She knew it. Some part of her knew it. He had saved her. He had fed her. He had covered her with his coat. And now he was asking for a massage. As if it were payment. As if it were natural. As if she owed him this.

And she did not care.

She looked at his cock.

It was limp. Visible through his trousers. The fabric was thin. Wet from the rain. It clung to him. She could see the shape. The length. Even soft, it was large. Heavy. It hung against his thigh. The head was visible—a thick, rounded outline beneath the cloth.

She took the vial.

Her fingers brushed his. They were cool. She pulled the vial to her chest. She held it. She looked at him. Then she looked at the oil. Then she looked at his body.

"Lie down," she whispered.

He smiled.

He lay back on the stone. He stretched out. His arms above his head. His legs extended. His shirt was open. His chest was bare. His stomach was flat. The muscles of his abdomen were visible—defined, hard, pale. The rain misted him. His hair was wet. His skin glistened.

She moved to him.

On her knees. Naked. His coat had fallen away. Her breasts hung as she crawled—heavy, firm, the nipples dark and stiff. Her pussy was visible. Hairy. Wet. Still leaking. She ignored it. She focused on him.

She opened the vial.

She poured oil into her palm. It was warm. Thick. It coated her hand. She rubbed her palms together. She warmed it.

She touched his thigh.

Her hands found his leg. The muscle was hard. Lean. She rubbed. Her fingers sank into the flesh. She kneaded. She worked the oil into his skin. Her hands moved upward. Over his knee. Over his thigh. Over the inner thigh. She could feel the heat of him. The pulse of his blood.

He groaned.

A small sound. Deep. It rumbled in his chest.

Her hands moved higher.

Over his hip. Over his stomach. She found his abdomen. The muscles tensed under her touch. She rubbed oil over them. Her fingers traced the lines. The ridges. The valleys between the muscles. She coated him. His skin shone. Golden. Wet.

She moved lower.

Her hands found his groin. The fabric of his trousers was in the way. She hesitated. Then she pulled. She unlaced them. She pushed them down. His cock was freed.

It was limp.

Thick. Heavy. Long even in its softened state. It lay against his thigh. The head was dark. The shaft was veined. The skin was smooth. She poured more oil into her palm. She took his cock in her hand.

She massaged.

Her fingers wrapped around the shaft. She stroked. Slow. Up and down. The oil made her grip slick. Smooth. Her palm slid over the skin. She worked the head. Her thumb circled the slit. She rubbed the underside. The ridge. The sensitive spot where the shaft met the head.

His cock trembled.

It twitched. In her hand. She felt the blood rush into it. The tissue filling. The shaft thickening. Lengthening. Rising. It grew in her grip. Inch by inch. From limp to half-hard. From half-hard to rigid. From rigid to enormous.

Twelve inches.

Standing. Pointing at his stomach. The head was swollen. Purple. Leaking. The veins were thick. The shaft was dark. The oil coated it. Made it shine. Golden. Wet.

She massaged his balls.

Her other hand went to his sack. Heavy. Full. She cupped them. She rolled them in her palm. The oil made them slick. She squeezed gently. She felt the weight. The heat. The pulse of the vessels. She rubbed the oil into the skin. Into the crease between his thigh and his groin.

He groaned again.

Louder. His hips shifted. His cock twitched in her hand. Pre-cum leaked from the slit. Clear. Thin. It mixed with the oil. Made it thicker.

"There are different ways to massage," he said. His voice was rough. Thick. The calm was cracking. "Did you know?"

She trembled.

"How?" she whispered. Her voice was small. Needy. She did not know what she was asking. She did not know what she was agreeing to.

He gave her the vial.

He took it from her hand. He poured oil into her palm. More than before. A large pool. It dripped between her fingers. It ran down her wrist.

"Rub it," he said. "Inside your pussy. The best place for me to rub... is inside you. Warm. Tight. Wet. The best massage a man can get."

She trembled.

She looked at the oil in her hand. She looked at his cock—rigid, enormous, pointing at her. She looked at her own body. Her pussy. Her hairy mound. Her swollen lips.

She spread her legs.

She sat back on her heels. She poured the oil onto her fingers. She reached down. She found her entrance. She pushed. Her fingers entered. Two of them. Coated in oil. She rubbed the oil into her walls. Into her canal. She spread it. She coated herself. The oil was warm. It made her slicker. Wetter. It mixed with her own juices. With the cum still inside her.

She stood.

She positioned herself over him. Her legs straddled his hips. Her pussy was above his cock. She reached down. She grabbed his shaft. She aimed it. The head pressed against her entrance. Oiled. Swollen. Ready.

She sat.

The head entered. Her lips parted. The oil made it smooth. Easy. She slid down. Inch by inch. The oil and the cum and her own slick made her passage wet. Slippery. She descended. Five inches. Seven. Nine. Eleven. Until she was fully seated. Until his cock was buried to the root. Until her ass was pressed against his thighs. Until her womb was filled again.

"Ah—!" she gasped. Her head fell back. Her mouth opened. "Ngh—! It is— it is so deep—!"

He chuckled.

The sound was dark. Warm. His hands found her hips. He held her. He squeezed. His fingers dug into the muscle.

"You are the best masseuse," he said.

He hugged her.

His arms went around her waist. He pulled her down. Her chest pressed against his. Her breasts—oiled, wet, firm—mushed against his stomach. Her nipples dragged against his skin. He sucked her boob. His mouth found her left nipple. He sealed his lips around it. He pulled. He sucked. His tongue flicked the stiff peak.

SLURP SLURP—

"Ah—! Hngh—!" she moaned. "Please—! That is— ah—!"

He laid her on the ground.

He rolled her. Onto her back. He was on top. His cock never left her. It stayed buried. He began to move. He pulled out. Six inches. Then slammed back in. All twelve. The oil made the friction smooth. Wet. The sound was obscene.

PAH PAH PAH—

"Ah—! Hngh—! Please—! It is— ah—! So big—!"

Oil fell from her pussy. It ran down her crack. It pooled in her ass. The golden liquid mixed with the white cum. It dripped onto the stone. It made her skin shine. Her belly shone. Her breasts shone. Her thighs shone. She was covered in oil. Covered in him.

He fucked her.

Hard. Deep. The oil squelched. It foamed. It bubbled at her entrance. His cock was a piston. A machine. Driving in and out. The head battered her cervix. It entered her womb. Her belly bulged. The oil on her skin caught the light. She was golden. Glistening. A oiled, fucked, ruined thing.

"Ah—! It hurts—!" she cried. "Please—! It is— ah—! Too much—!"