Masseur's Secret Fling with the Shy Siren

33 year old Jaret Silliphant is a fidgety male that has anxiety with a beard and a mustache and he likes to smokes weed he is a masseur who meets 42 year old Jasmine Marie Murray a brown hair, brown eyes, self-conscious shy plus size female with thick thighs and voluptuous big floppy tits as one of his clients and things start to get hot and heavy because he fully because infatuated with her just staring at her body gets him hard.

The massage room smelled like sandalwood and weed, a hazy mix that clung to Jaret’s beard as he adjusted the table towel for the third time. His fingers twitched, restless. He needed another hit before his next client walked in—a quick one to steady his nerves. But then the door opened. Jasmine hesitated in the doorway, her thick thighs pressing together as she shuffled inside. She hugged her arms across her soft, heavy chest, eyes darting away when Jaret looked at her. "First time?" His voice came out rougher than he meant it to. She nodded, chewing her bottom lip. "I—I don’t usually do this." Fuck. The way her tits swayed when she moved, the curve of her hips under that loose dress—his cock twitched against his slacks. He forced himself to breathe. "Lie face down," he said, barely hiding the hunger in his voice. She obeyed, and when her body sank into the table, her ass pressed up just enough to make his mouth water. Jaret’s palms burned. This was going to be a long—very fucking hard—session.

Jaret rolled his shoulders, cracking his knuckles before spreading oil between his palms. The slick warmth coated his fingers as he pressed them to Jasmine’s shoulders, kneading slow circles into her tense muscles. She let out a quiet sigh, her body easing under his touch. His thumbs traced the dip of her spine, working lower, lower—until his hands framed the swell of her ass. The thin drape of the sheet clung to her curves, barely hiding the soft give of her flesh as he dug in with deliberate pressure. "You’re so tight here," he murmured, voice low. His fingertips brushed the crease where her thigh met her hip, teasing. Jasmine tensed for a second, then exhaled shakily. "It’s—ah—stress." Jaret smirked, dragging his palms back up to her waist. "Lucky for you, I’m real good at relieving that." His thumbs hooked under the sheet, tugging it down just an inch. Enough to reveal the dimples at the base of her spine. His cock throbbed, straining against his zipper. Every press of his hands was bolder now, possessive. He could smell her—warm skin, a hint of vanilla lotion—and it took everything in him not to bury his face between her thighs right then. "Roll over," he said hoarsely. She stilled. Then, slowly, she obeyed. The sheet slipped, her tits spilling free, nipples already peaked. Jaret’s breath caught. *Fuck.*

Jaret’s gaze burned over Jasmine’s exposed body—the soft swell of her belly, the thick curve of her thighs, the way her dark nipples hardened under his stare. His cock pulsed, painfully hard now. "You’re gorgeous," he growled, not bothering to hide the hunger in his voice. Jasmine flushed, her fingers twitching like she wanted to cover herself, but she didn’t. Instead, she bit her lip, watching as Jaret dragged his oil-slick hands up her calves, thumbs pressing into the delicate skin behind her knees. His touch was firmer now, less like a massage and more like worship. He mapped the heat of her inner thighs, fingers tracing dangerously close to where she was softest, dampest. "Jaret—" Her breath hitched as his knuckles brushed her folds, just for a second. "Too much?" he asked, though he didn’t stop. His thumb circled her clit through the sheet, firm and slow. She arched, gasping. "No. *God*, no." That was all the invitation he needed. He hooked his fingers into the sheet and yanked it aside, baring her completely. His mouth watered. "Fuck, look at you." He didn’t hesitate—just lowered his head between her legs and licked a hot stripe up her slit. Jasmine cried out, her hands flying to his hair, gripping tight. Jaret groaned against her, tongue circling her clit before plunging deep. She tasted even better than he’d imagined.

Jaret’s tongue worked her relentlessly—broad, wet strokes followed by teasing flicks that made Jasmine’s hips jerk. Her thighs trembled against his ears, the scent of her arousal thick in the air. He dragged her closer, gripping her ass to keep her from squirming away as he sucked her clit, slow and filthy. “Oh—*fuck*—” She arched, her fingers tightening in his hair, but he didn’t let up. Every gasp, every whimper just spurred him on. He slid two fingers inside her without warning, curling them just right, and she nearly sobbed. Her cunt clenched around him, hot and slick. Jaret growled, fucking her with his fingers while his tongue kept up its ruthless rhythm. She was close. He could feel it in the way her body tensed, hear it in the broken moans spilling from her lips. “Cum for me,” he demanded, his voice rough against her thigh. Jasmine cried out, her back bowing as she shattered. Jaret didn’t stop—just worked her through it, lapping up every last shudder, every pulse of her release. Only when she went limp did he pull back, licking his lips. Her chest heaved. “H-holy shit.” Jaret smirked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His cock ached, begging for attention. “We’re just getting started.”

Jaret didn’t give her a chance to recover. He dragged her up by the hips, flipping her onto her stomach, and pinned her down with a hand between her shoulder blades. The wet, swollen heat of her cunt glistened in the dim light. He unzipped his pants pulled them down and his cock popped out, he gripped his cock, smearing the head through her slick folds before notching himself at her entrance. "Tell me you want it," he growled, rolling his hips just enough to tease. Jasmine shuddered, arching back against him. "Fuck me. Now." He didn’t need to be told twice. Jaret slammed into her in one brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt. The tight grip of her around him wrenched a ragged groan from his chest. She gasped, nails scraping the sheets. "Oh, *God*—" Jaret set a relentless pace from the start, each snap of his hips driving her deeper into the mattress. The slap of skin echoed in the room, her ass reddening under his grip. He leaned over, biting her shoulder as he fucked her harder, faster. "Gonna make you cum again," he rasped. His hand slid under her, fingers finding her clit, rubbing tight circles. Jasmine whimpered, her body tightening like a vice around him. "J-Jaret—!" He didn’t slow down. Not when she screamed, not when her cunt spasmed around him. He chased his own release, pounding into her until his vision blurred. "Fuck, *fuck*—" His grip on her hip turned bruising as he cummed, emptying himself inside her with a guttural groan. Collapsing onto her back, he dragged her against his chest, both of them breathing hard. Jasmine traced idle circles on his forearm, her body still trembling. "Told you I was good at relieving stress," he muttered, pressing a kiss to her damp shoulder. She laughed breathlessly. "Asshole." Jaret smirked. "Yeah, but you love it." And when she turned her head to kiss him, slow and filthy, he knew she did.