Stacy returns to the massage table for another appointment, her body completely bare and vulnerable as she settles onto the familiar surface face-down. The masseur wastes no time, his hands going straight to the lush, round globes of her ass, warm oil splashing across her cheeks and dripping down her crack. He spends long, deliberate minutes simply massaging her backside, kneading the firm muscle with deep, rhythmic presses, spreading her cheeks apart with his thumbs to expose her tight, pink pucker before letting them close again, teasing her with glimpses of what is to come. He never leaves her backside, his entire focus locked on worshipping every inch of her ass. Once he has her thoroughly relaxed and slick with oil, his face finally sinks between her cheeks, his nose pressed against her skin as he inhales her scent. She moans into the cushion, he grips her firmly to keep her offered up for his devotion. His lips and tongue trace the sensitive skin of her crack, the crease where thigh meets cheek, every surrounding inch except the center itself, building her anticipation until she is trembling. She pushes back against his face with eager little rolls of her hips, silently begging for more of the filthy attention he's showering on her most private area. He obliges with enthusiasm.
