Jan Week 3: Spa Day with Samantha...He cums on her face.

Ethan’s face twisted with a raw, almost cartoonish effort as he tried to stave off the inevitable, his jaw set and eyes bugging out with the desperate determination of a man about to lose a high-stakes game of Russian roulette. Each thrust became shallower and more frantic, desperation leaking out of him in little gasps and choked whimpers. Leah, for her part, was beyond caring about timing or technique; her entire world had been reduced to the volcanic pressure building inside her, the slick, frantic grind of their bodies, the animal urge to push him over the edge with her.

He managed, barely, to drag himself out of her the moment before he erupted. His cock, flushed and furious, twitched dangerously as he lurched forward, pinning Leah to the table with his hips. She thought he was going to aim for her breasts, like every guy since the dawn of time, but Ethan’s aim was something else entirely: the first jet of cum hit Leah square in the throat, painting a viscous, white streak across her neck just above the rise of her tits.

The second shot landed on her jawline and splattered up into her hair. The third and fourth, less impressive but no less heartfelt, managed to arc onto her collarbone and the massage table, respectively, leaving a constellation of sticky droplets in their wake.

The sensation was pure filth, anointing her in heat and scent and the stinging, salty aftermath of his desperation. Leah laughed, actually laughed, because the depravity of the moment was just too much, too perfectly unhinged. She reached down and gently milked the last trembling pulses from his shaft, deliberately smearing the leavings of his orgasm onto the head before bringing it to her lips.

She sucked him tenderly, almost lovingly, letting her tongue swirl around the hypersensitive tip as she cleaned him off, savoring the taste not as a chore but as a reward. Ethan nearly collapsed, his knees buckling as he clutched the edge of the table to keep from dropping onto her. He whimpered, a helpless, animal sound, and Leah relished the thought that she’d ruined him for any other woman.

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 of tension 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…