What A Treat

Kortney just clocked out of a long shift at the Nuru spot, tired and wound up tight, so she rang Marcus and told him to get his ass down there. When he showed up she offered a little massage, starting in the shower. She stripped fast, showed off every inch, ripped his pants off, and gave him one of her patented, mind-scrambling blow jobs—just enough suction and swirl to stand him straight up, but nowhere near enough to finish him. She dragged him into the Jacuzzi next, looped her toes around his shaft and stroked like she owned it, letting him hump the hot water for a second before easing off. Tease accomplished. From the tub she steered him to the mattress, squeezed half a bottle of that slippery gel all over both of them, and started sliding and gliding. Marcus couldn’t take it; he grabbed her hips, flipped her, and drove straight into that tight heat. He pumped a few good strokes, yanked out, spun her into a 69 so she could choke on him while he tongue-fucked her slick folds. By the time he flipped her again and buried himself to the hilt, she was dripping and pleading. Marcus gave her exactly what she begged for—hard, relentless thrusts—and right when she clamped down in orgasm he pulled free, painting stripes across her belly and tits with a heavy load.