Masseuse-In-Law

Taylor Wild’s stepping in for her buddy at this other parlor when the door opens and in walks her brother-in-law Charles Dera. Eyes go wide, grins turn sly. They both know the deal—he’s here for a slippery Nuru rub and she’s got the oil ready—but the whole family-tree thing sits there like a joke they’re both in on. “Probably shouldn’t,” she says, even as she ties her apron lower on her hips. “Won’t tell if you won’t,” he fires back, already pulling off his shirt. The excuses are paper-thin, and the heat between them starts cooking fast. She drizzles the warm gel across his chest, slides onto him tits-first, bodies gliding like they’ve done this a hundred times in another life. Every pass over his cock makes him thicker, every roll of her hips draws a low grunt out of him. Soon the sheet’s on the floor. She straddles his lap, sinks down, and they fuck right there on the massage table—slick, loud, filthy. Oil everywhere, moans bouncing off the walls, family secrets suddenly a lot more interesting. When they’re done and catching their breath, she just laughs, wipes a streak of gel off his abs, and whispers, “Our little secret, yeah?”