Erotic Stories: My First Happy Ending with Vivian
- 2 days ago
- 6 min read
This Erotic story is written with XXX Story AI Writer
The dim glow of the red paper lanterns cast long, swaying shadows across the small, private massage room, the air thick with the scent of jasmine oil and something sweeter—something warmer.
My pulse hammered in my throat as I lay face-down on the padded table, the crisp white sheet doing little to hide how hard I already was. I’d heard the rumors, the whispered stories from guys at the gym about Vivian, the petite Thai masseuse with hands like magic and a smile that promised so much more than just a rubdown.
And now, here I was, my first time, my skin electric with anticipation. The door creaked open, and my breath hitched.
Vivian slipped inside, barefoot, her movements fluid as water. The pastel silk lingerie she wore—a barely-there baby blue bra and matching thong—clung to her curves like a second skin, the fabric so thin I could see the dusky outlines of her nipples, already pebbled from the humid air. Her long, dark hair was piled loosely on top of her head, a few strands escaping to frame her high cheekbones, her lips glossed just enough to catch the light when she smiled. And fuck, was she smiling.
“First time, yes?” Her voice was a purr, her accent wrapping around the words like honey. She didn’t wait for an answer, her small hands pressing into the base of my spine, fingers kneading deep. I groaned, my cock twitching against the table, trapped beneath me.
“Mmm, you tense,” she murmured, her thumbs working up either side of my spine, her touch firm but teasing. “But not all of you, huh?” Her laughter was soft, knowing, as her palm grazed over my ass, just barely brushing the swell of my cheeks through the sheet. My muscles locked, my breath coming faster.
Then—oh, fuck—her fingers dipped beneath the fabric, tracing the cleft of my ass with maddening slowness. “You like that?” she whispered, her breath hot against my ear as she leaned over me, her breasts pressing into my back. The silk was cool against my skin, but her body was fire. “Or you want more?”
Before I could answer, she hooked her fingers into the waistband of my boxers and tugged, slow, deliberate, until the fabric slid down my thighs, freeing my aching cock. The air hit my damp tip, and I bit back a moan.
Vivian tsked, her nails scraping lightly down my inner thighs with oil. “No hide,” she chided, her fingers wrapping around my shaft, her grip just tight enough to make my hips jerk. “Let Vivian take care of you.”
Her other hand slicked with oil, warm and slippery, and then—oh god—she was stroking me, her fingers twisting just right over my crown, her thumb swirling through the precome beading there. My vision blurred, my fingers clawing at the table.
“So big for first time,” she cooed, her lips brushing the shell of my ear. “You been thinking about this, huh? About Vivian’s hands on you?” Her grip tightened, her pace slow, torturous, her other hand sliding up to roll my balls, her nails teasing the sensitive skin behind them.
I could only whimper, my hips rocking into her touch, my mind short-circuiting as she worked me. Then her free hand slid up my back, her fingers tangling in my hair, yanking just enough to tilt my head back. Her lips hovered over mine, her breath sweet with lychee.
“You want my mouth too?” she murmured, her tongue flicking out to trace my lower lip teasing me for my next visit.
Vivian’s manicured nails grazd my back before her palms pressed into my skin, warm from the oil she’d rubbed between them.
I could hear the slickness of it as she spread her hands over my shoulders, her thumbs digging into the knots with just enough pressure to make me groan into the face cradle. But this wasn’t about relief—not really.
Every stroke was a tease, her fingers tracing the divots of my spine like she was memorizing the path to something far more sensitive.
“Mmm, you’re so tense here,” she murmured, her breath hot against the shell of my ear as she leaned in, her silk-clad breasts brushing my arm. The pastel pink fabric was so thin I could see the dark circles of her nipples through it, already tight with arousal.
“But not where it matters, huh?” Her hand slid lower, past the dip of my waist, her fingertips skimming the waistband of my boxers before dipping beneath. I jerked when she cupped me through the fabric, her palm searing against my already throbbing cock. “Ohhh, someone’s very ready for me.”
She didn’t wait for an answer. With a flick of her wrist, she hooked her fingers into the elastic and tugged my boxers down just enough to free me, the cool air hitting my shaft before her hand wrapped around it, her grip firm but not tight.
Not yet. Her thumb swirled over the precome beading at my tip, spreading it in slow, maddening circles. “Look at you,” she cooed, her voice thick with that Thai lilt, the words dripping like honey. “All hard for me already. You’ve been thinking about this, haven’t you? About my hands on you… about how I’d make you cum?”
I tried to answer, but all that came out was a broken gasp as she adjusted her grip, her fingers curling just behind my crown, her thumb pressing into the frenulum. She knew—fuck, she knew exactly how to touch me. Her other hand slid under my hips, lifting me slightly, tilting my cock upward as she began to stroke, her pace lazy but precise.
Up to the head, then down to the base, her palm twisting slightly on the upstroke, her thumb dragging over the vein pulsing along the underside. Every movement was deliberate, like she was mapping me, learning what made my breath hitch, what made my thighs tremble.
“That’s it,” she purred, her free hand slipping between my legs to cup my balls, rolling them gently in her palm. “Just feel it. No thinking, okay? Only this.” Her strokes grew firmer, her grip tightening just enough to make my hips buck into her touch. She chuckled, low and dirty. “Oh, you like that? You like when I squeeze you a little?”
Her fingers tightened fractionally, her thumb pressing harder into the sensitive spot beneath my crown, and I whimpered, my fingers clawing at the table. “Good boy. Now tell me—” her voice dropped to a whisper, her lips brushing my ear, “—do you want me to make you cum fast? Or do you want me to edge you until you’re begging?”
I didn’t have a choice. The words tore out of me. “Fast—fuck, please—”
Vivian’s laugh was dark, triumphant. “Since you asked so nicely…” Her hand flew over my cock, her grip perfect—tight enough to feel every ridge of her fingers, slick enough from the oil and precome to glide without friction.
She used both hands now, one fisted around my base, the other working the head with quick, twisting motions, her thumb flicking over my slit every few strokes. “Look at how wet you are for me,” she groaned, her breath hot against my neck. “All this precome, just leaking for me. You’re close, aren’t you? I can feel it—” her hand sped up, her fingers blurring, “—your cock’s getting harder, your balls are tight…”
Her free hand slid up my chest, her nails scraping over my nipple before pinching it, just shy of pain. The sharp sensation shot straight to my groin, my cock jerking in her grip. “That’s it, almost there—” her voice was a command now, her strokes relentless. “Cum for me. Now. I want to see it. I want to watch you paint the table with that thick cum, understand? Give it to me.”
The order shattered what little control I had left. My orgasm crashed over me, my cock pulsing violently in her hand as the first rope of cum shot out, splattering against the table. Vivian didn’t slow down—she milked me, her strokes rough and demanding, her thumb pressing into my slit as she wrung every last drop from me. “Good—fuck, yes—” she hissed, her voice raw with arousal. “Just like that, all of it… don’t stop…”
I could feel her trembling, her own breath ragged as she watched my cock twitch in her grip, the last of my release dripping onto her fingers.
She didn’t let go immediately. Instead, she slowed her strokes, her touch almost reverent now, like she was savoring the aftermath. “Mmm, so much,” she murmured, her thumb swiping through the mess on the table before bringing it to her lips, her tongue darting out to taste. “And you’re still hard. Greedy boy…”
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