Massage by Bunny

So there’s this clueless guy, flat on his back for a routine home massage from Bunny, the pro who's got killer hands and zero chill around him. She’s eyeing his ripped bod from the jump, pulse racing like she just hit the gym. Starts normal enough—working those knots out of his shoulders with firm, teasing strokes that linger a beat too long. But damn, she’s hooked. Her fingers 'slip' down his chest, brushing his nipples like it’s no big deal, while he’s just chilling, eyes closed, thinking it’s all part of the service. She flips him over to his stomach, oil slicking up his thighs as she kneads deep into those hamstrings. Oops—her hand grazes his balls through the towel, a quick 'accident' that makes her smirk to herself. He shifts a little but says nothing, totally in the zone. Bunny’s getting bolder now, her breaths coming hot and heavy. She presses her hips against his side while rubbing his lower back, letting him feel the heat from her body without him clocking it. By the time she’s on his glutes, it’s straight-up filthy. Fingers dipping under the towel edge, stroking the crease where ass meets thigh, circling closer to his cock with every pass. She’s practically dripping with want, whispering little excuses like 'just loosening you up' as her touch turns deliberate—full-on palming his hardening length, slow and slick, while he stays blissfully oblivious, moaning softly like it’s the best rubdown ever. Bunny’s playing with fire, and she loves every naughty second.