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Happy end massage

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foyer of the same marble as the lobby desk, a long
hall with nine doors stretched out before me. With four doors to
either side, any reasonable numbering sequence would put hers at
the end. One sane numbering sequence later, I was facing her door.
I knocked, not using the palm plate signal. I didn’t want her to
know who it was, yet.
I could almost imagine the click of her heels as she walked
towards the door. I could almost smell whatever perfume she would
be wearing. I unfortunately was not prepared for the door to snap
open and a taser to be jabbed in Happy end massage  my gut. Brief flashes of black
stiletto heels and an expensive Chanel perfume stabbed into my mind
as I collapsed to the floor. My head hit the doorframe, my
consciousness left with my breakfast.

A swirl of pain and blurred vision greeted my return to
to the waking world. I could taste vomit, and blood from a split,
swollen lip. It felt as though I was on a soft surface, like a bed.
My wrists and ankles testified that I was tied down. As the visual
details of my surroundings sorted themselves out, my conjectures
about ties and a bed proved true. Since the decor matched the
hotel’s, I surmised the bedroom to be the one in room 4005. I
couldn’t have been out longer than about 30 minutes, judging from
the state of the cut on my lip.
“Ms. Maris, I assume you are still here. I must inform you
that assaulting a federal agent is punishable by imprisonment and
forced reeducation.”
She walked in from the living room, a smile on her face, a
glass of wine in her hand.
“You aren’t in a position to arrest me. My previous crimes,
which I assume brought you here, outweigh this little one. I’m
afraid I would be in for more than reeducation.”
She wore a tight, leather Happy end massage  dress. It ended quite a bit above
the knee. Her color appeared to be black, from hair to eyes, from
dress to stockings to heels. That damn Chanel scent only helped to
drive home her beauty.
“Then I assume you intend to leave me here and make good your
escape?”
She laughed. I hate that. It means they’ve got something they
want to do to you. She walked around the bed, to the left side, and
brushed some of my hair from my forehead with her hand.
“Isn’t that a nasty bump you have? I hope you don’t mind the
pain. I enjoyed using the taser on you. In answer to your question,
I intend to enjoy myself. I intend to enjoy you.”
On the bedside table I could see my gun in its holster. She
opened one of the drawers and removed one of those new
plasti-knives. They can score steel plate. They cut flesh like
butter. Dana then proceeded to cut my clothing from my body. What
she intended to do finally percolated through my pain fogged mind.
“Rape? Are you trying to Happy end massage  compensate for an oppressive father?
failed relationships?” The sarcasm evoked a frown from her. “But
tell me one thing. Will you kill me afterwards?”
“Psychoanalyzing me won’t work, Mr. Federal Agent Man. I may
kill you, or I may not. If it feels very, very good, I could let
you live.”
Testing my bonds, I felt that the left bedpost, securing my
left wrist, was somewhat loose. Dana had finished cutting the
clothes from me. She stood up and unzipped her leather dress,
letting it fall to the floor. It was tough not to get a raging hard
on at the sight of her nearly naked body. Taut, toned muscle
revealed itself, dispelling any mystery of how she had carried me
to the bed. She wasn’t wearing a bra, or panties. Just a garter
belt to hold up her stockings. As she reached down to unhook one,
I spoke, figuring I should play along.
“Don’t. I’ll like it better if you leave them on. Please?”
She gave me a suspicious look, but left the stockings on. The
bed was long enough for her Happy end massage to kneel between my legs. She lowered
her head to my cock, her hair cascading about my thighs and
stomach. Taking the head of me into her mouth, she caressed it with
her tongue. Any thought of holding back, any attempt at resistance,
melted away. A stone cold corpse’s limp prick would have stood at
attention for her.
Satisfied at my reaction and my hardness, she left the bed to
return to the table. Out of that same drawer came a little jar of
lubricant. I was confused, surely -she- could get wet enough. Dana
got back on the bed, straddling my thighs. She applied a thick coat
of the lube to my cock. Then, one hand behind her aiming me, the
other supporting her weight, she took me into her ass. She just sat
right down and took the length of me inside her with one stroke. To
my surprise, my erection didn’t shrink. If it could have gotten
harder, it would have.
Bringing the hand she’d used to aim me around to her front,
she plunged a finger into her pussy. Then two fingers, then three.
Her thumb buzzed her clit like an angry insect. She slid up, then
down, up, then down, her short strokes insuring I didn’t fall out.
Driven by what I was feeling, by the warm, soft walls of her ass
around my cock, I began to Happy end massage  thrust up to meet her, to move away when
she did. Retaining something of my rational self, I also began to
pull at my bonds in time to our movements.
Her motion got faster. Her lips pulled back from clenched
teeth. She shuddered, eyes fluttering, and threw herself forward,
nails raking my chest, and bit my split