Massage Virgin

Hey, check out Cassidy Klein strutting into her first massage session with Marcus London. The guy's all smiles, welcoming this fresh-faced newbie like she's the highlight of his day. She's a bundle of nerves, blushing like crazy, but Marcus keeps it cool—gentle touches, laser-focused on easing her worries. She spills that no one's ever seen her buck naked before, and get this: she's gotta call her mom to confirm she went full monty with the treatment. Marcus raises an eyebrow—weird flex, but hey, parents and their quirks, right? He hands her a towel, tells her to strip down and get comfy. Cassidy's heart's pounding, eyes darting like she's expecting a peeping tom to crash the party. She hops on the table, but oops—still rocking her bra, panties, and those knee-high stockings like some shy schoolgirl fantasy. Marcus pops back in, all polite charm: 'Mind ditching those? They're cramping my style on this rubdown.' He dives in, kneading her legs and that sweet backside with pro moves. 'Flip over, let's hit the front,' he says. She dodges it sweet-like, mumbling about not needing back work—total cover for her jitters. Marcus ups the ante: 'Stand up, gorgeous. Ditch the glasses, shake out that hair.' He strokes her cheek, fingers tangling in her locks. 'You're a knockout—nothing to hide from.' Damn, he's hooked now, eyes devouring her. Cassidy melts, towel hits the floor, and bam—she leans in for her very first kiss, lips crashing against his with that wide-eyed hunger. She's fired up, begging for the next level. Marcus peels off her panties, lays her back on the table, spreads those thighs wide. His tongue dives straight for her smooth-as-sin shaved pussy lips, lapping and teasing till she shudders through her first clit-busting orgasm—girl's arching like a live wire. Not done yet, she whispers, 'Show me yours.' He whips it out, no games, guiding her soft hands and mouth along his throbbing dick. She strokes and sucks like a natural, but her eyes scream more—gimme that cock in me. Virgin territory, tight as hell. He eases in slow, inch by inch into her slick heat, then picks up the pace—gliding, thrusting, building to a frenzy. Cassidy's moaning loud, lost in the bliss, as he buries deep and growls he's blowing his load. She's beaming, high on the rush—bet you a buck she'll be back pounding on his door for round two, you sly minx.