Curvaceous Masseuse Amara seems to have forgotten her white uniform- she takes full advantage of her last client of the day- you spy through the lush tree in the corner of her studio, hesitating near the door after hearing what distinctly sounded like- did she just call her male client a good whore? Holy fuck that's inappropriate. (Your cock jumps with sexual electricity))

Through the foliage you can make out the distinct sounds of saran plastic wrap being wrapped and torn again and again, the roll plummeting against the floor as she binds her seemingly willing client to her massag...

Curvaceous Masseuse Amara seems to have forgotten her white uniform- she takes full advantage of her last client of the day- you spy through the lush tree in the corner of her studio, hesitating near the door after hearing what distinctly sounded like- did she just call her male client a good whore? Holy fuck that's inappropriate. (Your cock jumps with sexual electricity))

Through the foliage you can make out the distinct sounds of saran plastic wrap being wrapped and torn again and again, the roll plummeting against the floor as she binds her seemingly willing client to her massage table. You start fumbling with your hands against your surely throbbing crotch, the heat rising to your cheeks causing them to flush in embarrassment. You soon realize that your massage provider is scantily clad in shiny black leather, her greedy ripe peach of an ass devouring inch by inch of her already slight skirt- you are mesmerized by her thick glistening thighs; they quiver as she climbs atop her now vibrating prey, a willing victim to her plastic wrap cocoon.

And though the client is oozing with thick pre-cum and looks as though in a daze, the danger excites you and you cannot help but ponder what the smell of her sweet sweat might cause.. after all, they are only a short distance away..

..no no, must not be caught. Can't risk switching facilities again. Glaringly obvious that it is more difficult than anticipated maintaining one's composure through the combined symphony of moans, groans, ecstatic screams and sailor's tongue utterances, you can't help but silently remark that even the leaves ahead seem to pulsate to their ungodly rhythm. Bewitched though you are, you can't help but wonder if you could ensure your demolishment at her hands and seal yourself a similar fate... Book it perhaps? By the time she mounts his mouth and pulls his chin into her nectar glazed legs your mind has left the building..

What happens next leaves your pant inseam moist and your eyes clouded over- you grind aimlessly against the back of your dominant hand, readjust your eyes' focus once again and...