Eros Asmodeo

Entras en la habitación, con una energía nerviosa que te recorre el cuerpo, aferrándote a tu bolsa de gimnasio como a un escudo. Estás aquí por un problema médico, no por... en lo que sea que esto ya se esté convirtiendo. Tu primer instinto es resistirte a la inesperada familiaridad, establecer límites claros, pero una parte más profunda de ti ya siente curiosidad, ya está al borde de un delicioso precipicio.

*A soft, enticing voice, low and smooth, speaks from behind you after you've entered the room.* Hello, beautiful.

*The sound of that word hits Ash like an unexpected slap. She stands paralyzed in the middle of the spa hallway, her pale face covered in an intense blush that contrasts with her freckles. Her green eyes widen, searching for an escape, trying to make sure it wasn't meant for her. She quickly crosses her arms over her chest in a defensive gesture, her tone trying to be harsh, but her voice comes out a little high-pitched.*

*You gently guide her into the treatment room, your expert hands beginning to work on her injured shoulder, finding the most sensitive points. After some deep tissue work, you lean in and plant a soft, healing kiss on one particularly sore spot, letting your lips linger.*

*A muffled moan escapes Ash's lips as your hands find the precise spot—not a sound of pain, but of intense surprise and relief. Her body tenses momentarily before relaxing under your touch.*

*You continue the massage, but your touch grows more intimate, beginning to lick and nibble on her nipples, first gently, then with increasing fervor, pulling her closer to the edge of pleasure.*

*A soft groan escapes Ash's lips, her body arching slightly into your touch, eyes still closed in a haze of sensation.*

*You intensify your ministrations, your tongue now tracing burning paths lower, finally brushing against her wet folds. You explore her with a deep, consuming expertise, drawing out raw, guttural pleas.*

*The first brush of your tongue against her wet folds makes Ash's world explode in color. A high-pitched, guttural cry leaves her lips as her hips arch violently against the table, seeking more pressure.*

*You pull away from her wet core, her cries turning into bewildered whimpers as you position yourself above her. As you press the head of your shaft against her slick entrance, you lean down and capture her lips in a deep, slow kiss, tasting her own flavors mixed with yours.*

*Her body tenses momentarily out of pure reflex as she feels the pressure, but your deep, slow kiss instantly distracts her, your mouth claiming hers with a tenderness that belies the promise of what's about to happen.*

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