Good Tension Release

So Tyler Cruise rolls up for the massage, right? Ivy Ireland’s got the table prepped and the oil warmed when she starts working on him. The second she hits the hip drapes her fingers brush something stiff and pretty substantial. She freezes for half a second, grin sliding across her face like she just found the winning ticket. Next thing, her hands slip under the towel, curious as hell. Tyler’s cock is thick and already throbbing, heavy in her palm. He lifts up on his elbows, cocky little smirk playing at the corner of his mouth, like “yeah, it’s all yours.” Ivy doesn’t waste time, peels the towel back and dives right in—warm lips wrapping around the swollen head, tongue dragging underneath. She sucks slow at first, getting used to the size, then takes him deeper, cheeks hollowing, spit running down his shaft. Her hand works the part she can’t fit, sloppy and eager. Every wet pop of her mouth is louder than it needs to be, but neither of them cares. Ivy’s moaning now, like she’s the one getting spoiled. She pulls off just long enough to say “fuck” soft and filthy, then slides right back down until her nose brushes his stomach. Tyler lets her play for a bit, then hooks a hand behind her neck and gently starts fucking her throat in little thrusts. They don’t even pretend this is still a massage anymore; she’s on her knees between his legs, drooling, mascara smudging, totally in the zone.