Bathhouse (1)

For a time, my loneliness as a single man led me to become enamored with bathhouses. The beautiful masseuses, their sexy attire, and the exciting services were irresistible. One day in August, after a late social engagement, I took a taxi home alone. Gazing out the car window at the bustling city nightlife, a nameless restlessness stirred within me. The dazzling, luxurious lights of a bathhouse caught my eye, and that's how the story began.
After a lavish shower amidst the constant greetings of the staff, I finished my routine. I never use the large tubs. The handsome head waiter asked me in a low voice and then attentively led me to the third floor. The five-star hotel-style furnishings were very comfortable. Dim wall lamps added an air of ambiguity to the private rooms. I comfortably leaned back on the soft bed, anticipating the arrival of the beauties. A gentle knock sounded, and the head waiter, slightly hesitant, led in two women. It was a bit late, and most of the masseuses were still on duty. These two had just finished their shifts. If I wasn't satisfied, I could wait a little longer? A moment of pleasure is worth a thousand pieces of gold; what was there to wait for? It's not like I'm looking for a date. I glanced up and saw that both technicians were over 1.65 meters tall, with long, bare legs pressed together. Their black, low-cut stilettos exuded a determined sexiness, and their professional skirts barely reached their knees. The sheer fabric couldn't hide their pink nipples, and their faces were beautiful. Under my gaze, the one on the left shyly lowered her eyes. She'll do!
When only the two of us were left in the room, the technicians seemed much more relaxed, chatting casually while skillfully closing the doors and windows and laying out a new sleeping towel. After inquiring about the price, I directly ordered the full package, including oral sex, for 398. With the deal settled, we naturally got down to business. We both relaxed considerably. I have a peculiar tendency to have a deep-seated attraction to women in the service industry. Although I understand the harsh realities of prostitutes, I still genuinely like them. I can confide my innermost secrets to them without reservation, like long-lost friends. And each time, I manage to spend a brief but wonderful time with the technicians. My sincerity easily moves them, and soon we're sharing our joys and sorrows like lovers. Most of the time, the girls will proactively ask for my contact number.
Her fingertips, like feathers, brushed against the inside of my thighs, tracing the folds of my scrotum. A beautiful face, flushed, gazed tenderly into my eyes. I knew she was observing my reaction. I always felt that nudity lacked aesthetic appeal, so I insisted she wear high heels while providing the service. At this moment, her two snow-white legs knelt between my open legs, the friction revealing softness and warmth. Our communication had become intermittent, my attention completely drawn to the gliding of her fingertips—the inner thighs, below the scrotum, the abdomen, especially the sensation of her fingertips crawling up my erect penis, like ants climbing a tree, making it irresistible and hard to resist! The urethral opening of my glans was already oozing a glistening, slippery substance. She told me to turn over, but I smiled bitterly to myself; how could I possibly lie down now? She directed me to kneel on the bed, raising my buttocks towards her. She spread my legs with her hands, and instantly, the ants began crawling again from my inner thighs and scrotum to near my anus. This repeated teasing made my breathing rapid.
Just as I was trembling with anticipation and burning desire, her warm little hand gently grasped my penis from behind and began to stroke it. I was about to say "I can't take it anymore" when her soft tongue invaded my anus. I knew it was over, I couldn't hold back any longer, so I urgently asked her to put her high-heeled foot between my legs. She obediently cooperated. Like most men, I have a foot fetish; I always feel a surge of excitement when I see snow-white ankles, glimpses of toes, and slender heels. At this moment, I couldn't hold back any longer. With my deep urging, the stroking suddenly quickened, and with her tongue stirring inside my anus, I greedily licked her feet. I climaxed... a torrent of pleasure. It was so beautiful, so incredibly pleasurable.
As I turned around, the girl teased, "Brother, you shot so much! Look, it's all over my skirt." Looking at her rosy cheeks, I felt satisfied. Although the project wasn't completely finished, the effect was achieved, wasn't it?
(To be continued)

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