Deep Tissue Surprise

The courthouse steps still felt sticky under my heels as I slipped into the back of the cab. My shoulders were knotted tighter than the evidence files I’d just shoved into my briefcase. Another brutal corporate trial, fourteen-hour days, and a judge who hated everyone. I needed release. Badly.

I texted the parlor: “Usual room, 20 min.”

The reply came instantly. “Ready for you, Elena.”

The discreet little storefront in the financial district looked like any other high-end spa. Inside, the air smelled of warm cedar and something faintly sweet. My favorite masseur, Marcus, always took care of me. Strong hands, zero small talk, and he knew exactly how to work out the stress without ever crossing the line. Or so I thought.

I stripped in the softly lit room, heart still racing from the day. The sheet felt cool against my bare skin as I lay face-down, naked underneath. My pulse thumped in my ears. The door clicked shut.

“Hey, counselor,” Marcus murmured, voice low and close. “Heard it was a war zone today.”

“You have no idea,” I whispered back, already melting a little at the familiar scent of his aftershave. “Just… make it go away.”

His oiled palms landed on my shoulders. The usual firm pressure. Then something shifted. His thumbs dug deeper along my spine, slower, almost teasing. I let out a shaky breath.

“New technique?” I asked, voice muffled by the face cradle.

“Deep tissue,” he said, lips so close I felt the words against my ear. “Thought you might need something… extra tonight. You’re wound so tight I can feel it in your hips.”

His hands slid lower, gliding over the curve of my ass, thumbs pressing into the dimples above it. Heat pooled instantly between my legs. I bit my lip.

“Marcus… what are you—”

“Shhh.” His voice dropped to a bare whisper. “Door’s locked. No one’s coming in. Just breathe.”

One hand stayed on my lower back while the other slipped between my thighs, bold and slick with oil. His fingers parted my pussy lips without warning, stroking my clit in slow, deliberate circles. I jerked, a muffled moan escaping before I could stop it.

“Oh fuck… that’s not—”

“Tell me to stop and I will,” he breathed, pressing two thick fingers inside me suddenly, curling them against that perfect spot. “But your pussy’s already dripping down my wrist, Elena. You don’t want me to stop.”

I whimpered, gripping the table edges. The risk of it—the quiet massage parlor, the thin walls, the chance a client could walk the hallway any second—made my heart hammer. His fingers pumped faster, wet sounds obscenely loud in the small room.

“God, you’re so tight,” he groaned softly. “Been wanting to feel this for months. Every time you came in all stressed and bossy in your little power suits… fuck.”

I pushed back against his hand, desperate. “Don’t stop… please don’t stop. Make me come, Marcus. I need it so bad.”

He added a third finger, stretching me, his thumb grinding my swollen clit in tight circles. My legs started trembling uncontrollably. The sheet was bunched under my hips now, soaked with oil and my own slickness.

His free hand reached under me, pinching one hard nipple. “That’s it. Let go. Come on my fingers like a good little lawyer. Quietly.”

The orgasm hit me like a freight train. I buried my face in the cradle, biting my own arm to stay silent as my pussy clenched and gushed around his thrusting fingers. Waves of pleasure ripped through me, leaving me shaking, tears pricking my eyes from the intensity.

Before I could catch my breath he was flipping me onto my back. The sheet fell away. His cock—thick, veined, and glistening with pre-cum—sprang free as he shoved his pants down just enough. He climbed over me, eyes dark with lust.

“Need to be inside you,” he whispered urgently. “Right now. Can’t wait anymore.”

“Yes,” I gasped, spreading my legs wider. “Fuck me. Hurry.”

He pushed in with one long thrust, burying his cock to the hilt in my still-spasming pussy. We both groaned. He felt huge, stretching me perfectly. The table creaked under us as he started pounding, hard and fast, one hand clamped over my mouth to keep me quiet.

“Jesus, you’re soaking my balls,” he panted against my neck. “So wet. So fucking perfect.”

I wrapped my legs around him, nails digging into his back. Every thrust hit deep, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing softly. My second orgasm built insanely fast, clit rubbing against his pelvis with every stroke.

“I’m gonna—fuck, I’m coming again,” I whimpered into his palm.

He slammed into me harder, breath ragged. “Come on my cock. That’s it. Milk me, baby.”

My walls fluttered and clenched hard around him. He cursed, hips stuttering as he spilled deep inside me, hot pulses of cum flooding my pussy. We stayed locked together, trembling, breathing hard, listening for any sound outside the door.

After a long moment he kissed my sweaty forehead, still buried inside me.

“Same time next week?” he whispered with a wicked little grin.

I laughed breathlessly, pussy still twitching around his softening cock.

“Make it twice a week.”