The moment Mishy’s hands slid over my oiled-up back, I knew this wasn’t going to be a normal massage. Her touch was too slow, too deliberate—fingertips tracing my spine before digging in just hard enough to make me groan. When she straddled me, her bare thighs pressing against my hips, any pretense of professionalism vanished.
I flipped her over in one smooth motion, pinning her beneath me on the massage table. Her breath hitched as I kissed her, my hands slick with oil exploring every curve of her body. She was already wet when my fingers found their way between her legs, her hips arching off the table with a gasp.
“Fuck the massage,” she whispered, biting my earlobe as she reached for my cock. The warm oil made her grip slippery, her strokes slow and teasing at first, then urgent. I lifted her leg over my shoulder, driving into her in one deep thrust. The table creaked beneath us as I fucked her hard, her moans echoing in the dim room.
She came first, nails digging into my back, but I wasn’t far behind. When we finally collapsed, breathless and glistening, Mishy smirked and said, "And they say erobella girls don’t go the extra mile."
Best damn decision I ever made.
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