Rejuvenating Facial

Bailey Brooke strolls into the massage parlor like she owns the damn place. Ryan spots her right away—regular customer, easy on the eyes. He asks if she wants the usual sixty-minute Swedish rubdown. She flashes that bright blonde grin and says nah, fresh off a breakup and feeling like spoiling herself. He nods, sympathetic but quick on his feet, suggests something extra indulgent—a mud wrap or maybe a facial. Her eyes light up. A facial sounds perfect right now. He leads her back. In the private room he tells her to lose the top, hop in the chair, and drape a towel over those natural tits. He steps out while she strips slow, letting every inch breathe. When he knocks she’s already settled, towel barely hanging on. He starts slow—brushes that long blonde hair, works his fingers over her scalp till her shoulders drop. He gives a gentle tug to pull a second towel over her hair, keeping it clean. Then comes the light cream, rubbed in soft circles across her face before he wipes it away with a warm towel. He notices her eyes look a little swollen and calls it: she’s been crying. They talk while his hands keep moving—her chest, the soft upper curves of her breasts—and the chatter turns easy, flirty. Ryan says any guy who let her go is straight-up stupid; if he had her he’d spoil her every single day. That lands. She pulls him in, mouths hungry, and the massage turns into straight-up hardcore heat. He buries his face between her thighs, she swallows him in a slick sixty-nine, fingers working deep while tongues trade places. When he finally gives her that thick facial she’s been craving, it’s the perfect messy finish to a breakup that needed burying.