Her fingers kept going—fourth button, fifth, all the way down—until the blouse was fully open. Then, with a slow roll of her shoulders, she shrugged it off completely, letting the fabric slide down her arms and pool at her feet.

She just stood there, letting me take in the view. The black lace bra was a masterpiece—delicate, sheer in places, struggling to hold the sheer weight of her massive tits.

They rose and fell with each breath, creamy skin spilling over the cups, deep cleavage glistening faintly with a sheen of warmth.

She reached behind her back, arching slightly as her fingers searched for the clasp. A small, frustrated sound escaped her lips when it didn't give right away.

"There it is," she said, voice husky, eyes locked on mine. "Your first test, Alex. Come help me with this bra. Let's see just how focused you really are."

I couldn't believe this was happening. My mouth went dry, cock straining painfully against my jeans. I stepped forward, close enough to feel the heat radiating off her body, the faint scent of her perfume and skin making my head spin.

My arms circled her, hands sliding to the warm skin of her back. She watched me the whole time—eyes dark, lips parted, breath shallow. My fingers found the clasp, fumbled once from nerves, then popped it open with a soft click.

The tension released. The bra loosened instantly.

She didn't rush. She held my gaze, then slowly peeled the straps down her shoulders, letting the lace slide away inch by inch.

The cups fell forward, and her breasts spilled free—heavy, perfect, impossibly firm for their size. Full, round melons with soft pink areolas, wide and drawn tight, crowned by stiff, rosy nipples that begged to be sucked.

Better than Brittany's. Firmer, higher, more perfect. I just stared, frozen, wanting to bury my face between them and suck until she was moaning my name.

She let the bra drop to the floor, standing there topless. Then her hands moved to the side zipper of her skirt.

The sound of it coming down was slow, deliberate. She shimmied her hips just enough to let the fabric slide over her curves, pooling at her feet.

Now she stood in nothing but a matching black lace panty—high-cut, barely covering the soft swell between her thighs, the front already darkened with a hint of wetness.

Completely on display.

Waiting.

"Still focused?" she murmured, voice low and teasing, one brow arched.

I couldn't even answer.

I was lost.

She didn't wait for my answer. Her thumbs hooked into the thin straps of her black lace panties, fingers sliding them down her hips with agonizing slowness.

The fabric clung for a second to the damp heat between her thighs before peeling away, revealing her smooth, glistening pussy—swollen lips flushed deep pink, slick with arousal, a thin trail of wetness shining on her inner thigh as the panties dropped to her ankles.

She stepped out of them gracefully, completely naked now, every curve on full display. Her body was sinful—wide hips, tiny waist, those massive tits hanging heavy, pink nipples still hard from earlier teasing.

She turned slightly, giving me a view of her round ass as she walked toward the massage table, hips swaying like she knew exactly what she was doing to me.

God, that ass. Full, firm, the kind you could grab and never let go.

I wanted to bend her over right there, spread those cheeks, and bury myself in her tight little asshole—fuck her standing, relentless, pounding until she couldn't stand.

This woman was built to be bred, day and night, over and over, and it still wouldn't be enough.

She climbed onto the table slowly, deliberately—first one knee, then the other—her ass lifting high as she settled on all fours for a moment before lowering herself onto her stomach.

Her massive breasts pressed flat beneath her, spilling out to the sides, soft flesh bulging against the padded surface. Her back arched just slightly, ass still slightly raised, the curve perfect, inviting.

Then she turned her head, resting her cheek on the table, looking back at me over her shoulder—eyes dark, lips curved in a commanding little smile.

"What are you waiting for, Alex?" she murmured, voice low and authoritative. "This is your punishment. Grab the lotion… and focus. Show me how well you can concentrate."

I was already moving.

My cock was rock-hard, straining painfully against my jeans as I stepped to the side table, grabbing the first bottle of lotion my hand found—something warm and silky, the label reading "relaxing lavender."

I popped the cap, the scent mixing with her perfume and skin, making my head spin even more.

"Ma'am," I said, voice thick, trying to keep it steady, "where should I start?"

She didn't even open her eyes fully, just murmured against the padded table, cheek still resting there. "Start from my shoulders and back, Alex. I'm so tense there."

I poured a generous amount into my palms, rubbing them together to warm it. Then I stepped close, placing my hands on her shoulders—firm, slow pressure, thumbs digging into the knots I could feel under her smooth skin.

She let out a low, approving sigh right away. "Mmm… yes."

I worked down her shoulder blades, spreading the lotion in long strokes, fingers kneading deep. Her skin was flawless—warm, soft, sliding under my hands like silk.

I moved lower, along the elegant curve of her spine, pressing harder where I felt tension, thumbs circling, palms gliding.

"Ahh…" she breathed, voice deeper now, almost a moan. "Alex, your hands feel like magic. Just put a little more pressure, will you?"

I swallowed hard, cock throbbing at the sound of her pleasure. I pressed deeper, leaning my weight into it, working the muscles along her lower back, right above the swell of her ass.

Her body relaxed under me, melting into the table, but every time my hands slid low, her hips shifted just a fraction—subtle, inviting.

"Good," she murmured, eyes half-lidded as she glanced back at me. "Keep going. Show me you can really focus."

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