Out Of Town

Dayna’s hotel spa in Miami was a haven of jasmine-scented air and soft ambient music, a stark contrast to the frenetic energy of the marketing conference she’d been attending all week. Wearing tan heels and a pencil skirt, Dayna was a vision of understated power. Her fit body—toned from cross-fit and running—moved with grace under her conference attire, but tonight, she’d traded her blazer for a plush spa robe, her skin still warm from a shower. Beneath the robe, she wore nothing, as instructed, her petite frame tingling with nervous anticipation. She’d booked the massage to unwind, a rare indulgence during her frequent work trips, but the thought of a stranger’s hands on her body made her stomach flutter. She was shy, always had been, and fiercely loyal to Tim, her boyfriend of three years, waiting back home. Their late-night texts, often spicy, kept them tethered, but tonight, she was alone, her phone silenced in her spa locker.

The spa receptionist led her to a dimly lit room, where candles flickered and a massage table stood draped in crisp white linens. “Evan will be your therapist,” the receptionist said, her smile professional. “He’s one of our best.” Dayna nodded, her throat tight, her fingers clutching the robe’s belt. She expected a woman, maybe an older man, not… Evan.

When the door opened, Dayna’s breath caught. Evan was in his early thirties, tall and lean, with dark hair swept back and green eyes that gleamed under the soft lighting. His fitted black polo and pants hugged a physique that spoke of discipline—broad shoulders, defined arms, a quiet confidence in his stride. His smile was warm, disarming, as he extended a hand. “Hi, Dayna. I’m Evan. Ready to relax?” His voice was low, smooth, like the hum of the spa’s music, and Dayna’s cheeks flushed, her handshake clumsy.

“Y-yeah, sure,” she stammered, her blue eyes darting to the floor, her hair falling over her face. He was too attractive, unfairly so, and the realization threw her. She was used to managing her shyness in boardrooms, but this felt different—intimate, exposed. Her loyalty to her boyfriend flashed in her mind, a steady anchor, but Evan’s presence was a current, tugging at her edges.

“Great,” Evan said, gesturing to the table. “You can slip under the sheet, face down, and I’ll step out to give you privacy. Take your time.” He left, the door clicking softly, and Dayna exhaled, her hands trembling as she shed the robe. Naked, her skin prickled in the cool air, her nipples stiffening, her fit body taut with nerves. She climbed onto the table, pulling the sheet to her chest, her heart racing. Just a massage, she told herself, picturing her boyfriend’s face. Nothing to worry about.

Evan knocked, reentering when she mumbled, “Okay.” He dimmed the lights further, the room glowing amber, and poured oil into his palms, the scent of lavender filling the air. “Any areas you want me to focus on?” he asked, his tone professional but warm, his eyes meeting hers briefly in the mirror above the table.

“Um… my shoulders,” Dayna said, her voice small, her face half-buried in the headrest. “They’re tight from… work.” She cursed her stammer, her shyness a weight, but Evan’s nod was reassuring.

“Got it. Just breathe and let me know if anything’s too much.” He began, his hands gliding over her shoulders, the oil slick and warm, his touch firm yet gentle. Dayna tensed, then relaxed, his fingers kneading her muscles, unraveling knots she hadn’t noticed. Her breath slowed, her body sinking into the table, but a spark flickered—his hands were strong, skilled, and the intimacy of his touch stirred something deep, unbidden. She squeezed her eyes shut, picturing Tim, but Evan’s scent—clean, faintly musky—crept into her senses, her pussy tingling faintly.

He worked down her back, his palms pressing along her spine, his thumbs circling lower, grazing the tops of her hips under the sheet. Dayna’s breath hitched, her shyness warring with a growing heat. He’s just doing his job, she thought, but her body betrayed her, her cunt moistening, her thighs pressing together. Evan’s hands paused, then resumed, slower, more deliberate, as if sensing her shift. “Everything okay?” he asked, his voice softer, closer, his breath brushing her ear.

“Y-yeah,” she whispered, her face flaming, her blue eyes fluttering open to meet his in the mirror. His gaze was steady, a hint of something—curiosity, desire?—flickering in his green eyes. She swallowed, her loyalty to her boyfriend a mantra, but her cunt pulsed, the oil slick between her thighs, her nipples hardening against the table.

He moved to her legs, folding the sheet to expose her calves, his hands kneading her muscles, inching higher. Dayna’s heart pounded, her shyness screaming retreat, but her body arched slightly, craving more. His fingers brushed the backs of her thighs, the touch electric, and she gasped, soft but audible. Evan paused, his hands hovering, then pressed deeper, his thumbs grazing the crease where her thighs met her ass. “This okay?” he murmured, his voice heavy, the professionalism slipping.

Dayna’s mind raced, guilt clawing at her, but her cunt throbbed, her juices seeping onto the sheet. “M-maybe… a little higher,” she whispered, her voice barely hers, her shyness drowning in desire. Evan’s hands slid up, massaging her inner thighs, his fingers brushing her outer lips, slick with oil and her own wetness. She moaned, low and desperate, her hips lifting, her loyalty fracturing under the weight of her need.

Evan’s touch grew bolder, his fingers parting her thighs, one hand slipping under the sheet to cup her ass, his thumb grazing her cunt, teasing her swollen clit. “You’re so tense,” he said, his voice a low growl, his eyes locked on hers in the mirror. “Let me help.” Dayna’s breath sobbed, her body trembling, her mind a storm of guilt and lust. She should stop him, think of Tim, but her cunt clenched, begging for more.

“I… I have a boyfriend,” she stammered, her voice breaking, her blue eyes pleading for absolution, but her hips rocked, chasing his touch.

“I won’t tell,” Evan whispered, his thumb circling her clit, slow and deliberate, her juices coating his fingers. “Just let go.” He slid a finger inside her, her cunt tight and dripping, and Dayna cried out, her shyness incinerated, her body surrendering. His finger curled, stroking her G-spot, his other hand kneading her ass, spreading her cheeks, his thumb teasing her tight hole.

Dayna’s moans filled the room, her hips bucking, her cunt gushing, the sheet soaked beneath her. Evan added a second finger, fucking her deeper, his thumb pressing into her ass, the dual sensation shattering her. “Fuck,” she gasped, her voice raw, her loyalty a distant echo, her body consumed. He leaned closer, his lips brushing her ear, his breath hot. “Come for me,” he growled, his fingers relentless, his thumb plunging deeper into her ass.

Her climax built, a tidal wave, her cunt clenching, her ass pulsing, her screams primal. She squirted, her cum spraying across the table, soaking Evan’s hand, the sheet, the floor, her body convulsing, her blue eyes rolling back, her hair plastered to her sweat-slick face. Evan kept going, his fingers pumping, drawing out her orgasm, her cum dripping, her moans a broken chant of “Oh God, oh fuck.” A second wave hit, her cunt gushing again, her ass tightening, her body shaking, the table slick with her release.

She collapsed, panting, her body spent, her mind reeling. Evan withdrew, his hands gentle, wiping her down with a warm towel, his smile soft but knowing. “You needed that,” he said, his voice low, his eyes lingering. Dayna nodded, her shyness flooding back, guilt crashing in. She thought of her boyfriend, her betrayal deep in her chest, but her cunt still pulsed, sated yet hungry. Evan stepped out of the room and gently shut the door. With her legs still shaking she heard a slight noise from the closet in the corner of the room. She lifted her head up to see what it was. Her heart skipped a beat and she laid in shock as she saw the closet door slowly open. It took a second for her eyes to adjust in the dim light. 

As the door opened Dayna could see that there was someone in the closet. She instinctively reached to cover her bare breasts from whoever had been in the closet. Her chest pounding her eyes focused harder to see. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Standing in the closet doorway was Tim, her boyfriend. What? How? A million things went racing through her head. He seen everything that had just happened? He set this up? What is happening? She froze and just starred at him, her mouth still open in disbelief. “You’ve been a bad little girl D”, he said. As her eyes drifted down from his he stepped more out of the shadow. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and as she gazed down further she could make out his hard cock gripped tight in his hand. Her panic turned to disbelief, then carnal excitement and she could feel her pussy start to flood all over again. She had in fact been bad, very bad. And as Tim slowly walked towards her with his cock throbbing and bobbing with each step she knew he was going to punish her and her pulsing pussy in the absolute best way. She was not wrong.