Soapy Spring Water

Jason hauls water jugs all day for cheapskate offices that throw a fit the second he hits traffic. Same bosses who treat him like wallpaper. One lucky month some penny-pincher overpaid twice, so Jason decided to divert a little of that oops-money into a rubdown. Back aching, ego bruised, he clocked out early and wandered into the parlor. Jackie answers the door in a thin tank top, already dripping. She squeezes his shoulders, steers him straight into the back room, and kicks the door shut. A steel basin of warm, sudsy water waits on the side table. She strips him, no ceremony, drops his clothes in a soggy heap, then guides him face-down on a slippery vinyl table. Warm lather spills over his ass crack, runs between his cheeks, coats the inside of his thighs. She slides bare soapy tits across his shoulders, then his lower back, dragging hard nipples while her hand reaches underneath and grabs his balls. Fingers wrap around his cock, slick with lavender bubbles, stroking him slow and firm until he grunts. Jackie climbs up, straddles his thighs, and works the same suds over her own pussy, rubbing the slick folds against his hamstring before she flips him. Straddling his chest now, she squeezes more soap between her tits and sandwiches his stiff prick between them, jerking up and down until suds fly and slap the floor. She leans forward, bends at the waist, and takes the head of his dick into her mouth, tongue swirling through the foam, sucking noisily while one hand milks the base and the other reaches behind to keep fingering her own slippery cunt. Wet slaps, sudden moans, the occasional giggle when a stray splash hits her eye. Jason forgets water routes, angry office managers, aching knees, everything, while Jackie rides the edge of his orgasm with her mouth until he shoots hot come across her tongue, mixing with the last of the lather in a frothy swirl she swallows without a blink.