The Thief of Happy Endings

The massage studio smelled of eucalyptus and something faintly floral, a scent that clung to the back of my throat. I’d come for a deep tissue session, my neck a knot of tension from weeks of deadlines. But when the door opened and Lena walked in, all that tension moved down, settling hot and heavy in my gut.

She was my neighbor, the one who waved from her driveway, the one whose husband, Mark, talked too loudly about his golf game. In her white uniform, hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, she looked like a professional. But the way her eyes held mine, just a beat too long, said something else entirely.

"Hi, David," she said, her voice low, almost a whisper. "I didn't know you came here."

"This is my first time." My voice was rough. "My back is a mess."

"Let's fix that." She gestured to the table. "Face down, please."

I stripped to my boxers, the air cool on my skin, and laid down, the paper crinkling under me. I felt her hands, warm and slick with oil, on my shoulders, and a low hum vibrated through my chest. She worked the muscle there, her thumbs digging deep, and I let out a groan that was entirely involuntary.

"Tight," she murmured, moving lower, her palms gliding down my spine. "You carry all your stress right here."

I couldn't answer. Her hands were on my lower back, then the top of my ass, and the line of my boxers. Her touch was firm, professional, but I felt the heat of it like a brand. My cock was thickening, pressing against the table, a fact I couldn't hide and she didn't seem to care about.

She pulled the fabric down, just an inch, exposing the top of my crack. "I need to get the glutes," she said, her mouth close to my ear. "Is that okay?"

"Sure," I managed, the word barely a breath.

Her hands were on my bare ass, kneading, and I bit my lip hard. My dick was now straining against the towel she’d draped over me. She worked the muscle, sliding her hands under my hips, and I knew she could feel it. Her fingers brushed against the tip, and I gasped.

"Shh," she whispered. "The walls are thin."

She turned me over, and the towel fell away. My cock stood at full attention, a leak of pre-cum beading on the head. She looked at it, then at me, a flush creeping up her neck.

"Lena, I'm sorry—" I started.

"Don't be," she cut me off. "I've been thinking about this since you moved in. About your hands on my lawnmower. About the way you look at me."

She took my cock in her hand, her grip sure and cool. She stroked me once, twice, and I was a mess. "Mark wouldn't—" I tried.

"Mark hasn't touched me in months." She leaned down, her lips brushing the head of my cock. "But you will, won't you? You'll fuck me right here on this table."

It wasn't a question. She climbed on, her small shorts and panties coming off in one fluid motion. She was already wet, her pussy slick and pink. She positioned herself over me, and I felt the heat of her, the softness of her cunt against the tip of my cock.

"Look at me," she commanded, and I did.

She sank down, and I filled her completely. A shudder ran through her body, and she let out a breathy "Fuck." Her walls clenched around me, so tight and hot, and I had to grip the sides of the table to keep from coming right then.

She started to move, a slow, rolling grind that had my eyes rolling back. Her hands were on my chest, her fingers digging into my skin. The room was silent except for the wet sound of her pussy swallowing my cock and her soft, staccato breaths.

"Faster," I whispered, my hands finding her hips.

She obeyed, lifting herself up and slamming back down. The table creaked beneath us, a rhythmic protest that felt louder than thunder. I could hear my own heartbeat in my ears.

"Quiet," she hissed, but she didn't stop. She leaned forward, her tits brushing against my chest, her mouth finding mine in a hot, sloppy kiss. We swallowed each other's moans, the taste of her lip gloss mixing with the salt of her sweat.

I grabbed her ass, pulling her down harder, and she broke the kiss with a gasp. "Oh, god, David," she panted. "Right there. Don't stop."

I could feel myself getting close, the pressure building at the base of my spine. She was riding me with abandon, her head thrown back, her ponytail swinging. The only sounds were the slap of our skin and her ragged breathing.

"I'm going to come," I grunted, the words torn from me.

"Me too," she breathed. "Fill me up. Please."

That was all it took. A wave of heat crashed over me, and I came inside her, my hips bucking up as I emptied myself. She followed a second later, her body shuddering, a high, thin whine escaping her lips as she collapsed onto my chest.

We lay there, tangled and slick, the eucalyptus scent filling my nose again. The table was still. The only sound was our breathing, loud in the quiet room. She lifted her head, her eyes soft and dazed.

"Same time next week?" she whispered.

I could only nod, my heart still slamming against my ribs. Outside, I could hear the distant hum of a lawnmower. It was Mark, starting his weekend chores.

CATEGORIES: [Bachelor, Neighbor, Milf, Cheating, Massage]