The Party Guy

Josh rolled up half-dead to the parlor, brain rattling along to some bass-heavy trance loop still stuck in his ears. Legs heavy, shoulders knotted, everything screaming for a pair of capable hands. Lucky him, Dani answered the bell. She wore her usual fitted shorts and tank, hair up, smile crooked. At first he just nodded at her questions, barely there, until she caught his attention the only way that worked—promising a full release that wiped out soreness in the best way possible. When she poured oil over his back and climbed on top, she asked what had kept him out so late. He grunted out details: flashing lights, bodies packed tight, that sharp edge of lust floating through every beat. Her thighs tightened against his hips as the story hit its stride. Heat climbed up her belly, traveled straight into her palms, and Josh felt it land. Every stroke suddenly hit deeper. She rolled him onto his back, straddled higher, and took him in hand, slick and slow, then faster when his breath hitched. His cock throbbed under her grip, slick with oil and her own quick excitement. She teased, stroked, paused to squeeze until he begged, then slid him inside with one practiced rock of her hips. The whole room smelled like coconut and sweat. The trance still buzzed faintly in his ears, now drowned out by skin slapping and Dani's low, filthy laugh every time he jerked and moaned.