The Regular

He came in just like he always did—calm, casual, and comfortable in his own skin. He was young, fit, and carried himself with that effortless confidence that only comes from knowing you’ve got a body worth showing off. His T-shirt clung to his chest and arms in all the right places, and when he stripped it off, his lean, defined torso was a work of art.

But it wasn’t just his abs or his broad shoulders that made him unforgettable. It was his ass. That perfect, round bubble butt that seemed to defy gravity and demanded attention every time he turned around.

He’d been coming to me for a while, booking his usual hour-long sessions. Each time, I’d work my hands across his athletic frame, feeling the tension melt away under my touch. He wasn’t shy—never had been—but he usually kept things on the tamer side. Sure, he’d brush against me now and then or let out a soft moan when my hands dug into just the right spot, but he never crossed the line.

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