Stag Party

Ryan Driller struts into the massage parlor rocking a hilarious t-shirt screaming he's about to get hitched. Blindfolded and stumbling like a drunk pirate, he's got his two buddies flanking him, grinning like idiots. 'Are we there yet?' he gripes, arms flailing. One pal chuckles, 'Almost, man... just a few more steps.' The other yanks off the blindfold with a dramatic 'Ta-da!' Ryan blinks around, totally lost. 'Where the hell are we?' A buddy slaps his back. 'Massage parlor, bro!' Ryan's face crashes—pure letdown. 'For real? I figured casino or strip club, something epic...' His friends fake offense, then roast him hard. 'What, you don't trust your groomsmen? Your best bros hooking you up for the ultimate stag bash?' He plays it up, hemming and hawing. 'A massage? Kinda prissy, right?' Cue the roughhousing—shoves and laughs all around. The guys sling their arms over him and march him to the counter like conquering heroes. The groomsmen spot Kira Noir behind the desk and toss out Ryan's name. 'He's got an appointment.' Kira cracks up at the rowdy trio, eyes his shirt, and flashes a sly smile. 'Getting married soon?' Ryan nods, smirking. 'Yup, wrapping up my stag weekend.' No stripper this time—his geniuses opted for a massage instead. 'No shade on you, Kira, but I'd kill for a dancer.' Buddies howl, insisting he trust the plan. Kira's all amusement, no hard feelings. 'Wanna know what kind of massage?' One friend leans in, voice dripping tease: 'Nuru massage...' Ryan squints. 'Noo-roo? Come on, that's fake as hell! Gag gift?' Kira sets him straight—it's legit, and his pals nailed it. 'Way better than some lap grind,' she winks, ushering him to the private room. The buddies whoop, wolf-whistle, and cheer like it's game day. Ryan's red-faced, but they high-five behind him, mission accomplished. In the shower room, Ryan's baffled. 'Why a shower?' Kira's cool: 'Part of the deal—super relaxing.' He's iffy but strips when she says so, turning away like a gentleman. Spins back—and bam, she's buck-naked too! He jolts, slapping one hand over his eyes for her tits, then the other for her pussy. 'What the fuck?' She stays chill. 'Nuru style—we shower together. I wash you, then massage right here. All in the package your boys bought. Loosen up, stud.' Hesitant, he steps in; she follows. He averts his eyes from her killer curves, rambling about his amazing bride-to-be tomorrow—the woman he'll cherish forever. He's dead serious, but damn, those peeks slip in. Kira nods, soaping him up. 'Lucky guy—everyone needs that love.' Ryan's dick betrays him, stiffening fast. Embarrassed silence till her fingers tease his shaft. 'Hey, cut that out—' She cuts in: 'Stag night, right? Last hurrah? Bit of fun's tradition. Stays our secret. Your groomsmen get it, or they wouldn't book this hot ticket.' Her grip tightens, pumping his throbbing cock. Ryan caves, eyes shut, moaning low. She ramps it up; he gasps, breathless. 'Feels fucking incredible.' Kira grins wicked. 'Just the warmup, big boy. Clean enough—let's hit the next level.' He trails her out, hooked. She points to the inflatable mattress. 'Lie down.' Ryan's thrown. 'No table with the ass hole?' Kira laughs. 'Not Swedish—this is Nuru, way closer, skin-on-skin vibes.' Skeptical, he flops face-down. She slathers on the slick gel; he jumps at first, then melts. 'Damn, that's smooth,' he mutters as her hands roam every inch. Body sliding kicks in—he chuckles, surprised. 'Whoa, you weren't bullshitting. This is next-level close!' Flip to his back, and she's gliding over him, cock rock-hard. Kira's on a mission, grinding to seal the deal, zeroing on his dick. 'Happy ending?' He pauses—till she drags her wet pussy along his length. Game over. He thrusts up, burying his cock deep inside her. Last night of freedom before the ring? Ryan's squeezing every throbbing second.