Mommy Fantasy

Ryan calls Nuru and lays it out plain: he wants the oldest, most motherly masseuse they've got. Silvia picks up the line and says no problem, then hangs up wondering what kind of client she just booked. The door swings open and the guy who walks through isn't just playing along. He's deep in it. Little-boy complaints hit first thing. "Mommy, you promised! You said if I was good you'd give me a real mommy-massage!" Silvia, towel still in her hair, realizes this ain't a quick joke—Ryan came to act. She strips him out of his clothes, tits swinging heavy. He stares like a kid seeing candy and grabs two handfuls, muttering about how they're the same ones he used to sneak glances at. She runs the shower, soaps his chest and his back, then drops her hand lower. That cock's already full stand, thick and twitching, and she squeezes and rinses every inch like she's got ownership. On her knees, mouth wide, she swallows him. Cock and balls fill her lips, tongue working the underside in long strokes. Ryan groans loud, knees shaking, one hand in her hair. She yanks off before he paints her tongue, leads him slick and dripping into the massage room. Oil gets pumped, the mat glistens. She crawls on top, tits first, slides her whole body across his back, then flips to straddle his chest. The head of his cock nudges her pussy lips; one good drop of her hips and he's buried to the balls. Ryan bucks hard, short fast strokes that punch every breath out of her. Silvia clamps down, rides it, fingers digging into his shoulders until the pulsing inside her sparks. When she's shaking through her orgasm he pulls free, pumps once, twice, and shoots ropes across her open mouth and cheeks—thick, hot, sliding down her chin while she licks at every drop.