Under the pounding water, a slick, soap-slathered body writhes in ecstasy. The masseuse, her hair darkened and plastered to her face, grips his slick, throbbing cock in her soapy hands. She strokes him expertly, her grip perfect, her rhythm maddening. He watches, entranced, as she leans down, her lips parting to take him in. Her tongue swirls around his head, sending jolts of pleasure through him. She takes him deep, her mouth sliding along his length, the soap making her movements smooth and effortless. He grips her hair, his hips moving in time with her, as they both chase the slippery, soapy oblivion.