My Wife's Sister

Alina Lopez struts back from her vacation, all sun-kissed and smirking, right into the arms of her sister and good ol' Derrick Pierce. She's crashing with them for a bit, but damn, work calls—no time to kick back. Once the sisters bail from the room, Derrick's eagle eye catches a scrap peeking from her purse. He snatches it up, unfolds the paper, and boom—his sister-in-law's slinging sensual massages at some steamy parlor. Grinning like the devil, he figures he just has to drop by and see what the fuss is about. Over at the parlor, Alina's glued to her phone, booking slots like a pro, voice all sultry and efficient. In walks Derrick, bold as brass, but she's too locked in to clock him. 'Give me a sec, handsome,' she purrs to her client on the line. Then their gazes lock—zap. Her jaw drops. How the hell did he track her down? He flashes the ad he swiped from her bag, that cheeky proof in hand. 'So, what's the play here?' she demands, eyes narrowing with a mix of shock and spark. 'I want the full service from you, babe,' he shoots back, all cocky confidence. She throws up a hand—'You're married to my sister, remember?' He fires right back: 'Does she even know you run this naughty little operation?' Alina shakes her head, biting her lip. 'Fine, but clothes stay on in the shower—no stripping down.' He nods, playing along as she leads him to the massage nook, hips swaying like she's already winning. 'Clothes off, big guy—shower time first,' she instructs, her tone firm but teasing. They step under the warm spray, and she gets to work, hands gliding over his shoulders, down his back, kneading out the tension with expert fingers. They chat easy—weather, vacations, nothing heavy—but every rub sends a thrill zipping through her. Hell, it's her gig, so why fight the fun? No big guilt trip if she leans into it a little. Her palms slide lower, bolder, wrapping around his thickening cock. She strokes him slow and sure, pulse racing. 'God, I just can't keep my hands off you,' she whispers, voice husky. 'But this stays our dirty secret—sis never knows, and we're golden.'