Point of View

Charles kept pouring drinks and pretending not to listen, but every guy kept bragging about this Nuru place. Asa, they said. Asa was the one you asked for. One slick fucker slid him the password like contraband. Charles shoved the paper in his pocket and clocked out. He found the door between two boarded-up storefronts, muttered the word, and stepped inside. The air hit thick and warm, and a woman wearing nothing but a calm smile led him down the hall. Asa waited in a tiny room, naked, body glistening under a low bulb. She had a smirk that promised trouble and hips that looked built for it. She laid a vinyl sheet over the low table and told him to strip. When he lay facedown, Asa dripped oil straight onto the backs of his legs, letting it run, then climbed on top, pressing slippery skin to skin. She dragged herself slowly, breasts sliding along his thighs, nipples tracing slow circles on his ass. Every pass left him harder against the sheet. She flipped him, straddled his chest, and worked lower with practiced control, gliding so close he could feel her cunt graze his cock without giving it. One more deliberate stroke and his balls tightened. She pinned his wrists, sank until her slick folds parted over the head, and held the tease there. When she finally sank down the whole length in one deliberate glide, his hips bucked like he'd been punched. She rode him slow and deep, oil-slick hips rolling in perfect rhythm until his cock throbbed and pulsed inside her. Charles came loud, voice breaking, twitching uncontrollably under her weight. Asa just laughed softly and patted his chest, mission accomplished.