The Italian Beauty

Tyler Nixon's a bundle of nerves, heart pounding like a drum. First Nuru massage ever, and the guy's clueless about the wild ride ahead. He paces in front of the mirror, mumbling his script, sweat trickling down his temples like he's facing a firing squad. He rolls up to the appointment and can't zip his lips—blabbering away. The receptionist chuckles, says he looks jittery but swears it's all good, nothing to sweat. Then boom, Valentina Nappi struts into the lobby to fetch him. Tyler damn near loses it—she's smoking hot, curves that could stop traffic. She clocks his rookie status, smirks, and waves him along with a laugh. They hit the room, and she lays it out: Nuru's all about slippery, full-contact bliss. She peels off her clothes for the shower, and Tyler's eyes bulge like cartoon saucers. 'Your turn,' she says, stripping him bare. Holy hell, he thinks, jackpot! Water blasts on, she soaps him up, hands roaming every inch. Tension melts away as he chills under her touch. Down she goes on her knees, wrapping fingers around his cock, stroking slow and firm. Nerves spike back up—whoa, what's this? 'Full body, remember?' she teases, then sucks him deep, lips working magic. They shift to the mat, slick and ready. Valentina straddles him, grinding her wet pussy along his skin, teasing every nerve. She slicks herself with oil, bodies gleaming, then slides up and down his frame like silk on steel. 'Flip over,' she purrs. On his back now, she glides her tits and hips over his rock-hard dick, building that fire. It's throbbing, primed. She guides it in, riding him tight and fierce. Balls tighten—he's close. He pulls out, thrusts between her perfect tits, and unloads ropes of cum right onto her waiting tongue. She laps it up with a wicked grin.