Vegas Hold-up

Hey guys, Tommy and I are kicking back, chatting about my wild days as a masseur at the Tricky Spa. Dude's never hit up one of those steamy spots and he's dying to dive in. Tommy's clueless on how to sneak in without looking like a total perv, so we hatch this killer scheme: he'll fake being a cop busting the joint. He's got the badge already—boom, we're golden. Plan's simple: Tommy storms in while I'm with a smoking hot blonde, demands she fucks him or it's cuffs time. Flawless con. At the hotel, in struts Cali Carter, this firecracker of a girl. I shoot Tommy a quick text—game on. Cali's a sorority chick in town for a wild weekend with her crew, but she burned through all her cash. Total broke-ass vibe, sitting there moping while her girls head to the club without her. I spot the opening and lay it on thick: suck me off, and I'll hook you up with a call to my buddy for some fun money. She bites hard, drops to her knees, and goes to town—sucking my cock deep, stroking it fierce and fast till I explode, painting her pretty face with my load. Bam—door flies open, Tommy charges in like a badass, shoves me out the door. Cali's freaking, swearing up and down nothing went down. Begging him, tears in her eyes, 'Don't drag me to jail, I'll do whatever!' To prove she's innocent, she yanks off Tommy's pants and wraps her lips around his dick, working it just as sloppy and intense as she did mine. Tommy flips her over the massage table, spreads those legs, and pounds her tight pussy raw, slamming in deep and relentless till he's busted his nut. Whew. Cali wants guarantees she's off the hook, so Tommy grins and spills it: fake cop, total setup. Holy shit, she loses it—furious as hell! —Tyler Nixon