Geeky Gamer

Tyler? Total couch slouch, glued to his controller like it's his lifeline. Guy barely sees sunlight—hell, probably hasn't stepped outside since the last boss fight. But his mom dangles a bribe, and boom, he's at the spa. August eyes him up, thinking, 'Alright, let's see if I can whip this gamer into shape.' Poor dude's sporting a raging hard-on he can't hide for shit. She starts easy, kneading those tense shoulders with a slick rubdown, oil gliding over his skin. But the tent in his shorts? Obvious. To throw him off balance, she sneaks under the table while he's planted there, plants his game console in front of him. 'Focus on that level, champ,' she purrs, all sly charm. He zones in on pixels, joystick twitching in his grip—perfect distraction. Under the cloth drape, her hands wrap around his throbbing cock, stroking firm and steady, twisting just right to make him buck. She amps it up, sliding her full tits around his shaft for a slippery titjob, squeezing and bouncing till he's gasping. Then she dives in, lips locking on, sucking deep and swirling her tongue over the head, hollowing her cheeks for that killer pull. Tyler's losing it, game forgotten mid-death, but August is on a mission—yank him outta his pixel prison, pump some real life into this shut-in. Hands, tits, mouth working overtime, she's rewriting his whole damn playbook. Think she pulls it off? Bet your ass she does.