Got a facial, massage, and room service [MF]

Ricky is smooth without being obvious about it, like all the best salesmen. I know I’m being sold to, it’s a given. I’m the gatekeeper to the copious funds my division allocates to special projects, and he represents a firm which is a provider of said special projects.

Every proposal, there’s a game we play. I tell Ricky about the proposal while pretending to be shopping around, approaching other vendors. He pretends to believe me, and wines and dines me with increasingly extravagant experiences until I’m convinced that his firm really has the strongest bid.

And the experiences certainly are extravagant. Impossible-to-get-a-reservation fine dining, box seats to playoff games, backstage pass meet-and-greets with musicians, underground pop-up nightclubs, one time even the players’ dinner at a celebrity golf tournament. Money and smiles unlock doors, and Ricky is a master key.

There’s a fine line. He’s not allowed to just hand me cash. Cash, or gifts with cash value, is bribery, and bribery is against The Rules. But to woo me with exclusive experiences? That’s just a sales tactic.

And at the end of the day, what’s a few tens of thousands against budgets of tens of millions? The senior executives don’t care so long as I get results. Which I do. And my staff don’t care because they don’t know. Like I said, it’s a game. And Ricky and I, we’re masters who have been playing for years.

So we’re at this bar, this classy place on the top floor of one of the old towers downtown. Very exclusive, not the kind of place you can just walk into. You gotta be on the list. You gotta be on another list before you know the first list exists.

“James,” Ricky says. James is the waiter. Of course Ricky’s on a first name basis with the staff, he’s Ricky. “James, you got anymore Bordeaux back there? That one I was telling you about?”

“Of course, Mr Lowden,” James says. He returns with a bottle and pops the cork, pours a sample. Ricky goes through the ritual, we get our wine.

We clink glassware. “Salud!” I take a sip and settle into the overstuffed chair, watching the city lights below.

“How’s the wife? Kids?” Ricky says.

“Oh, you know.” I watch a fog bank roll over the hills in the distance. “Busy. Happy, I guess. The boy’s doing his college applications.”

“Wow, that old already? Time flies.”

“It does,” I say, “How about yours?”

“You know, see them when I can. Their mom is… well, civil.”

“And Sara?”

“Hah! You remembered her name,” Ricky shakes his head, “That was fun while it was happening, but it wasn’t never meant to last.”

“But those tits, man.”

“Oh, don’t remind me. I’d be sucking on her nipples, right? Getting real into it, nursing hard, teeth, the whole bit. And she’d love it. She’d love it so much, she would actually fucking climax. Just from her tits.”

“Nah,” I say, “That can’t happen. She was faking.”

“Swear on my life!” he laughs. “Chick was crazy into it.”

“I dunno, man.”

“Anyway, I got something new I’m working on. Should pay off soon. What about you? Anything on the side?”

“Nothing. Amy and I are ‘working on things.’”

“How’s that going?”

I shrug. “Eh.”

“Hmph,” he grunts, “Maybe what you need is a little ‘you time.’ You heard about this new place, just opened, Y&S?”

I rub my cheek. “Can’t say I have.” Here it comes, the grift, the ritual scratching of my back so that I can scratch his.

“Real nice place,” he says, “Day spa. Very relaxing. I’ll set you up, my treat, full package.”

“A day spa?” Not to look the proverbial gift horse in the mouth, but, really? Last time he got me a week-long getaway in the Swiss Alps.

“I know, I know,” he says, “Maybe doesn’t sound like your thing. But you gotta trust me, you’ll love this.”

“Oh no, Ricky. Don’t make this about ‘trust.’”

He laughs. “Have I ever steered you wrong?”

“You know you haven’t.”

“So clear your schedule. Take a day. Go to the fucking spa.”

“Y&S?” I say.

“That’s the one.” He waits a beat, then adds, “One other thing. Behave yourself there. They’re picky with who they let be clients. Real picky.”

I frown. “Right.”

I pick a day and have my assistant clear my schedule. Morning of comes, and I head over first thing. It’s just outside the business district, a squat building tucked between two others. No sign or anything, just a plate glass front door opening up to an elegantly minimalist lobby, every surface a soothing off-white, the receptionist insanely gorgeous.

“Can I help you, sir?”

“Uh, yeah,” I say, “Y&S?”

“That’s correct,” she says.

“Ricky Lowden set something up for me, I believe.”

“Ah,” she taps on her computer, “Yes, sir, he did.” Her hair is immaculate, every short blond strand exactly in place. “Welcome to Younger & Semenoff. You’re set to enjoy our Platinum Plus experience. It’s our top level service.”

“Sounds great.”

She sets a bottle of imported sparkling water in front of me. “Complementary, sir. An associate will be with you shortly to get you started.”

Not even a minute later, the rear door opens and a young black woman emerges. She’s wearing a lose-fitting outfit the color of parchment. “Hello, sir. I’m Ann, and I’ll be assisting you today. If you follow me, we’ll begin.”

She holds the door open with a friendly smile as I walk past, entering the facility. The hallway is dark, lit indirectly. The air is humid and smells like flowers. Soothing ambient music plays.

“At any point in your visit, if you have any concerns, please let me know.”

We turn a corner. “Suite six,” she says, indicating a solid wood door with a brass handle.

From the minimalist lobby, you’d never expect the interior to look like this. The room’s designed in an ornate Turkish style, architectural flourishes in every corner, each detail considered and designed. Traditional lamps and a skylight above showcase the floor’s finely crafted mosaic. It’s a joy just to soak in the ambiance, let alone the amenities.

Ann walks through the room, pointing out its features. “A closet for your clothes, sir, and a robe to change into. A hot tub, cold wash, and sauna. Here is the shower and steam room, controls on the back wall. A day bed and floor couch. Some salves and lotions there, towels underneath. Your plan comes with a facial, massage, and room service. Press the intercom here when you’re ready for these, and the girl will come. But go at your own pace, your plan comes with no time limit, and we are open twenty-four hours.”

I nod. “Wow, very nice, very luxury. Thank you, Ann.”

“You’re most welcome. If there’s nothing else, I’ll leave you to it.”

This doesn’t quite seem Ricky’s style, but I will admit that this place is impressive. I strip naked and spend a half hour feeling my muscles unwind in the hot water. Tensions I don’t even know about melt away. My skin takes on a healthy, robust sheen. I even take a short nap.

I decide its time to explore the rest of my plan. I wrap myself in the plush robe and push the intercom.

“How can I help, sir?” the voice squawks. I think it’s Ann.

“I’m ready for the facial now, please.”

“Right away, sir.”

A minute later the door opens and a cute young woman walks in. Her brunette pixie cut catches my eye. It suits her, drawing out her cuteness. She’s wearing a white tank top and matching athletic shorts, both tight and translucent enough to clearly see she’s got no underwear on beneath. She’s fit, and I’m trying not to stare, but wondering if maybe I’m supposed to.

“Uh, hi,” I say.

“Hello,” she smiles at me, “I’m Heather. I’m here for the facial.” There’s something knowing in her grin, something subversive in her eye.

“Ok, great.” My gaze falls. Her dark nipples poke through her tank top, the shape of her pussy outlined in her shorts. I shake my head, force myself to make eye contact. “Where do you want me?”

“Up to you,” she says, “But the steam room’s always a popular choice.”

“Sounds good.” I open the door.

“Um, sir,” she interrupts.

“Yes?”

“You should leave the robe out here. In there, it’ll just get wet.”

I hesitate. “Um, you… you’re sure?”

“It’s ok,” she smiles.

I shrug and toss the robe on the day bed, and, naked, arrange myself on the steam room bench. Heather follows me in.

“So I should just, like, close my eyes or whatever?” I’m self-conscious, being exposed in front of this cute young woman. But I figure she’s a professional.

“I guess,” she shrugs. She adjusts the controls, starting the steam billowing.

I lean back against the warm tile and steal one more glance at her youthful figure, then close my eyes and wait for her to begin, hands on my lap, trying to preserve some sort of modesty.

I expect to feel her start applying the treatment to my face, but to my surprise, she takes my hands and sets them by my sides. Uh, ok. Whatever, I go with the flow.

She pushes my knees apart. My dick must be just hanging out. I gasp.

“Shhh,” she says, “It’s ok. Just relax.”

Ok. Unconventional, but she seems like she knows what she’s doing.

Then she grabs my cock.

“Wha–” I look down. She’s kneeling between my feet, yanking on my dick with both hands, bathing me with a impish grin. She’s got her back arched, tits nearly touching my dick, and she rubs my cock’s head first against one nipple, and then the other.

My jaw drops and I grow hard. Her grip is firm and pumping steady and she’s powerfully cute. My dick swells as the steam billows around us, condensing on my skin, making her clothes cling to hers. Somehow her hairdo seems immune to the humidity.

My cock worked to full erection, I gasp again as she slides it into her open mouth. I don’t understand what brought this on, why this beautiful girl is being so nice to me, but she seems eager to blow me, happy that I’m getting off.

And getting off I am. She’s watching me, making eye contact as she sucks, grinning when she licks up the length of my shaft, winking as she wraps her lips around my balls. I moan and pant, mouth hanging slack, entranced by the sounds of her slurping on my dick.

She has a hand on my hips, her fingers forming a ring around the base of my shaft, squeezing my balls. I grab her wrist and grip it, feeling my body tense. Her lips slide off my shaft and her fists return, driving me to orgasm with commanding force.

A cloud of steam swells from the vent as a jet of spunk sprays from my cock. Heather catches it with her face, grinning at me even though my cum drips into her eye. Another blast jets onto her cheek, and she strokes my cock again and again, the spurts reduced to an oozing.

Finally, my dick limp, my balls drained, she lets me go and smiles up at me. Her face is coated in my jizz. It drips from her eyebrows, her nose, her lips. She licks some into her mouth while running a fingertip along her chin, sweeping up another load. She sucks her finger clean.

“Sweet fuck,” I mutter.

She giggles and stands up. I look at her in awe. She spins around, giving me a show. Her clothes, already tight, are now sopping wet, transparent and clinging to her, skin shining through.

But then she steps back and waves goodbye, blowing me a cum-sticky kiss. The steam room door closes behind her, and she’s gone.

My head’s swimming. What the fuck was that? I’ve got to get out of this steam before I pass out. I shower off and lay down on the day bed in a daze. Maybe I nap, I’m not sure. But I have never been so relaxed, I know that.

I can reach the intercom button without having to stand. Ann’s voice squawks, “How was Heather?”

“Uh–she was, um, she was great. Perfect. Thanks.”

“Great to hear that,” she said, “Is there anything else we can help with?”

“I’m ready for the massage.”

“So soon? There’s no rush.”

I look at the intercom quizzically. “Uh, yeah. I’m ready.”

“Yes, sir. Angela’s our best, she’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

Twenty minutes? I shrug. There are worse places to wait. “Uh, ok. Thanks.”

The intercom clicks off.

I take a quick bathe in the hot tub, then dip into the cold wash, before laying back down on the day bed. I arrange a little towel over my hips and stretch out, focusing on the gentle music and gurgling of water.

When the door opens and the woman walks in, I’m almost dozing. Then I see her, and I’m immediately wide awake. She’s dressed in the same thin, white outfit as Heather, it must be some sort of spa uniform, but where Heather was slim and petite, this woman has curves for miles.

“Angela?” I ask.

“Yes?”

“You’re the, uh, masseuse?”

“I am,” she says. Her hips are at my eye level, and they’re wide, so very wide. I stare, I cannot help myself, I am fascinated by the mound between her thick thighs, the narrowness of her waist above, and the incredible outward sweep to her broad shoulders and melon-sized breasts.

She steps around me, ignoring my gawking, and reaches into the cabinet. Her ass is prominent and round, and I’m filled with wild urges to jump up behind her and fuck her brains out.

“Anything I should know about?” she says, “Injuries, problem areas, that sort of thing?”

My dick. “Uh, no.” Her skin is smooth and brown, toned muscles flexing as she bends over. Fuck, this woman could tear me in half. My cock twitches. I urge it to behave.

She stands over me, bottle of mineral oil in her hand, surveying my body. She’s striking, permed bronze hair framing her high cheekbones. She’s no nonsense, though, and sighs at my modesty towel. She flicks it away and peers at my dick. She flicks her eyebrows.

“They say you’re the best,” I say.

“That’s because I am.”

She pours mineral oil onto my chest, and works it into my shoulders and arms. She massages, kneading with her powerful, precise grip. I lie there, watching her tits swing over me, bounce side to side as her arms bump into them.

I relax into the routine, muscles melting as she works out their knots, letting my mind drift. My upper body done, she moves to my legs, and I soak in the sight of her glorious ass, that magnificent hourglass figure.

“Huh,” she says, looking at my dick. It’s half-erect, just enough so that it’s hanging in the air.

“Uh, sorry,” I say meekly.

She massages my calves, my knees, and moves up to my thighs. Her strong fingers dig into me, and she slides them up towards my crotch, first on one leg, then the other. Her fingers nearly touch my balls. My cock twitches, I can’t help it. She flashes me a sharp smirk.

Then she pours out some mineral oil on my pelvis, which I’ve never had before. With the same steady pace, she massages my hips, reaching right up against the base of my dick and balls. The attention makes me grow stiff, no matter how much I try to make it not.

Still, Angela leans over my crotch as she works, not seeming to care. I daydream about fucking her.

Then she pushes my dick to my chest and pours mineral oil on my balls.

I jolt back to reality. “What?”

But she says nothing. She wraps her hands around my sac, taking one nut in each palm. As vigorous as her rubbing my muscles had been, she is surprisingly gentle with my balls, massaging the oil in with a light touch.

I shiver, my cock growing even stiffer as she works.

It’s weird, I guess, the masseuse working my balls. But the warm cupping of her fingers feels pretty fucking amazing, and as her thumbs tenderly rub and tug on my sac, I roll my legs outwards to give her easier access.

She responds by sending fingers lower, massaging my taint, rubbing oil into my sensitive skin there. I groan, jaw slack. I’ve never before felt anything like that, but it is intensely erotic, and my dick surges bright red, an obscene protrusion into the humid spa air.

Just as I grow accustomed to this newfound pleasure, Angela’s fingers slip even lower, teasing my asshole.

I suck in a sharp breath, tensing, making a squeaking sound.

Angela’s only reaction is a pleased-sounding “hmmm” and the return of her smirk. One hand on my balls, her other slides from my taint to asshole and back, toying with my pucker, each time drawing closer and closer to the threshold.

I gasp, breathing hard, feeling like I should object, should stop her. But the sensation I’d thought taboo proves to be devastatingly pleasurable.

I curl my legs wider, trusting Angela more and more. She grins and slides her finger inside me. I whimper and groan, my cock pulsing with each fast heartbeat, desperate for release.

I slap Angela’s butt. It is instinct, automatic. But she giggles and swings her hips towards me. I slap again, not pulling my hand away after. I grab and grope her, squeezing her ass while she fingers mine.

I don’t know what her end game is, and I don’t care. My dick isn’t getting any attention, swaying alone and neglected and rock hard, ready to burst while Angela’s fingers tease me more and more.

She is in no hurry, torments me at her own pace, taking endless delight in watching me squirm from the intense ballplay and burgeoning boldness of her fingers. I whimper and buck, my hand on her butt rudely shoving against her asshole. I am losing control, my hips thrusting wildly, completely on their own.

And then, all at once, she sidles away from my groping fingers, pulls her hands off me. I shoot her with a needy look. She reaches down, one single finger extended, moving closer and closer to my cock.

Wide eyed, I stare as she casually places it at the base of my shaft, right on my dick’s sensitive underside. With a deliberate languor, she drags her fingertip up my length, leaving in its wake just the barest hint of thrill.

But at this point, that’s all it takes.

My cock springs up, surging forward into nothingness. A fountain of cum sprays out, flying violently, high into the air.

Angela laughs as I groan, my dick gushing burst after burst of cum, landing everywhere. I am shocked by how much semen I am letting fly. It would have been a heavy load even if I hadn’t just came the hour before. Spunk sprays all over Angela and the bed and my chest, but the torrent left dribbling down my forlorn dick is mind-boggling. Where did all that come from?

“Told you I was the best,” Angela says, wiping us off.

“It’s no lie,” I say, mind empty of anything else.

“Need anything else before I go?”

“Lemme see those tits.”

She pauses, then shrugs. She pulls down her tank top, popping her large breasts free. Her nipples are in my face, and I give each one a little lick before she has to leave.

Then I pass out, for how long I do not know.

When I come to, I’m confused, blinking, not understanding what I’m seeing. I appear to be… Reality swims back into existence around me, my mind reels as I replay Heather and Angela’s visits. Were those real? But I can feel my body slick with mineral oil. They must’ve been. What type of spa is this?

I slip into the churning water of the hot tub, soaking the sleep away, and memory surfaces, I have one service remaining.

I once again push the intercom. “Yes, sir?” Ann’s voice, constant and reassuring.

“I’m hungry, can I get the room service?”

“Certainly sir,” she says, “Room service is our finest offering, only available at the Platinum Plus level. I’ll bring the menu.”

I consider my nudity, but I no longer think it matters if Ann or anyone here sees me naked. We are way past that point.

The door opens and Ann enters carrying a laminated binder. She walks up to the hot tub and hands me the folder, her gaze falling to the water, to my crotch. “Our room service is bespoke. Take your time with the selection, and let me know if you have any questions about our menu.”

I begin reading.

“Angela reports that you were quite well satisfied.”

“Oh yeah,” I say, “She’s great. A real master.”

“I am very happy to hear that, sir. Our clients’ pleasure is our top priority.”

“Mmm, yeah.” I am distracted. “I don’t understand this menu?”

“You may choose up to two selections.”

“But where’s the food?”

“There’s only one dish, a fruit medley. You are selecting your servers. They will bring you your meal and provide companionship. Nobody likes to eat alone.”

“Oh,” I say, rubbing my chin, “I guess that makes sense.” I study the page. Heather, from before, smiles seductively in one of the photos. She was amazing, and I’m tempted, but seven other cute faces and coy grins join hers on the page. It’s almost too much to pick just two. “You’re not one of the servers?”

She laughs. “No, sir.”

“That’s a shame,” I say. “Ok, um, Brielle and… Kylee.”

“Excellent choices, sir.”

Ann takes the menu back and leaves, and I hum quietly to myself. A man could get used to this type of treatment. I wonder what the girls and I will talk about.

Not long later, the door opens again and two young women enter, the first carrying a platter, the second a pitcher. It’s like something out of a Greek fable.

“Brielle?” I say.

“That’s me,” says the brunette with an ironic smirk.

The blonde glances at her, then looks me up and down. “And I’m Kylee.”

They’re both wearing the same thin, white clothing I expected. But even when anticipated, it’s still a pleasant turn to see these women so free with their beauty. Full breasts, firm asses, skinny little waists, long and slender legs — they are all right in front of me, obscured only by the transparent, form-fitting fabric. I smile, absorbing it all.

“And what is it you two do?”

Kylee shrugs. “Whatever it is that you want.”

“We’re not picky,” says Brielle.

“Well then,” I say, climbing from the hot tub, “Shall we eat?”

They curl up against me on the floor sofa, popping grapes and strawberries into my mouth. I rest my hands on their butts, and give each a squeeze in turn.

Brielle smiles, “You can touch me anywhere you’d like.”

I grope her and say, “Do you like touching yourself, too?”

Her grin widens, and she leans back, slipping her shorts off. She reclines, legs apart, knees curled to her chest. Her fingers drift to her tight pink pussy and gently brush over it.

I give her an appreciative nod while Kylee slides a blueberry into my mouth.

Brielle begins tweaking and teasing her pussy, putting on a show, making sure I see her penetrate herself, see her moan in pleasure.

Kylee purrs by my side, “She’s hot, isn’t she?”

“Very much so,” I say, “There’s nothing sexier than seeing a woman climax.”

Brielle and Kylee exchange glances. “Really?”

“Oh yes.”

Kylee shrugs. “Go for it,” she says to Brielle.

Then, there’s something changed in Brielle’s attitude. She’s still touching herself, but it’s with a different energy. Her movements, they’re quicker, more abrupt, less deliberate. Her gaze becomes distant, her hand frantic. Before, she had been putting on a show. Now, she was truly pleasuring herself.

We watch as Brielle goes and goes, her fingers flying. She squeezes her eyes closed, bites her lip, pinches her nipples. Kylee has forgotten about the fruit, and watches the other girl with rapt attention, wiggling her ass into my hand. Under her breath, she mutters a breathy, “Fucking hell, girl.”

Brielle jerks with orgasm, riding it out until she finally crumples in exhaustion, a panting, dazed, sexy sight.

“Can I have a turn?” Kylee says, gaze fixed on Brielle.

I grin. “What’s your opinion about the jets in the hot tub?”

“My opinion about…” Kylee is confused, but only at first, “Oh! Yes, let’s.” She stands and pulls on my hand, encouraging me to follow. She strips naked — a sight to see — and climbs into the churning water. I follow her in. The hot tub is wide, and she looks for a grip. “How–”

“Lean into me,” I say, “I’ll hold you.”

The hot tub has a half-dozen nozzles spraying out heated, bubbly water in powerful streams. Kylee looks genuinely excited as I brace her, aligning herself with one of these surges.

Her head rests against my chest, and I look down her body, a perfect view. We adjust to find the right angle, and I’m not sure if this will work. But then I see Kylee’s eyes go wide and unfocused. “Oh… yes…”

I push us closer to the jet, she begins quivering in my grip.

“Too much?” I ask.

“No!” she whimpers, “No…”

I cup her tits, playing with her nipples while she gets off. She grinds and thrusts, and I can see the bubbly water shoot into her pussy, see her skin bow to the water’s power. She’s squealing, a long, high-pitched sound.

Brielle slips into the water beside me, her touch soft, tempting. She wraps her around around my waist while she watches her friend, and then her other hand finds my dick, rubs it gently.

Kylee’s eyes roll back in her head and her chest heaves, but she keeps herself mounted on the jet.

“I’ve never seen her cum so hard,” Brielle says.

“She’s–?”

“Oh yeah,” she says, “I shouldn’t tell you this, but, well, most clients don’t care if we orgasm. They just want a show. But Kylee right now? This is the real deal, she’s not this good at faking it.”

Kylee writhes and moans.

“And yours?” I say, “Was your pleasure the ‘real deal’ too?”

“You told me you wanted me to climax,” she smiles, “So I did. But not like this. The only thing that gets me going like this is getting fucked by hard cock.” She gives my dick a firm squeeze and giggles.

My head swims.

With a final, deep groan, Kylee rolls off the jet and curls into a ball. Her mouth hangs slack, her eye glaze over, and I hold her up because I’m afraid she’ll drown if I don’t.

Brielle leans down and plants a kiss on her lips. “Did you have fun, girl?”

Kylee slowly focuses on the brunette, a grin forming on her lips. “Yes,” she says, slowly returning to reality.

“Take a breather,” Brielle says, guiding her to sit on the ledge. “I’m going to fetch the rest of the fruit.”

She climbs out of the hot tub, and as she does, her magnificent firm ass swings in my face. And I know what I want.

I climb out behind her, and she turns, looking at me in surprise. “I was going–”

I cut her off by grabbing her waist, shoving her over the day bed. She gasps, but pushes her ass up, understanding. I smack her butt, feel her pussy, and she’s breathing hard already, the anticipation alone getting her worked up. My dick is hungry. Her soft mound is presented and ready, a show of submission to my needs, of fealty towards my desires. I guide my erection inside her, leaning into her with all my weight.

She gasps as I groan. She is so incredibly tight. I fuck and fuck and fuck, wild, unrelenting. I fuck like I’m a horny teenager again. I didn’t know I still had so much energy in me. Each thrust, Brielle moans. She likes being my fuckdoll, enjoys being used by me, a hot young body and tight pussy who exist only for my pleasure.

I fuck her and she loves it. She wasn’t boasting, it was true — my dick has sent her into ecstasy. Her asshole clenches as she orgasms. I want to cum in her. Except…

Kylee is next to me. She’s recovered, and now looks jealous.

“Show me your pussy,” I say.

But she’s already leaning over the day bed, laying next to the other girl. Her butt is up in the air, her hands pull her ass open, her pussy drips. I thumb her asshole. She tenses, but begs, “More!”

I switch girls.

Pussy is pussy. But going from one girl directly to the next, all the little differences excite me. Kylee is just as tight, but it’s different. She takes my thrusts in her own peculiar way, whimpers instead of moans, likes a fast pounding rhythm more than the wild bucking I was driving into Brielle.

I look over, see Brielle fingering herself. I switch back.

I’d be in heaven with either one of the girls. But both of them? Subservient to everything I’ve asked? I’m the conquering warrior, helping himself to the vanquished king’s harem.

I look down at my spoils and decide I’m in the mood for a blonde.

I switch back to Kylee, grabbing her hips so I can fuck her at just the right angle, the one that’s pure peak pleasure, and I feel triumph begin to take it’s hold over me.

Brielle sees, and she sits up and kisses me, her velvet tongue sliding into my mouth. Ecstasy bursts free, and I buck into Kylee, pumping her full of my cum, pulse after pulse. Her pussy milks my shaft, and I keep thrusting until my erection subsides.

Done, I stagger back, finding a seat on the edge of the hot tub.

Ten minutes later I’m lounging in the heat of the sauna, intent on making my post-orgasm bliss last as long as possible. I’m reeling with wonder, replaying the events of the day, thinking back in awe that it was only just this morning that Heather came in here and sucked me off, wearing my cum on her face. And that was billed as a ‘facial.’ Then the pun registers.

I laugh out loud, “Oh, fuck.”

Brielle rolls over, looks quizzical. “What?”

“It’s nothing,” I say, “You don’t have to stay, you know. I’m about spent.”

The girls exchange a glance.

“Would you like us to leave?” Kylee asks, “You won’t offend us.”

“No, no.” I smile. “That’s not what I mean. I’m enjoying your company immensely. I just didn’t want you to feel like you had to.”

“Mmmm,” Brielle makes a pleasant sound, “You’re sweet. It’s not often I get to, just, savor the amenities, you know?”

“Me neither,” Kylee adds, laying down and closing her eyes.

I bask in the warmth, feeling my skin open up. “Well I will definitely be coming back here, if I’m allowed.”

Brielle grins, “Oh, I don’t think you’ll have any problems with that.”

The next day, the world’s the same, but I’m like a new man. Energized, confident, ready.

I call Ricky. “That place was fucking amazing. Fucking. Amazing.”

“Knew you’d like it,” he says.

“I know you can’t say,” I start, “But ballpark, what’d it cost?”

He chuckles. “You don’t wanna know.”

“I need to go back. I never knew it existed, but now I can’t live without this.”

“Wow,” he says, “The girls really did a number on you, didn’t they?”

Then he tells me the fee. It’s obscene.

“Ok,” I say, stalling, letting the plan come together in my mind, “You’ve won the bid. But this next part, it didn’t happen, understood?”

Ricky is smooth. “Entirely.”

“Add five percent to the invoice. Call it ‘contingency’ or whatever, something innocuous. Use the funds on Y&S vouchers, one per month. Take the rest as bonus for yourself, however you figure that out.”

“Well ho-lee shit, you’re making my day. It’s done. I’m sending over the paperwork now,” he says.

“You’ll have signatures in five minutes.”

My mind flashes with an image of the room service menu and I began to daydream.

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/rc2tqk/got_a_facial_massage_and_room_service_mf