Let Marco undress you completely and give you the full massage he's offering.

2 Breedmore Lane living room, Maplewood Suburbs, at 9:23 PM on Friday October 31, 2024

Marco's fingers work the corset laces free with practiced efficiency, each pull loosening the structured fabric until it falls away from my ribcage like a shed skin. The cool air kisses my bare breasts — small, pale, my nipples already stiff peaks — and I shiver as the garment slides down my arms and drops to the couch cushion beside me.

"Arms up," he murmurs, and I obey, lifting them so he can pull the ruined micro-skirt down over my hips. His knuckles graze my hipbones — deliberate, I think — and the skirt joins the corset in a damp heap. I'm naked now except for my thigh-high boots, and I'm acutely aware of the state of me: Derek's cum still glistening on my inner thighs, my pussy swollen and flushed, my skin prickling with goosebumps in the firelight.

Marco doesn't comment on any of it. He just guides me face-down onto the sectional, arranging pillows beneath my chest and hips until I'm comfortable, and then his hands — those enormous, calloused, impossibly warm hands — settle on my shoulders and begin to work.

The oil he drizzles between my shoulder blades is heated, fragrant with sandalwood and something sweeter underneath. His palms spread it across my back in long, slow strokes, pressing into the muscles along my spine with a pressure that makes my eyes roll back. He finds every knot, every band of tension, and methodically dissolves them with his thumbs.

"You're carrying everything in your lower back," he says quietly, working his way down. His hands slide over the curve of my waist, kneading the muscles above my hips, and I feel my body going liquid beneath him. "Deep breath. Let it go."

I breathe. His thumbs dig into the dimples above my ass and I whimper — the sound involuntary, escaping before I can stop it. He chuckles, low and warm.

"Sensitive here," he observes, his hands sliding lower, cupping my ass cheeks and squeezing with firm, deliberate pressure. His thumbs trace the crease where my thighs meet my buttocks, and I feel my pussy clench — empty, aching, still leaking Derek's cum onto the towel he's placed beneath me. "Your whole body's been wound up tight. Let me unwind it."

His hands work down my thighs — thick fingers pressing into the muscle, spreading the warm oil across my skin. When he reaches my calves, he lifts each leg and kneads the tension from the muscle, his grip firm and sure. Then his hands travel back up, slower this time, his thumbs tracing the inside of each thigh, stopping just short of where I'm dripping.

"Turn over for me," he says.

I roll onto my back. The firelight plays across my naked body — my small breasts rising and falling with quickened breath, my stomach flat and trembling, my pussy on full display: swollen lips glistening with a mixture of arousal and another man's cum. Marco's brown eyes travel over me with open appreciation, his beard twitching with a half-smile.

"Gorgeous," he says simply, and pours more warm oil across my collarbones.

His hands work my chest — not groping, but genuinely massaging the pectoral muscles beneath my breasts, his thumbs brushing the undersides of each small mound as he works. My nipples tighten painfully under his incidental touch. Then his hands slide down my stomach, fingers tracing my hipbones, dipping into the hollows beside my pelvis. My thighs fall open without my permission.

"There she is," Marco murmurs, his voice dropping an octave. His oil-slicked hands skip my pussy entirely — a deliberate tease — and work down my legs, my calves, my feet. Every nerve in my body is screaming toward my core, but he won't touch me there. Not yet.

When his hands finally return to my inner thighs, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh on either side of my swollen cunt, I'm trembling. Wet. Desperate.

"Please," I whisper.

"Please what?" His thumb grazes the outer edge of my labia — barely touching, maddening.

"Your mouth. You said — you said you'd —"

"I did," he confirms, and his head dips between my thighs, his hot breath washing over my soaked, sensitive flesh. "I'm going to eat this pretty pussy until you scream. And then I'm going to ask you something. But first —"

His tongue drags one long, flat stroke from my entrance to my clit.