Krystal

Eric swings by Soapy Massage to shake off the ache from pounding the pavement on the sports field—those tense muscles are screaming for mercy. He locks eyes with Krystal, that firecracker with her skinny, sexy frame, and they seal the deal on the 'special package.' No time to waste; they strip down, Eric's gaze glued to her lithe curves, drinking in every inch like it's his last sip. In the steamy shower, they lather each other up, hands roaming slick and bold. Krystal's fingers work his rock-hard cock, scrubbing it slow and teasing—damn, Eric's throbbing, one wrong move from blowing his top right there in the spray. They slip into the jacuzzi next, bubbles churning wild. Eric props his sore feet up, grinding them against her soft, perky nipples, that naughty friction sending sparks flying. She's got him hooked, wriggling and smiling like she knows she's got the upper hand. On the massage table, Krystal takes charge, her smooth legs and killer body sliding all over him in a slippery symphony. She rubs, grinds, owns every tense spot until Eric can't hold back—unloads everywhere, bucking like a champ. He's already plotting his encore, grinning as he catches his breath.