Oiled Temptation: A Masseuse’s Erotic Secret

The room was warm, dimly lit by flickering candles, the air thick with the scent of jasmine oil. Mark had booked the massage on a whim, a treat after a grueling week, expecting nothing more than a chance to unwind. The spa’s reputation was stellar, but when the door opened and she walked in, he knew this would be anything but routine.
Her name was Lena, and she was a vision—long auburn hair tied loosely, a silk robe hugging her curves, and a smile that promised more than relaxation. “Lie down,” she said, her voice a velvet purr, guiding him to the table. He stripped to his boxers, face down on the cushioned surface, feeling the first drip of warm oil on his back. Her hands were strong, skilled, kneading his shoulders with a rhythm that melted tension away. But there was something else—a deliberate slowness, a teasing edge to every stroke.

“You’re tight,” she murmured, her fingers tracing lower, brushing the dip of his spine. He shivered, her touch igniting a heat that spread fast. She leaned closer, her breath grazing his ear. “Relax for me.” The words were a command, laced with seduction, and he felt his body obey even as his pulse quickened.
Then she shifted, her robe slipping slightly, revealing smooth thighs and a hint of what lay beneath. “I’m not like most masseuses,” she said, her tone playful yet bold. She guided his hand to her leg, letting him feel her skin, then higher, until his fingers brushed her hardness. A shemale, confident and unapologetic, her eyes locked on his with a challenge. “Still want me to keep going?”

Mark’s throat went dry, but he nodded, desire overriding any hesitation. Lena smirked, shedding the robe fully, her body a stunning mix of soft curves and firm strength. She climbed onto the table, straddling his hips, her oiled hands sliding down his chest as she pressed herself against him. The massage turned primal—her touch teasing his nipples, his thighs, everywhere but where he ached most, driving him to the edge of sanity.

“Please,” he rasped, and she obliged, flipping him over with surprising ease. Her fingers danced lower, then wrapped around him, stroking with expert precision as she ground against him, her own arousal evident. The room spun with heat, their breaths syncing in ragged gasps. She leaned down, lips brushing his, then claimed him in a kiss that was all fire and need.

It built fast—her teasing touches turning firm, her body rocking with his, until release hit them both, a shuddering, electric wave that left him trembling beneath her. She slid off, smirking as she draped a towel over him, her composure intact while he lay wrecked.

“Same time next week?” she asked, voice dripping with promise. Mark could only nod, already craving the next journey her hands would take him on.