The massage parlour - part I.

I spotted the new massage parlor ad and went straight there. The girl who greeted me was a slim blonde in delicate lingerie, her skin still carrying a teenage flush. She led me to a dimly lit room where another girl, just as young and fair, waited in matching lace. They both wore wicked little smiles. One of them peeled my robe away while the other traced a single finger down my chest, slow and sure. Then the blonde knelt, tugged my underwear low, and wrapped her lips around my cock without a word. Behind me, the second girl pressed her breasts to my back, her breath warm against my neck as she reached around and cupped my balls, rolling them gently while her friend sucked deeper. The rhythm was perfect—wet, tight, and teasing—until the blonde rose, straddled my lap, and sank down on me in one smooth motion. The second girl climbed behind her, kissing her shoulder, fingers sliding down to rub the blonde’s clit each time she rocked her hips. Their bodies moved together, skin sliding on skin, soft moans filling the room as they took turns riding me. When the blonde started to tighten and shake, the other girl bit her lip and whispered that she wanted her turn next.