Makoto sank into the hot water, letting out a long groan as the heat seeped into his tired muscles. The mountain air was crisp and cool against his face, a perfect contrast to the steaming bath. The only sound was the gentle trickling of the bamboo water fountain and the distant rustle of leaves in the wind.
Peace and quiet, just what the doctor ordered. For about five minutes.
Then, the sliding door behind him opened with a soft swish. "Found you, esteemed guest~" a melodic, teasing voice purred.
Makoto turned to see Ayane standing in the doorway. She was wearing nothing, just a mischievous grin and a small folded towel balanced on her head. The moonlight caught the curves of her body, the swell of her breasts, the roundness of her hips, and the adorable bump of her belly.
"You thought you could escape me, didn't you?" she giggled, stepping onto the stone tiles. "Sneaking off while we were arguing about futons? Tsk tsk. Bad Makoto."
She walked toward the water, her hips swaying with deliberate provocation. "But lucky for you," she said, dipping a toe in to test the temperature, "I forgave you. And since Mika whispered her brilliant plan to me… I decided to throw the match and claim my prize early."
Ayane slid into the water next to Makoto, sending ripples across the surface. She moved close, her naked skin pressing against his underwater. "The others are still arguing," she whispered, leaning in so her face was inches from his. Her eyes were dark and dilated. "Mika is distracting them with another round of debate about pillow firmness. Which means…"
She reached underwater, her hand finding his thigh and sliding higher. "…we have about thirty minutes before they realize I'm gone. Just enough time for a quickie? Or at least some heavy petting?"
She nipped gently at his lower lip. "I provide many services for our esteemed guests at this ryokan. Are you interested?"
"Geez, so that was how Mika was able to calm her down earlier?" Makoto thought, realizing the conspiracy. "Fine… if Ayane wants to play it like that…" He coughed, clearing his throat and putting on his best oblivious face. "Excuse me, miss, I don't remember calling for service. What kind of service do you provide anyway?"
Ayane's grin widened. She loved it when he played along. "Oh, a misunderstanding, my apologies, esteemed guest," she pressed herself closer, her breasts brushing against his arm under the water. Her hand slid higher, her fingers tracing the line of his hip. "Allow me to show you the premium services available during your private stay."
"Ahem," she cleared her throat, her expression shifting to that of a professional, albeit very naked, concierge. "Welcome to Ryokan Tokiwa's Exclusive VIP Satisfaction Service. My name is Ayane, and I will be your attendant for the evening."
"I provide a range of services designed to ensure our most valued guests get maximum relaxation." Her other hand came up to rest on Makoto's shoulder, her fingers gently massaging the tense muscle there.
"Service Package A," she whispered, her lips brushing against his ear. "Includes a thorough, professional sponge bath. Every inch of your body will be personally scrubbed by me, using only the finest, most fragrant soaps." Her hand on his hip drifted inwards, her fingertips ghosting over his inner thigh, dangerously close to his growing erection.
"Service Package B," she continued, her voice trembling with barely suppressed excitement. "Is a full-release stress relief massage. I'll use my hands, my mouth, my breasts… whatever it takes to release all that tension you've been carrying. It's my specialty."
She moved to straddle his lap underwater, her legs wrapping around his waist. She was slick, hot, and soft in a way that made his brain short-circuit.
"And then…" she murmured, her lips finding the side of his neck, planting a series of hot, open-mouthed kisses. "There's the Platinum Deep Penetration Service. That one is highly exclusive and very expensive. You'd have to beg for it."
Makoto played along, returning her kiss with a hungry intensity before trying to get out of the water. But Ayane pulled back, her eyes dark and burning with want. She ground her hips against Makoto, a deliberate movement that made his breath hitch. "So," she whispered, her voice a husky plea. "Which package would you like to try, sir?"
Makoto clumsily covered his crotch with a small hand towel, feigning modesty. "Umm, Miss Ayane, I would like the Package A only. I came here with my wives, so…" He paused for a beat, fully embodying the character of a faithful but tempted husband. "I wouldn't want to betray her."
Ayane's playful, confident expression froze. She watched him stand up, watched his awkward gesture of covering himself, and another grin spread across her face. She was clearly delighted by the game he was playing.
"Package A only?" she repeated, her voice dripping with mock-hurt. She stood up as well, water cascading off her body, making her skin glisten in the moonlight. She didn't try to hide anything. Instead, she stood taller, one hand on her hip, pushing her breasts out.
Ayane pouted theatrically. "Such a loyal husband," she purred and took a slow, deliberate step towards him. The water level dropped as she rose, revealing more of her toned legs and the dark patch of hair between them.
"But…" she whispered, closing the distance until she was standing right in front of him, the heat from her body radiating against his. "Your wife isn't here right now, is she? And I am very persuasive, sir."
She reached out and gently traced a finger down Makoto's chest, her touch leaving a warm, tingling line on his skin. "She doesn't have to know. It can be our little secret." She leaned in, her lips brushing against his earlobe. "Are you afraid? Afraid that once I start touching you, you won't be able to say no?"
She took his hand, the one covering his crotch. Her grip was firm. She slowly pulled his hand away. "Don't you want to see how thorough the sponge bath really is?" she whispered, her eyes locking onto his. "Well, let's start Package A. If you still want me to stop after five minutes, I will."
Her other hand slid down her own body, over the slight curve of her belly, down between her legs. She let out a soft sigh, her eyes fluttering shut for a second. "But I should warn you, sir, I get very into my work."
"Ahem. If you do well, I might leave this ryokan a good review," Makoto stammered, averting his eyes, genuinely worried that his erection would burst free if he kept looking at her.
"You can start then," he said, sitting on a small wooden stool next to the shower area, presenting his back to her.
Ayane's eyes lit up with wicked delight. She loved this game. She loved the chase and the challenge of breaking down his fake, flimsy resolve. "A good review?" she chuckled, her voice thick with lust. "Sir, you're going to want to give me a five-star review and name your firstborn child after me by the time I'm done."
She turned and padded over to a small wooden shelf, retrieving a wooden bucket, a small stack of soft washcloths, and a bar of soap. She looked every bit the professional attendant.
Then she knelt behind him, the sound of water sloshing in the bucket. Makoto could hear her lathering the soap, the soft rhythmic sound making his shoulders tense in anticipation. "Please relax, sir," she whispered, her voice right behind him.
A moment later, Makoto felt it. A wet, soapy cloth touched his back. Her touch was surprisingly gentle at first, making slow and broad circles across his shoulder blades. The soap smelled of yuzu and ginger. "See? Just a simple sponge bath," she murmured. "Nothing to be nervous about."
Her other hand came to rest on his opposite shoulder, steadying herself. The washcloth traveled down his spine, a sensuous line of suds and heat. "You have a very nice back, sir. Strong. It must be hard, carrying all that responsibility."
Her body pressed against his back. Her soapy, slick breasts flattened against his skin. She was molding herself to him, her hips nestled against the back of the stool. The soft washcloth was forgotten. Now it was just her breasts, slick with soap, sliding across his back.
"Let's make sure we get everywhere," she whispered, her lips brushing against his ear. Her soapy hands glided around his sides, her fingertips tickling his ribs. She slowly brought them around to his chest, her palms flat against his pecs.
Her breath was hot and ragged in his ear. "This is still part of Package A, right?" she murmured, her voice a husky, teasing whisper. "A thorough chest wash is our standard procedure." Her thumbs slowly circled his nipples, making them pebble under her touch. "I wouldn't want to disappoint your wife by not being completely clean."
"Yeah, please," Makoto let out a soft moan, his cock getting painfully hard from the teasing on his front and the sensation of Ayane's body against his back. The soft moan that escaped his lips was music to her ears. She pressed her body tighter against him, a low, triumphant hum vibrating in her chest.
"Oh?" she whispered, her voice a silken taunt right next to his ear. "Did you enjoy that, sir? I'm glad to know our cleaning services are meeting your high standards."
Her soapy hands glided down from his chest, over his stomach. She took her time, her fingers tracing the lines of his abs. The feeling was exquisite, slippery, warm, and deeply intimate.
"We must be very thorough down here," she murmured, her hands stopping just above the waistband of his towel. "This is an area that holds a lot of tension."
Her breath hitched as she felt the hard, thick length of his cock straining against the towel beneath her hand. "Oh my," she whispered, her voice dripping with mock innocence.
"Sir, it seems we've found a very… tense… spot." Her pinky finger "accidentally" brushed along the entire length of his shaft through the towel. Makoto jolted, and a strangled gasp escaped him.
"My apologies, sir," she purred, not sounding sorry at all. "Let me take care of that for you. It's my job to ensure every part of you is completely relaxed."
Without another word, her deft fingers undid the knot of his towel. It fell away, exposing his hard, curved cock to the cool night air and her hungry gaze. "Well now," she whispered, her hand slowly wrapping around the base of his shaft. "This requires special attention."
She gave a slow, experimental pump, her soapy hand gliding effortlessly up and down. "Package A only, of course, a very thorough cleaning."
She pumped him again, this time from base to tip, her thumb swirling over the head. She was purring in his ear, making a low satisfied sound. "I think you'll find my specialized deep-cleaning technique is well worth the good review."