Doing This For My Daughter

Ryan Driller steps into the massage parlor with purpose. Jasmine Jae comes around the corner and spots the uniform, eyes widening. 'Excuse me... can I help you, officer? You don't look like a typical massage client,' she says. He asks if she's Mrs. Jae, then drops the news—her daughter's locked up for shoplifting. No release without charges or bail money. Jasmine pleads. This was a one-time slip. A mistake. Her daughter is a good kid. Ryan shakes his head: nothing he can do. Jasmine keeps negotiating while her robe slips open, flashing silky lingerie underneath. His eyes drop immediately. 'I'm up here, honey,' she smirks. She offers a massage. Something for the boys in blue. Ryan gives in. She takes him to a private room and tries pulling off his clothes. He stops her—he can't let anyone near his loaded weapon. So he strips the belt and holster himself. Jasmine undresses him the rest of the way, running her hands down his chest. She leads him to the shower. Hands work over his body, fingers trailing lower. Her grip tightens around his cock. 'You know, I've got experience handling loaded weapons,' she says. He hesitates, then lets her stroke him. After a while she guides him onto the mat and drizzles oil across her tits. She places his hands on them, tells him to spread it. He works the oil in with slow, hungry strokes, commenting how perfect they feel. She returns the favor—oiling him up—then climbs on. Body sliding, skin slick, pressuring him just enough to keep his mind on what she wants. She leans in close, all tease: 'Remember, I'm only doing this for my daughter.'