Under the Radar

Robby Echo struts into his 6 o'clock slot, eyes wide like he's hit the jackpot. Alison Rey flashes a sly smile and hits him with, 'Any spots screaming for attention?' He's thrown off, blurting out, 'Wait, are there cameras in here?' She laughs it off, all baffled charm—no, of course not—and guides him to the table. But he pumps the brakes, mumbling about a mix-up. He booked this fancy-sounding massage he can hardly say. 'Nuru?' she guesses, and boom, his face lights up. That's the one, some buddy swore by it. She's pissed he didn't spell it out on the phone, so guess who's handling this herself? She clears the air, leads him to the back room for the full Nuru setup. 'Strip down, stud, time for step one,' she says. Robby doesn't hesitate—clothes fly off faster than a bad bet. They hit the shower, warm water steaming up the place. She dips her hands in, scoops it up, and lets it cascade over his arms, chest, every damn inch glistening. Her fingers wrap around his cock, stroking slow and teasing. 'Holy shit, I picked the winner,' he groans. She eases him onto the seat, pumps that dick with expert twists while their lips crash together in a hungry kiss. Back on the mat now—he's flat out, body oiled to hell and slick as sin. She slides all over him, skin on skin, gliding up his thighs, across his chest, teasing that growing heat. He's rock hard, throbbing with every pass. She dives down, sucks him deep, lips tight and swirling until he's straining. Then she mounts him, pussy gripping like a vice as she rides. He flips her over, pounds from behind—ass up, back arched—until he pulls out and unloads ropes of cum splashing her ass and back. One appointment? Yeah, this one's etched in his brain forever, no doubt.