Jan Week 3: Spa Day with Samantha..."In your mouth..." Leah doesn't swallow though.

“In your mouth,” Ethan managed, the words nearly drowned by the wracked groan that wrung itself from his chest. He looked like a man being exorcized—eyes rolling, lips parted, every muscle in his body flexed as if resisting some invisible current.

Of course he would say that. Leah didn't hardly know why she had asked him and when she did she decided she didn't to swallow this stranger's load. Maybe it just felt too much like cheating. Or maybe she was scared of an STI...she wasn't quite sure but she knew she wasn't going to simply swallow his load. Even still she was going to make sure he certainly had a happy ending. She redoubled her efforts, lips gliding over the head of his cock and down the shaft with a depth and rhythm that bordered on savage.

She pressed forward until her nose nuzzled the base, filling her senses with the heat, the dry shimmer of his cologne, and the unmistakable tang of pre-cum slicking her tongue. He throbbed against her palate, a twitch building beneath the skin as his thighs tensed around her ears—an involuntary cage. She braced herself, pulling in a slow breath through her nose. Her hair fanned down, tickling his belly; her hands dug into the meat of his thighs to anchor herself.

"I'm gonna cum!" he bellowed.

Leah pulled her mouth off his cock and put her tongue to the sensitive underside of his cock's head and stroked swiftly. He groaned out in pleasure as he began to cum, his ivory goo spilling out onto himself and on her hand and on her tongue. She was making a mess on him, but Ethan could have cared less. Sure he had wanted her to swallow his cum but in that moment he was getting off and couldn't help but to moan and writhe under her skillful hand and tognue. It was messy, it was lewd, and she loved every second of it.

When he finally relaxed, spent and gasping, she let go of his cock from her hand which was covered in his warm cum; she then wiped on a nearby towel. She looked up, locking eyes with Ethan. He was still reeling, pupils blown wide, mouth working open and closed like a fish in shallow water. There was no shame in his expression—just stupefied gratitude, and a kind of fragile reverence that made her want to laugh and cry at the same time.

“Better than fifty minutes of deep-tissue?” she teased, folding her arms beneath her breasts, the motion inadvertently lifting them just enough to draw Ethan’s gaze. He tried to laugh, but it came out as a strangled, post-orgasmic whimper.

Ethan could only nod, still catching his breath.

“Holy shit,” he finally managed, the words vibrating in the filtered air. “You’re…fuck, I’m going to remember that for the rest of my life.”

Leah felt an absurd sense of pride, a kind of wicked satisfaction blooming in her chest.

She stood, giving Ethan a moment to compose himself. His eyes tracked her as she moved around the table, every muscle in his body still trembling with aftershocks. Leah took a small towel from the supply cart and dabbed her lips, then turned back to face him, one eyebrow raised.

“I guess you may want to shower huh?” he said as he got off the table and took in a few deep breaths to regain his own composure and busied himself looking for his uniform.

“I probably should, I suppose,” Leah said in a haze of pleasure.

“You know if you ever want my card I could do house visits.” he said with a smile as he pulled his pants up and then started working on putting on his top.

“Thanks,” she said, giving him a smile that said ‘it was just a one-time thing handsome’ and grabbed a nearby towel and headed towards the shower portion of the spa room. “Maybe if I come back, I will request you.”

He nodded.

“Any time.” he moved toward the door, understandable but also hopeful that she would return for another fun row. “This concludes our session. Feel free to use the facilities and return to the lobby whenever you are ready.” He said it as if he had just performed any other massage for any other customer. Then he gave her a playful wink and left the room for her to shower and get dressed.

Leah showered and toweled off, surprised at how steady her hands were. Her whole body tingled, a deep, viscous hum running beneath every inch of skin.

She dressed slowly, basking in the afterglow. There was a sticky ache between her legs, a soreness in her thighs and shoulders, but she wore it like a secret medal. Her hair was a mess, her skin flushed, her eyes bright and a little wild. She checked her phone: no missed calls, one text from Samantha—“Drinks in the lobby when you’re done!”—and a spammed group chat about bridesmaids’ shoes. There was a moment, as she zipped up her jacket, where guilt wanted to tap her on the shoulder, but she ignored it. She wasn’t going to let anything mar the gorgeous, illicit power she felt right now.

She emerged into the lounge area, where Samantha already waited at the bar, swirling a martini and talking with two other women in robes. The three of them looked up as Leah approached. Samantha’s gaze settled on her for a half-second too long, brow arching in that all-knowing, you little minx way she’d perfected since freshman year. Leah couldn’t quite meet her eye, but Sam didn’t press.

“Holy shit, you’re glowing,” Samantha said, sliding Leah a fresh mimosa. “He must have done a real number on you.”

“He…he really did.” she said with a chuckle.

“Get a happy ending?” Samantha winked and nudged Leah in jest and they both chuckled.

“Ha ha very funny.” Leah said-her voice edged with something that Samantha couldn’t quite place. “Thank you so much for getting me to come out to do this today. I think I really needed it.”

“Of course! We should do it more often, honestly. You need it as a teacher more than most of us.” Samantha took a long swig of her drink as if just thinking about being a public teacher made her need the spirits swirling in her glass.

Leah and Samantha finished off their drinks and then parted ways. Leah headed back home to Jonathan. While Leah was able to have her fun and even shower behind closed doors—maybe there was just something about the way she would be acting that evening that would belie a sense of shame. Maybe it was just a sense or tensions she was giving off as she drove home, she knew that the shower at the spa couldn’t wipe away the act she had done—even if the soap had smelled like rainfall and eucalyptus mist…