The massage parlour - part II.

I spotted the flyer for the new massage parlour and figured I'd find out for myself. Inside, the blonde therapist met my eyes with a smile that promised more. She worked my shoulders, then let her hands drift lower until her fingers slipped between my thighs. Her breath warmed my neck. Soon the door opened and another woman stepped in—full breasts, barely contained by her uniform. She joined without a word, one hand cupping my breast while the blonde's tongue traced circles lower still. They took turns, mouths and fingers trading places, until I lay open between them, heat rising with every shared gasp. Three bodies moved together on the narrow table, slick skin and quiet moans filling the small room.