Justine rubs my back lightly and washes me–being extra careful of scrubbing too hard over sore spots. My shoulder is tender, but I ignore the pain for this loving moment. I sit patiently as the soapy cloth goes down my arms to my legs and back up my chest. Circling my breast, Justine avoids lingering, but the movements send my n*****s peeking at her attention to detail. She then expertly washes my face of all the makeup.
“Would you like me to wash your hair?” she whispers, causing more bumps to follow her tempting words.
“Yes, please. I would love that,” I hum as my heart skips a beat.
Justine takes shampoo, working it into a lather, washing my scalp with her fingertips. This feeling is intense, and she has me so relaxed that I’m melting. I could fall asleep right here as she massag
