VD - Obligations

Demi assures you via text message that you don’t have to get dressed up for Jake, so you’re just wearing a normal little summer dress when he arrives, carrying a big bag. He’s dressed in colorful shorts and a white tee, which is quite a look with his skin color. He… he looks very cute. It’s a long time since you have even noticed a boy, let alone liked what you saw.

“Hi,” you tell him nervously. “What’d you bring?”

“Oh, you know,” he says, smiling at you as he enters the house. “I know you were meeting with Morrigan, and I don’t really listen in, but come on. She must be trying to get you to do something. I know you’re new around here,” he adds over his shoulder as he carries the bag into the sunroom.

You follow curiously.

“Yeah,” you admit shyly. You weren’t shy an hour ago, but you don’t know Jake that well.

“I figured all that would be stressful.” He sets down the bag and unzips it to reveal a folding massage table. “And I never met a housewife that turned down a massage,” he adds.

Like… you understand that this is all transactional, but that doesn’t make it any less attractive. He’s hot and thoughtful. No wonder he’s probably bedded half of Demon World. You wonder what his house looks like.

“Hey,” you say as he’s setting up the table and putting a cloth over it, then laying out an assortment of oils. “Nobody’s really poor in Demon World, right?”

“Not really,” he replies. “We’re civilized.”

“So why doesn’t everyone have a huge castle?” you ask.

“Not everyone wants to bother with all that,” Jake replies with a shrug. “But things come and go. We’re all very old, Riley. Evil castles go out of style, then they come back. I think your timing’s good,” he adds. “They’re coming back. Five years ago, Morrigan’s place was exposed brick and stainless steel. Now she’s got gargoyles again, and she’s kind of a trendsetter.”

“Hmm…” You’re trying to understand, but it’s hard.

The table is set up. “Ready?” Jake asks.

“Oh. Right. Uh, clothes on or off?”

“Your choice,” he says.

Right. Well, it’s time to stop being a pussy. Paying this man means him collecting your ejaculate, so being innocent is kind of pointless. Blushing just a little, you remove your dress and panties and climb onto the table. It’s funny; you’d never gotten a massage before you went to that soccer camp.

Jake gets right to work, using his big, warm hands to gently rub oil into your skin. He’s not lewd about it all which just makes it one thousand times more erotic. In an embarrassingly short amount of time, your pussy is on fire, your cock is hard and aching against the padded table, and you’re squirming under the lightest touch of his fingertips on your shoulders. They were not exaggerating about this guy. Or maybe there’s something in the oil. You don’t care.