Under The Hood

Marcus had the shittiest luck that morning. Car died, phone decided to join the party. Zero percent battery, zero options. He wandered up to some random door, hoping to borrow a charger, and ended up at this massage parlor instead. Claudia Valentine took one look at his miserable ass and offered him a session while he waited for the tow truck. Marcus wasn’t about to turn down a warm table and a few free minutes. She started him face-down, working the knots out of his back with firm hands, and it felt good—until she yanked the towel off like it owed her money. Then it was skin on skin, raw. Her tits dragged across his ass cheeks, slow and heavy. She poured oil over herself and climbed on, ass cheeks sliding up and down the back of his thighs, grinding like she was testing his restraint. Marcus felt her nipples scrape along his spine. A minute later she flipped him over without asking, straddled his hips, and slid that slick pussy right along the length of his cock. Not inside—just enough pressure to make his balls tighten. Claudia leaned forward, wrapped her oily tits around his shaft, and started stroking with both hands while her mouth hovered inches from the tip. Every time his dick poked through she gave it a wet kiss or a lazy lick. Marcus groaned, caught between wanting to grab her hips and knowing she was running the show. She didn’t rush. She made him wait, leaking pre-cum over her tongue, over her tits, until the teasing turned mean. Finally she dropped her mouth all the way down, swallowing him whole, cheeks hollowing as she bobbed with filthy, slick sounds. Marcus’s toes curled against the table. One hell of a tow-truck wait.