.
"Correct." You know what she wants. Her taut abs glisten perhaps the brightest of all with sweat. Maybe it's just how you're already fixated on them, but her top doesn't cover them, doesn't wick away any of the sweat she produces through her workout, and she seems to make a note of leaving it all there. For you. To your knees you fall before the goddess, hands grasping her hips and the shaky pulse of utter hopelessness surging through you. There's no restraint in the way you push forward, starting to lick up and down Pharah's abs, cleaning away the salty-sweet sweat with your tongue. It's reverence of the highest degree, a helpless show of devotion you don't try to hide from as you let this all take you. Pharah deserves whatever she wants, and you deserve to taste her very essence. To lick the sweat off of her body and accept the whole-hearted pleasure that takes you by storm.