BBC Massage

Kimber Woods kicks around the house, bored as hell. Nothing's biting, so she thinks, screw it—let's hit that new massage spot down the block. She grabs the phone, rings up the receptionist, and stammers she's a total newbie, no clue what to pack. Girl says just bring your fine self. Appointment locked in, Kimber struts over. Ricky Johnson greets her at the door, flashing that easy smile. When he says he's the one rubbing her down, she blurts she's never had a guy's hands on her like that. Ricky chuckles, tells her to chill and strip down. He steps back in, and there's Kimber, clutching that towel like it's her last lifeline—nerves written all over her. He pries it away, tosses it aside, and coos she needs to melt into it. Shy as a kitten, she climbs onto the table face-down. Ricky slicks his palms with oil and gets to work, kneading her back smooth and deep, sliding down those legs, then gripping her ass like he owns it. Kimber's loving the heat, but tenses up when he suggests ditching the bra and panties. He swears it's just to keep the oil off 'em—no biggie. She peels them off, all reluctant. Back at it, his fingers magic her worries away, and she's purring under his touch. Ricky catches her peeking at the bulge in his pants, smirks and asks if she wants the full reveal. She plays coy at first, denies it flat-out. But he drops the bomb—it's part of the package, babe. Since she shelled out the cash, why not eyeball the goods? He whips it out, and Kimber's jaw drops—that monster's packing serious heat. Doesn't take long before she's drooling, gotta wrap her lips around it. Once she's fired up and squirming, she begs him to pound her senseless. Hey, it's his gig—he's all in, sliding that beast home.