His Happy Ending

Jasmine rolls in expecting an ordinary rub-down, Romeo plans to deliver the usual professional service, yet the second she drops that robe he knows he's fucked. Her tits are ridiculous, her accent goes straight to his dick, and her little wet pussy is already glistening. It's been months since he's touched anyone and the pressure builds behind his zipper until he mutters an excuse and bolts for the bathroom. He thinks he's alone, cock in fist, breathing through his teeth, when the door creaks. Jasmine catches him mid-stroke, lips parted, eyebrows high, and the next second she's on her knees because the poor bastard looks like he might explode. She wraps her hand around him, strokes like she owns the damn thing, tongue flicking the head while she tells him not to worry - getting his load out now means they can finish the massage clean. Romeo tries to mumble about boundaries, about being a gentleman, but Jasmine's got his balls in her grip and purpose in her eyes. She stands, guides him straight into her soaked cunt, rides him until the tension in his balls snaps and he paints her insides. Mission accomplished, they wash up, he steadies his breathing, and they head back to the table like nothing happened - though both of them know the room smells like sex now, not lavender oil.