I stare openly, drinking her in, and the effect is instantaneous: my cock lurches against the inside of my shorts, a visible twitch that even she can’t pretend not to notice. A spot of clear fluid leaks out and stains the black fabric, a dark splotch spreading over the head.
Mary Kate looks down at my lap, then back up at me, all innocence and mischief. “Well,” she says, “I guess we both agree that it’s hot in here.”
I can’t help it—I reach out, both hands, and cup her rounded hips, fingers spanning the wide flare on either side. Her skin is fever-hot, impossibly soft, and I want nothing more than to yank her down onto my lap, to bury myself in her and grind until we’re both ruined. But tonight, she’s in charge. I’ve given her that, whether she knows it or not.
She steps forward, pressing her belly to my face, and then bends at the knees, sliding down until she’s kneeling on the lower bench between my thighs. The view is obscene: her breasts are enormous, nipples so hard they look carved from marble, her mouth just inches from my cock. She reaches for the tray of oil on the bench behind me, takes the bottle of honey-musk, and pours a little into her palm.
“Let’s try this in a seated position,” she coos, voice soft and honeyed. “No massage table tonight. It’ll be more immersive, don’t you think?”
I nod, throat dry, unable to speak. I lean back, bracing my elbows against the cedar, and watch as she rubs her hands together, warming the oil, then reaches for the waistband of my shorts.
She tugs them down, slow, and my cock springs free, angry and red and already leaking at the tip. It’s so hard it aches, veins dark under the skin, head swollen and shiny. The shorts drop to my ankles and I kick them away, leaving me as naked as her, our bodies mirrored in sweat and need.
The beautiful blonde doesn’t hesitate—she wraps one hand around the shaft, the other cradling my balls, and starts working the oil into my skin with long, confident strokes. Her grip is firm but gentle, perfectly balanced, and the sensation is immediate: pleasure blooming from the base of my spine, radiating out to my toes.
“Fuck baby,” I groan. “You stroke me so good.”
She smiles and giggles a bit, big breasts bouncing.
“Good, because I love to practice.”
The heat of the room amplifies everything. Every inch of my skin is awake, hypersensitive, and the slick noise of her palms on my flesh sounds loud as thunder. I groan, deep in my chest, and watch as her breasts sway with each motion, nipples bobbing in time with her hands.
“Goddamn, sweetheart,” I rasp, unable to hold back. “You’re a fucking goddess.”
She looks up at me, eyes wide and blue, and smiles—a secret smile, like she’s learned something about me no one else knows. “You’re easy to please, Daddy. I like that.”
She continues, pace steady, hands alternating between the shaft and the balls, kneading them with a rhythm that’s almost hypnotic. Every now and then, she lets her fingers glide lower, tracing the seam underneath, then back up to the tip where the pre-cum is now running freely.
She leans in, closer, and this time when she brings her face to my cock, she doesn’t pause or ask. She drags her tongue across the tip, slow and deliberate, collecting the bead of fluid before flicking it into her mouth. She holds my gaze as she does it, and the sight nearly undoes me.
Then, without warning, she opens her mouth and slides the head of my cock past her lips, sucking it in with a slow, luxurious motion. She goes just far enough to cover the crown, then pulls back, tongue swirling, before plunging down again, deeper this time.
“Fuck, baby,” I groan again. “Oh shit shit shit.”
My hand finds her hair, fingers curling into the golden strands. I don’t force her, don’t even try, but she lets me hold her there, lets me guide her rhythm with a subtle pressure. She bobs her head, slow at first, then faster, building a pace that matches the pounding of my own heart.
The steam hisses, the clock ticks, and the only other sound is the wet slide of her mouth on my cock. I’m sweating everywhere, the drops running down my chest, but I don’t care. I’m lost in the sensation, in the sight of this beautiful girl, nude and hungry, sucking me off like she was born for it.
A low, rough moan escapes my lips, and she looks up at me, eyes sparkling, as she sinks even deeper, gagging just a little before pulling back, spit dripping from her lips.
“You like it?” she asks, breathless.
I can barely speak. “Fuck, Mary Kate. You know I love it.”
She smiles, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, and dives back in, both hands now stroking what her mouth can’t take. The oil makes everything slippery, decadent, obscene, and I can feel my orgasm building, relentless, impossible to stop.
I squeeze her shoulder, warning her, but she ignores it—she just sucks harder, hollowing her cheeks, milking me for all I’m worth. But I’m not going to let Mary Kate get the upper-hand. Not when it’s still so early in the night.
She’s still sucking feverishly when I grab her by the hips and lift—she squeals, but it’s more surprise than protest, her hands catching on my thighs as I haul her up. The motion is easy, even with her full weight; I’m a big man and she’s light, but the rotation surprises her because instead of lifting her right side up, I spin her around so that her knees are on my shoulders, my cock still deep in her throat.
“Mmmph!” she squeals, upside down. “Ummmph!”
“That’s it,” I growl. “I need your pussy sweetheart, and a vertical 69 is the best way to get it.”
With that, I bury my face in her pussy, breathing her in—hot, sweet, just a little tang of salt from the sweat. Her thighs clamp tighter as I start lapping, slow at first, teasing her pussy lips apart, tasting her, then latching on to her clit and sucking until she gasps and loses her grip on my neck.
“Ummph!” she screams, my cock still deep in her throat. “Mmmph!”
