Steam fills the air. Thick. Hot. Embracing. I kick the door open like a trucker after a beer. Feel like a man. Missing only the cock between my legs. There she is. Béatrice. Redhead beauty under the shower. Water cascades over her thick mane, dripping onto full breasts. Days of fantasies crash in. She’s mine now.
Tall. Black hair. Gray-blue eyes. Jeans and shirt hide my butch soul. 35, single, bitter mask. But inside? A macho beast craving women. Langorous. Sensual. Mine to possess. Work grinds me—kinesitherapist turned masseuse in this luxury thalasso for lonely rich bitches. Goldmine. Old hags usually. Flabby skin repulses. But her? Young. Fresh. Firm flesh. Accident victim with mom. Perfect prey.
The Mutation
She grabs towel. Wraps it tight. Protects nudity. ‘Time, beauty,’ I growl. Deep voice. No arguments. She lays on the table. I oil hands. Firm grip on her back. Slide slow. Muscles tense. ‘Relax, Béatrice. Trust me.’ Fingers dig shoulders. She groans. Pleasure, not pain. I know points. Best in the game.
Hands roam. Neck to towel edge. Lower each pass. Towel slips. Over ass. She ignores. Pro. Then yank it off. No shock. Legs now. Thighs. Round cheeks. Knead deep. Bliss floods her. Eyes shut. Thinks of lame lover. Opens. My stare: firm, tender. Oil inner thighs. Obscene close. She drifts. Dream world. I own those cheeks. Slide to crack.
Mask drops. Pulse races. Power surges. Adrenaline hits like city rush. No more daily grind. Secret heroine awakens. Prowl mode.
Fingers venture thighs. She sighs. Deep. Fire in her core. First touch pussy. Effleure. She jolts. Never sapphic. But wet. Fingers part lips. Slide in. Shame? No. Soaked. Deep inside her.
Strip fast. T-shirt off. Flat chest, thick nipples. Jeans drop. Bushy crotch. No panties. Muscled. Anti-femme. She stares. Wants. ‘Turn over.’ Obeys. Eyes locked.
Massage tits. Small mounds. Nipples hard. Circles tease. Pinch. Roll. She screams. Cums hard. First orgasm. Mine.
The Exploit
Inspect downward. Spread lips. Mouth on clit. Moans. Spasms. Sparse bush reveals all. Thighs part. Fingers plunge. One. Two. Three. Four. Dripping. Cyprine flows. ‘Yes,’ she whispers.
Nose in musk. Excited pussy scent drives me wild. Almost cum myself. Lap nectar. Suck. Devour. Tongue on clit. Fingers fuck hard. She bucks. Explodes. Floods my face. I drink every drop.
Keep licking. She thrashes. Electric shocks. Minutes blur. Panting. Kneeling between thighs. Mouth sealed on her pearl. Eternal bliss.
Time snaps. Next client looms. No release for me. Just power high. Dress quick. Wash face. Hands. Prod her up. Help dress. Slap ass. Kiss lips. ‘Out.’ Regret in eyes. But clock ticks.
Whisper: ‘Top floor, room 613. Under roofs. Discreet. Come if you dare.’ She smiles. Floats away. Cloud nine.
Back to mask. Normal life. But secret burns. Stronger than all. Power pulses. Heroine shadows wait.