**Title: The Massage That Led to More**

Michelle, my sister-in-law, had been coming over to my place a lot since her divorce—mostly just to vent and drink wine. But tonight, she showed up in tight yoga pants and a tank top that clung to her curves in a way that made it impossible not to stare. She was complaining about how sore she was from the gym, rubbing her lower back dramatically.

“Shit, I really messed up my back today,” she groaned, stretching her arms behind her head, making her tits push against the thin fabric.

I cleared my throat. “I can give you a massage if you want.” The second the words left my mouth, I knew it was risky. But the way she bit her lip and hesitated only made it hotter.

“Mmm… yeah, actually, that sounds amazing,” she finally said, slowly pulling her tank top off, leaving just her sports bra.

I swallowed hard as she laid face-down on my couch, her ass high in the air, those yoga pants hugging every inch. I grabbed the lotion and knelt beside her, starting slow, working my hands over her shoulders. She moaned almost immediately, the sound low and breathy.

“You’re so good at this,” she murmured into the couch cushion.

I moved down her back, my fingers digging into her sides, skimming just above the waistband of her pants. She spread her legs slightly, as if inviting me lower. My cock was already hard in my jeans, pressing painfully against the zipper.

I let my hands drift lower, massaging just above her ass, and she arched into it with a needy whimper. “You’re killing me,” she whispered.

“Tell me where you need it,” I said, my voice rough.

“My hips… lower,” she breathed.

I didn’t hesitate. My fingers slid under the waistband of her yoga pants, pushing them down just enough to expose the curve of her ass. She didn’t stop me.

I smoothed lotion over her skin, massaging slow circles into her cheeks. Her breath hitched when my thumbs brushed the inside of her thighs. “Fuck,” she moaned.

That was all the permission I needed. I tugged her pants down further, revealing her bare ass—no panties. My dick throbbed at the sight.

“You’re not wearing anything,” I growled.

She shifted under my touch, spreading her legs wider. “I didn’t think you’d go this far.”

“Too late now.” My finger slid between her thighs, brushing against her pussy. She was already wet, her lips swollen and hot. I groaned at the feel of her, circling her clit lightly.

“Oh my god,” she gasped, pushing back against my hand.

“You like that?” I teased, rubbing faster.

“Y-yes,” she whimpered, her hips rolling.

I pushed two fingers inside her without warning, and she cried out, her pussy clenching around me. “Fuck, you’re tight,” I muttered, pumping slowly, curling my fingers to hit that sweet spot.

Her hands fisted the couch as I fucked her with my fingers, her cunt dripping. “You gotta taste me,” she begged suddenly, lifting her hips higher.

I didn’t need to be told twice. I yanked her pants down completely, spreading her cheeks apart and burying my face between her legs. The second my tongue laved over her clit, she jerked, moaning my name.

I sucked her swollen little bud hard, flicking it with my tongue while my fingers kept plunging in and out of her. Her taste flooded my mouth—sweet and salty, fucking perfect.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” she chanted, grinding against my face. “Don’t stop, please—”

I sucked harder, driving my fingers deeper, fucking her fast and rough until her thighs started shaking. She came with a broken cry, her pussy pulsing around my fingers, juices spilling over my chin.

I pulled back, licking my lips as she collapsed onto the couch, panting. She turned to look at me, her eyes dark with lust. “Now it’s your turn,” she purred, reaching for my belt.

And that’s how my sister-in-law Michelle ended up on her knees, swallowing my cock like she’d been starving for it. But that’s another story.