My School Crush

Logan Long struts into the massage parlor, and Whitney Wright loses her shit. They go way back to high school, and of all the dudes who could've shown up at her job, it's him? He spots her and lights up, blurting out he had a massive crush on her back then and damn, he's pumped she's the one rubbing him down. She lays down the law—strictly pro, keep those shorts on—and he looks a little bummed but nods. She leads him to the back. Upstairs, she says strip to your boxers while I slip into this bathing suit. When she tells him to turn around for some privacy, the sly dog sneaks a peek at her killer curves. She spins back, and boom—he's buck naked, not a stitch. 'Where's your boxers?' she demands. He grins sheepishly: 'Wasn't wearing any to start with, didn't wanna spill that bean early.' Eye-roll city from her; she just wants this over fast, so she waves him to the shower. She soaps him up careful-like, keeping it clean. But then she's down on her knees, his thick cock hovering inches from her lips, and whoa—she shuts off the water quick. 'Bath time now.' He smirks: 'So how do clients really get worked in the bath?' She shoots back, 'It's all about those targeted muscles.' He chuckles, flashing his rock-hard dick: 'Got just the one in mind, babe.' Caught off guard, she grabs it on reflex and starts stroking him slow and steady. Heat's building in her; she's never laid eyes on a beast that size, and once it hits her, she bails on the bath pronto. Final phase: she gets him flat on his back, and resistance? Forget it. She needs that monster buried deep. Starts with her mouth wrapping around it, sucking like it's her new favorite toy—but hell, it's pussy-bound soon enough, pounding away till they both lose it.