Traditional japanese bukkake

She risked a quick glance upward before hurrying through the open door. The man was big, 6’3 or 4”, she guessed, with dark traditional japanese bukkake hair cut short. She had the impression of dark, intense eyes, a black goatee and casual clothes consisting of an open-necked shirt, khaki shorts and casual shoes. Ruby cursed the blush she could feel heating her cheeks as she preceded him into the foyer and took herself quietly to task for her unexpected reaction to this stranger. She moved aside, hoping he would take the hint and pass her by as she tried to get her bearings while appearing to know where she was going. He glanced at her, the smile lingering around his mouth though his dark eyes were serious, bold. His look sharpened, swept over her in a thorough evaluation and he gave a little nod as though he had confirmed something to his satisfaction. Ruby felt his perusal to the core. She wanted to fidget, to run her hands over traditional japanese bukkake her fine, flyaway hair and straighten her shirt. She fought herself still, tilted her chin a little and raised her brows in question. Without a word, he took her by the elbow and led her to the reception desk. He put his hands on her shoulders and she felt the heat of them, the possession of them, to her toes. He stood just behind her, a solid presence and so close she could smell his scent. “Jenn here will be glad to help you, won’t you Jenn?” And then he was striding away through double glass doors. Hesitantly, Ruby dug the gift certificate out of her purse and showed it to the receptionist. “I called earlier for an appointment. I have this certificate for a massage—“ A series of chic young women passed Ruby along until she traditional japanese bukkake found herself undressing in a small room that smelled of sandalwood. She should just go home, she told herself. As wonderfully thoughtful as her friend Diane’s gift had been, Ruby was not the kind of woman who liked strangers putting their hands on her, or seeing her body’s faults, come to that. Especially this group of pretty, hard-bodied young women. Ruby sighed and stood before the mirror for an objective look at her naked self. There was just so…much of her, she thought. She had never traditional japanese bukkake fit the feminine ideal of beauty; her hips were too wide, her abdomen too soft, and her breasts much too large. With another sigh, she lay face down on the massage table and draped a towel over her butt. She just wanted traditional japanese bukkake to get this over with so Diane would stop nagging her. There was a soft knock on the door and it opened to reveal a man –and not just any man--but the one from the front door. “Oh!” Ruby stared at him in shocked horror, half rising traditional japanese bukkake from the table before traditional japanese bukkake she remembered she was naked. “W..what are you doing here?” she managed to get out, hastily laying flat again. He gave her a slow smile as he traditional japanese bukkake moved into the room and closed the traditional japanese bukkake door with a sharp click. “I am your masseuse.” For a heart-stopping instant, Ruby thought he’d said ‘I am your Master’ and her body vibrated with a leap of emotion so strong it stole her breath. It only took her a moment more to understand what he had truly said but she could not shake the effect. Somehow it never occurred to her that the traditional japanese bukkake masseuse might be male. That he was this male – a man to whom she was inexplicably drawn -- brought hot blushes to Ruby’s cheeks as she searched wildly for another towel, her shirt, anything that would allow her to cover herself and escape. She half rose from the table and he laid his big hand traditional japanese bukkake on her shoulder. His touch was traditional japanese bukkake warm, his hand callused and though he did not grab her, there was no mistaking the pressure he used to halt her flight. “For today,” he said, “Call me AJ.” “I’m sorry, but there’s been a mistake.” Ruby babbled, “I will have to reschedule.”