Can't Resist Your Charm

Eric strolls into Soapy Massage Parlor with a handful of water bottles and runs right into Kortney—curves for days—at the front desk. "You owe me four hundred," he tells her flat. She nods, says she’ll fetch it, and heads upstairs. Minutes drag. He finally marches up, finds the door cracked, and gets an eyeful: Kortney in the shower, fingers working her slick pussy like it owes her money. She catches him watching, grins, and says he can fuck the debt away if he’s man enough. Clothes hit the tile. In the spray she lathers him head to toe, slides her soapy palms over every inch, then drops to her knees and slurps him down in one greedy gulp. Cock pulsing, she leads him to the wet mattress, climbs on, and slides her tight, oiled body up and down his back until his balls ache. She flips him, straddles, sucks and jacks in double-time, strokes every vein like she’s trying to squeeze rent out of his load. When he breaks, he blasts thick ropes across her tits and belly. She milks the last drops with a smirk. Four hundred bucks never came so hard.