MASSAGE HAPPY ENDING – JACKIE’S OH
“Massage Happy Ending – Jackie’s O: A Titillating Tale of Touch & Release”
Jackie Oh was a master of her craft. As a licensed massage therapist, her capable hands had worked magic on countless bodies, kneading away stress and tension like modeling clay. But Jackie had a secret gift – an extrasensory talent for detecting her clients’ deepest desires, even the most illicit.
Take Mr. Johnson, for instance. Mild-mannered accountant by day, closet Dom by night. Jackie could tell the moment he entered the dimly lit parlor, his eyes darting nervously, his palms slightly damp. Before he’d even disrobed, Jackie was setting the scene, dimming the lights, cueing up some ambient New Age music, and smoothing a warm, scented oil into her palms.
As Jackie worked over his broad, ehanced shoulders, she monitored Mr. Johnson’s breathing, his subtle facial tics, the tensing and releasing of his muscles beneath her skilled touch. She kneaded, stroked, rubbed, and caressed, tricking his body into a state of total relaxation. It was her signature move – the “Jackie Oh Trance”.
Tsking softly over a knot in his lower back, Jackie let her fingers linger, her hands dipping suggestively lower with each pass, skimming the sensitive small of his back, his round buttocks, the backs of his thighs. Her oil-slicked hands slid between his legs, her thumbs grazing the soft skin of his inner thighs, his balls and taint ever so lightly.
Mr. Johnson tensed, then exhaled with a whimper, his cock twitching against the soundproof massage table. “Is that a massage tool in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” Jackie cooed, letting her hand cup his sack, feeling the weight of him.
“Both, Mistress,” he replied, his voice thready with need. “Both.”
Jackie Oh smirked, letting her hand travel up the length of his shaft, kneading his cock like she would a stress knot. The massage had taken an exciting turn, and she was more than happy to oblige her client’s hidden longings.
Lubing up two fingers, Jackie teased his puckered hole, pushing past the ring of muscle, fucking him slowly, rhythmically with her fingers as her other hand stroked his weeping cock. Mr. Johnson’s prostate wasn’t hard to find, and the ah-ing gasps that escaped him told Jackie she’d found gold.
“I think the massage is over, don’t you?” Jackie purred, leaning down to whisper naughty things into his ear. “I’m going to make you come so hard, you’ll see stars. And then you’re going to thank me. Politely.”
“Yes, Mistress,” he whimpered, flexing into her touch, his cock pulsing in her slick fist. “Thank you, Mistress.”
Jackie Oh smirked, intensifying her ministrations. She knew just how to make him lose control, just how to make him fly apart at the seams. Her fingers, her words, her whole being focused on his pleasure, his annihilation.
And it wasn’t long before Mr. Johnson came undone, his body wracked with pleasure, his voice ragged with release. Jackie lapped up his spend, sealing her lips over the head of his cock and sucking, coaxing out every drop of his seed.
“Thank you, Mistress. Thank you,” he chanted, his body limp and spent on the table.
Jackie Oh smiled as she cleaned up, her secret talent fulfilled once again. She was more than just a massage therapist – she was a sexual virtuoso, and she had a gift for really getting down and dirty (well, comparatively speaking). With a wink and a wave, she sent Mr. Johnson on his way, ready to take on the next lucky client.
But that was neither here nor there. Point is, Jackie Oh was the cat’s pajamas, and her expertise in the bedroom was the stuff of legend. If you ever found yourself in need of a little “extra” in your massage, well, Jackie was your girl. And trust us, we know.
