04-09-2026, 09:07 PM
(This post was last modified: 04-09-2026, 09:14 PM by SilverArrow. Edited 3 times in total. Edited 3 times in total.)
Chapter 17: The massage
Ranga returned within five minutes, holding a heavy amber glass bottle with no commercial label, filled with a thick, golden-green liquid.
"What is that?" Monica asked, her eyes falling on the glass container as he stepped into the hallway. "It looks like raw engine oil."
"Pure eucalyptus extract from down south,"
Ranga said, unhooking his heavy watch and setting it on the side table. "It’s thick, dark, and sticky as hell. You put this on, and the muscle pain dies in ten minutes."
Monica frowned slightly, inspecting the viscous liquid inside the bottle. "Where are we supposed to do this? Definitely not on the bed or the sofa. If a single drop gets on the leather couch, Rakesh will spend three days crying about this”
Ranga gave a short nod. "Bathroom is better. Easy to rinse off."
"And where am I sitting in the bathroom? On the cold floor tiles?"
"Let's go and have a look," Ranga rumbled, grabbing the bottle by its neck and stepping down the hallway toward her bathroom.
In the center sat a deep, oval ceramic bathtub, completely dry and clean.
Ranga pointed one thick finger at the dry tub. "In there. It’s smooth, dry, and we can flush the oil down the drain when we're done."
Monica let out a breathy, incredulous laugh. "You're joking, right? You expect both of us to fit inside the bathtub? It’s a tub, Ranga Anna, not a Jacuzzi for two."
Ranga didn't bother arguing. He simply swung one heavy leg over the porcelain edge, stepping right into the tub and sitting down against the curved backrest, his broad, bare chest taking up half the space. He patted the smooth porcelain in front of his knees. "Get in, Monica. Stop wasting time."
Monica looked at his shirtless frame, his dark shoulders, and the amber bottle in his hand. Shaking her head with a dry, helpless chuckle, she stepped over the high porcelain ledge and slid inside, settling down right between his spread knees.
Her back sat just inches from his chest, the heat radiating off his skin warming her shoulders. Ranga popped the cork from the bottle, and the sharp, intoxicating fumes of eucalyptus instantly filled the enclosed bathroom.
"Your top is going to get completely ruined with this stuff," Ranga said, his deep voice vibrating right behind her spine. "It stains fabric permanently."
Monica twisted halfway, making a face. “Ranga Anna…”
![[Image: 766183367_85031.png]](https://t3.pixhost.to/thumbs/5460/766183367_85031.png)
He gave a low, unapologetic laugh. “You have a bra underneath. Nothing to worry about. Take it off or the oil will soak straight through”
She held his gaze for a beat, then exhaled and reached for the hem of her grey sports tee. She peeled it up and over her head in one smooth motion. The fabric left her skin with a soft sound. Ranga took it from her hand and tossed it into the far corner of the bathroom without looking.
The bra she wore underneath was thin black cotton one, the fashionable minimalist Bra which Monica loved wearing. It sat obscenely low on her tits. The underband cut across the fullest part of her massive breasts, pushing the soft upper flesh up and out so that more than half of each heavy tits sat completely exposed, the dark edges of her areolae just visible where the cups failed to cover. The straps were narrow, delicate, already digging faintly into her shoulders from the earlier sweat.
Ranga’s eyes dropped once at Monica’s hot half naked tits, openly, then he poured more oil into both palms and rubbed them together until they shone.
“Ranga Anna..Please be careful with the straps,” Monica said quietly, almost a warning. “They’re thin. You’ll snap them if you pull.”
Ranga only grunted in answer. He placed both hands on the back of her neck.
The first contact made her spine straighten.
The oil was so thick it dragged. His thumbs pressed into the tight muscle at the base of her neck and began to work outward in slow, heavy circles. Every stroke left a shining trail. The eucalyptus scent bloomed hotter between them, sharp enough to sting the inside of the nose
“Relax your shoulders,” he murmured near her ear. “Sit comfortable” Ranga said
“I’m trying,” she breathed. “Your hands are… heavier than the dumbbells.”
He didn’t answer. He simply poured another slow stream of oil directly onto the slope of her right shoulder. It sat there in a golden pool before his palm spread it down across the shoulders, fingers sliding under the thin bra strap and lifting it just enough for the oil to slip beneath. The fabric darkened instantly. When he let the strap settle again it clung wetly to her skin, almost transparent.
Monica’s head tipped forward a fraction. “It’s so sticky… God, it’s actually sticking to your fingers.”
That’s why it works,” Ranga said. Both hands now moved in long, deliberate strokes from the base of her neck out to the points of her shoulders, then down the upper arms and back again. Each pass made a soft, wet sound. The oil turned her skin into something glossy. In the mirror above the sink she could see the shine spreading, the way his dark hands looked against her lighter skin, the way her expensive minimalist bra straps now glistened like wet ink.
He shifted closer. His bare chest pressed fully against her back. The oil transferred, making their skin stick and unstick with every small breath. His thumbs dug deeper into the knots along her shoulder blades. Monica let out a low, involuntary sound.
“Ahh…” the unmistakable pleasure made Monica ask for more
“There,” Ranga said. “That’s the one that was locking up.”
“Gawd ..Anna .. this oil is so refreshing..,” she whispered, almost against her will.
Ranga’s hands slid forward over the fronts of her shoulders. His fingers brushed the upper curves of her breasts where the bra left them naked. He didn’t pull away. Instead he gathered more oil and began to work it into that soft, exposed flesh in slow circles, thumbs stroking just above the cups, pushing the fabric a fraction lower with every pass.
Monica’s breath caught. “Ranga… the straps…”
“I’m being careful.” His mouth was close enough that she felt the words against the shell of her ear. “But the oil is making everything slide. Look.”
She did. In the mirror she watched his hands, shiny and deliberate, moving over the heavy upper swells of her breasts. The thin black fabric of her Bra had soaked through completely in places. The outline of her nipples pressed visibly against the damp cotton. A thin rivulet of oil escaped his fingers and ran down into the deep valley between her breasts, disappearing under the underband.
Ranga’s palms cupped the outer curves more openly now, thumbs sweeping inward across the soft, oiled skin. The sticky resistance made every movement feel heavier, more intentional.
“Your skin is taking all of it ..That’s very good” he murmured. “No more dry patches. Look at the shine.”
Monica’s head rested back against his shoulder. Her eyes stayed half-open, watching them in the mirror—the contrast of his rough, veined hands on her, the way the oil made everything look wetter
“This is… very warm as well.. the oil is just so heavy… Ahhhhh..” she said, voice quieter.
Ranga’s answer was a low hum against her neck as His hands never stopped moving. Fingers slipped under the thin straps again, easing them outward so the cups shifted lower still. More of her breasts spilled free, heavy and gleaming. He poured a final slow stream of oil directly into the valley between them and began to work it over the newly exposed skin with both palms, careful not to snap the delicate straps, yet deliberate enough that every stroke pushed the fabric further from what it was meant to cover.
![[Image: 766183931_85065.png]](https://t3.pixhost.to/thumbs/5460/766183931_85065.png)
Monica’s breathing had gone shallow. The bathtub felt smaller. The eucalyptus scent was everywhere now—sharp, cooling, and somehow filthy the way it mixed with the heat of their bodies.
“Ranga Anna…” she whispered.
He didn’t stop. His hands kept moving in slow, heavy circles, spreading the thick oil until her chest and shoulders shone like polished wood under rain, until the thin black bra was nothing more than wet, useless lines cutting across gleaming skin.
“Let the oil gets deep… that’s when the real pain relief with happen Monica!” Ranga said …
Monica’s head tipped forward a little more.
“It’s actually working… the pain feels controlled now Ranga Anna .. Shoulders aren’t locking the same way.”
Ranga’s hands kept moving, slow and heavy. “It’ll absorb deeper. Give it time.”
He poured another thin stream of the thick oil across the tops of her shoulders. His fingers found the thin black straps, slid underneath them, and began easing them outward. The wet fabric stretched and then slipped down her arms in one smooth motion.
Monica’s body stiffened.
“Ranga Anna—what are you doing? My straps—”
“It’s better,” Ranga said calmly, voice close to her ear. “Your Bra is absolutely already soaked. It’s just Useless now Monica”
The cups had nowhere to go. They settled loosely against the lower curves of her breasts, resting right on her nipples while her large Chocolate brown areolas sat fully exposed above the wet edge of the Bra. Her areolas were the sexiest part of her Breasts
Now, she was effectively topless, the heavy soft weight of her tits gleaming under the bathroom light, oil running in thin shiny lines between them.
Ranga’s palms returned to that newly bare skin without pause, spreading more oil in wide, deliberate circles. The sticky drag of his hands made every stroke feel heavier. Monica’s breath shortened. The muscle pain had faded into the background. What replaced it was a low, spreading heat that had nothing to do with eucalyptus. Monica was beginning to moan by the impact of pleasure.. She knew her moans were getting heavy inside the four walls of the bathroom. Her moans echoed and that made it sound filthy dirty and erotic inside the bathroom. Ranga heard it nonchalantly absolutely not giving any respite to Monica from the undeniable pleasure of the oil massage.
“I learned this inside,” Ranga murmured, thumbs sweeping under the full underside of each breast. “the Jail. Old guy from Madurai taught a few of us. Said nothing empties the head faster than proper oil massage. He wasn’t wrong. Right Monica ?” Ranga was now torturing Monica with the carnal pleasure he was giving to her.
Monica’s eyes were half-closed in the mirror. A soft sound escaped her throat when his thumbs brushed closer to her nipples. “ Ahhhh…ahhhh”
The pleasure peaked when Ranga’s fingers played with her areolas.. Monica had such sensitive areolas only she knew ..how much she loved such treatment of her areolas .
“Ranga Anna… at least… put…put the bra back… you’re making me—”
The sentence broke into another low moan as he cupped her more firmly, lifting the weight of her tits in both hands, testing how much they overflowed his palms. She tried again, voice uneven.
“Put it… back… you’re almost… ah—”
Ranga’s mouth stayed near her ear. “How’s the pain now?”
She forced the moan down long enough to answer. “It’s gone. Just… put the bra in place..please”
He didn’t. Instead he hooked his fingers under the loose, oil-soaked cups and slowly peeled the entire bra forward and off her body. The wet fabric clung for a second, then came free.
Monica’s protest came louder this time. “Ranga— I’m not getting nude for a massage—”
“No one’s walking in,” he said, calm as ever.
“ Ranga No..please what the fuck!!!!! “
Monica watched as he tossed the soaked bra toward the far corner of the bathroom. It landed with a soft, heavy slap against the tiles. “This is far better for the oil. Nothing blocking it now Monica.”
Her tits sat fully free, large, heavy, and shining with the rough sticky oil. The oil made them look almost polished. Ranga’s hands returned immediately, open and hungry, spreading more of the thick liquid over every inch, lifting them, squeezing, watching them move.
“Woww.. you have such beautiful breasts …Best I’ve seen,” he said, voice lower. “Even for my hands they’re huge.”
“Ranga.. What you think you are doing..This is just fucking inappropriate!” Monica breathed hard while speaking …
Ranga chuckled “ Relax! You can thank me later when the pain vanishes . Right now enjoy the art I learnt in the prison “
“You are impossible”
Monica twisted just enough to half-heartedly shove at his shoulder with one oily hand.
“I asked for a gym session, not to sit naked in a bathtub with you, you asshole.”
Ranga laughed, thumbs circling her nipples now, slow and deliberate, coating them until they stood tight and glossy under his touch. Her head dropped back against his shoulder enjoying his touch to the core . The protest stayed in her voice, but her body had already stopped fighting the way his hands claimed every oiled curve.
The cramped porcelain tub creaked subtly as Ranga shifted his heavy frame. Without breaking eye contact, he swung his leg over, turning around to face Monica directly face to face. His broad, dark chest filled her entire field of vision, the sharp, medicinal scent of the warm eucalyptus oil radiating off his skin in waves.
Ranga... wait, what are you doing?" Monica gasped, her breath catching as his dark knees pinned her legs against the smooth white porcelain..
"Can't reach the tension in the chest from behind, Monica" Ranga rumbled smoothly, his voice dropping into a thick, raspy murmur.
Before she could process a reply, he tipped another heavy pool of dark oil onto his palms, rubbed them together with a friction-filled slide, and slammed both broad, hands flat over her exposed breasts.
"Ranga! Ah— stop!" Monica choked out, her hands flying up to grip his thick wrists. "This isn't... this isn't just a shoulder massage anymore!"
Ranga didn't back off even an inch. His dark eyes locked onto hers, a wicked, unyielding smirk tugging at his lips as his hands began to knead her heavy breasts, squeezing and molding her breasts with brutal, unhurried dominance.
"You said your body was sore, didn't you?" Ranga grunted softly “You want the pain gone or not?"
"Ranga, please— mmff..." The protest died in her throat, dissolving into a low, shuddering moan that echoed softly off the bathroom walls.
Her fingers, which had initially gripped his wrists to push him away, suddenly lost their strength, sliding down to clutch the smooth rim of the bathtub for support.
She bit her lower lip hard, trying to hold back the sounds, but Ranga’s hands were merciless.
"Look at yourself in the mirror, Monica," Ranga commanded softly, his voice a low vibration over the sound of her rapid breathing...
Monica opened her heavy, half-closed eyes, looking sideways at the vanity mirror across the room. Her cheeks were burning red, her hair tumbling out of its topknot, her flushed, half-naked body pinned helplessly beneath Ranga’s shirtless, dominant frame. Her chest was completely covered in dark green, glistening oil, held and crushed inside his dark, calloused hands.
"You're... you're unbelievable, Ranga Anna," Monica whispered, her breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps as she arched her back into his touch, completely surrendering to the dirty, thrilling heat filling the small room.
From that moment, Ranga’s hands never left her.
“Look at your big tits, Monica. Shining from my oil. You want to wash this off now?”
Monica’s head was still tipped back against the porcelain, chest rising fast. Her voice came out uneven, thick with the same heat that had already soaked through her.
“I… I don’t know. This isn’t right. You should leave now, Ranga Anna.”
He smiled, slow and knowing, thumbs still brushing over her tight, glossy nipples.
“You didn’t answer. Shall we rinse the oil off?”
She let out a short, frustrated breath
“I don’t know, okay? I didn’t expect the massage would turn into… this.”
Ranga’s eyes stayed on her face. “I can help you wash it off if you need.”
Monica’s fingers flexed against the edge of the tub.
“What now?”
“Look.” That was all he said before he dropped his head and took her right nipple into his mouth.
Monica’s whole body jerked.
“Ranga—fuck—what are you—”
The protest was weak, almost automatic, and it died the second his tongue dragged hard over the oiled peak. He sucked strongly, wet and greedy, cheeks hollowing, while one hand kept mauling the other breast without mercy. The filthy, rhythmic sound of his mouth filled the small bathroom.
“Ahhh—shit—Ranga Anna—stop—mmhh—”
She kept trying to form sentences, but every one broke apart into louder, longer moans. Her hands came up to his head—not pushing, only holding—as he switched to the left nipple and sucked even harder, teeth grazing, tongue swirling through the thick eucalyptus. Oil and saliva mixed and ran down the underside of her breast. He followed the trail with his mouth, biting softly at the soft lower curve before returning to the nipple again.
Monica’s moans climbed. They bounced off the bathroom wall, raw and uncontrolled, the kind of sound that could be easily heard by a neighbour.
“God—your mouth—Ranga—this is so fucking—ahhh—”
He didn’t answer with words. He just kept sucking, long filthy pulls that made her back arch and her thighs tighten around him. One of her hands slid from his head to his shoulder, nails digging in. The other stayed locked on the tub rim like it was the only solid thing left...
The protests were completely gone and only the broken, hungry sounds of two people who had stopped pretending remained.
Ranga returned within five minutes, holding a heavy amber glass bottle with no commercial label, filled with a thick, golden-green liquid.
"What is that?" Monica asked, her eyes falling on the glass container as he stepped into the hallway. "It looks like raw engine oil."
"Pure eucalyptus extract from down south,"
Ranga said, unhooking his heavy watch and setting it on the side table. "It’s thick, dark, and sticky as hell. You put this on, and the muscle pain dies in ten minutes."
Monica frowned slightly, inspecting the viscous liquid inside the bottle. "Where are we supposed to do this? Definitely not on the bed or the sofa. If a single drop gets on the leather couch, Rakesh will spend three days crying about this”
Ranga gave a short nod. "Bathroom is better. Easy to rinse off."
"And where am I sitting in the bathroom? On the cold floor tiles?"
"Let's go and have a look," Ranga rumbled, grabbing the bottle by its neck and stepping down the hallway toward her bathroom.
In the center sat a deep, oval ceramic bathtub, completely dry and clean.
Ranga pointed one thick finger at the dry tub. "In there. It’s smooth, dry, and we can flush the oil down the drain when we're done."
Monica let out a breathy, incredulous laugh. "You're joking, right? You expect both of us to fit inside the bathtub? It’s a tub, Ranga Anna, not a Jacuzzi for two."
Ranga didn't bother arguing. He simply swung one heavy leg over the porcelain edge, stepping right into the tub and sitting down against the curved backrest, his broad, bare chest taking up half the space. He patted the smooth porcelain in front of his knees. "Get in, Monica. Stop wasting time."
Monica looked at his shirtless frame, his dark shoulders, and the amber bottle in his hand. Shaking her head with a dry, helpless chuckle, she stepped over the high porcelain ledge and slid inside, settling down right between his spread knees.
Her back sat just inches from his chest, the heat radiating off his skin warming her shoulders. Ranga popped the cork from the bottle, and the sharp, intoxicating fumes of eucalyptus instantly filled the enclosed bathroom.
"Your top is going to get completely ruined with this stuff," Ranga said, his deep voice vibrating right behind her spine. "It stains fabric permanently."
Monica twisted halfway, making a face. “Ranga Anna…”
![[Image: 766183367_85031.png]](https://pixhost.to/show/5460/766183367_85031.png)
He gave a low, unapologetic laugh. “You have a bra underneath. Nothing to worry about. Take it off or the oil will soak straight through”
She held his gaze for a beat, then exhaled and reached for the hem of her grey sports tee. She peeled it up and over her head in one smooth motion. The fabric left her skin with a soft sound. Ranga took it from her hand and tossed it into the far corner of the bathroom without looking.
The bra she wore underneath was thin black cotton one, the fashionable minimalist Bra which Monica loved wearing. It sat obscenely low on her tits. The underband cut across the fullest part of her massive breasts, pushing the soft upper flesh up and out so that more than half of each heavy tits sat completely exposed, the dark edges of her areolae just visible where the cups failed to cover. The straps were narrow, delicate, already digging faintly into her shoulders from the earlier sweat.
Ranga’s eyes dropped once at Monica’s hot half naked tits, openly, then he poured more oil into both palms and rubbed them together until they shone.
“Ranga Anna..Please be careful with the straps,” Monica said quietly, almost a warning. “They’re thin. You’ll snap them if you pull.”
Ranga only grunted in answer. He placed both hands on the back of her neck.
The first contact made her spine straighten.
The oil was so thick it dragged. His thumbs pressed into the tight muscle at the base of her neck and began to work outward in slow, heavy circles. Every stroke left a shining trail. The eucalyptus scent bloomed hotter between them, sharp enough to sting the inside of the nose
“Relax your shoulders,” he murmured near her ear. “Sit comfortable” Ranga said
“I’m trying,” she breathed. “Your hands are… heavier than the dumbbells.”
He didn’t answer. He simply poured another slow stream of oil directly onto the slope of her right shoulder. It sat there in a golden pool before his palm spread it down across the shoulders, fingers sliding under the thin bra strap and lifting it just enough for the oil to slip beneath. The fabric darkened instantly. When he let the strap settle again it clung wetly to her skin, almost transparent.
Monica’s head tipped forward a fraction. “It’s so sticky… God, it’s actually sticking to your fingers.”
That’s why it works,” Ranga said. Both hands now moved in long, deliberate strokes from the base of her neck out to the points of her shoulders, then down the upper arms and back again. Each pass made a soft, wet sound. The oil turned her skin into something glossy. In the mirror above the sink she could see the shine spreading, the way his dark hands looked against her lighter skin, the way her expensive minimalist bra straps now glistened like wet ink.
He shifted closer. His bare chest pressed fully against her back. The oil transferred, making their skin stick and unstick with every small breath. His thumbs dug deeper into the knots along her shoulder blades. Monica let out a low, involuntary sound.
“Ahh…” the unmistakable pleasure made Monica ask for more
“There,” Ranga said. “That’s the one that was locking up.”
“Gawd ..Anna .. this oil is so refreshing..,” she whispered, almost against her will.
Ranga’s hands slid forward over the fronts of her shoulders. His fingers brushed the upper curves of her breasts where the bra left them naked. He didn’t pull away. Instead he gathered more oil and began to work it into that soft, exposed flesh in slow circles, thumbs stroking just above the cups, pushing the fabric a fraction lower with every pass.
Monica’s breath caught. “Ranga… the straps…”
“I’m being careful.” His mouth was close enough that she felt the words against the shell of her ear. “But the oil is making everything slide. Look.”
She did. In the mirror she watched his hands, shiny and deliberate, moving over the heavy upper swells of her breasts. The thin black fabric of her Bra had soaked through completely in places. The outline of her nipples pressed visibly against the damp cotton. A thin rivulet of oil escaped his fingers and ran down into the deep valley between her breasts, disappearing under the underband.
Ranga’s palms cupped the outer curves more openly now, thumbs sweeping inward across the soft, oiled skin. The sticky resistance made every movement feel heavier, more intentional.
“Your skin is taking all of it ..That’s very good” he murmured. “No more dry patches. Look at the shine.”
Monica’s head rested back against his shoulder. Her eyes stayed half-open, watching them in the mirror—the contrast of his rough, veined hands on her, the way the oil made everything look wetter
“This is… very warm as well.. the oil is just so heavy… Ahhhhh..” she said, voice quieter.
Ranga’s answer was a low hum against her neck as His hands never stopped moving. Fingers slipped under the thin straps again, easing them outward so the cups shifted lower still. More of her breasts spilled free, heavy and gleaming. He poured a final slow stream of oil directly into the valley between them and began to work it over the newly exposed skin with both palms, careful not to snap the delicate straps, yet deliberate enough that every stroke pushed the fabric further from what it was meant to cover.
![[Image: 766183931_85065.png]](https://pixhost.to/show/5460/766183931_85065.png)
Monica’s breathing had gone shallow. The bathtub felt smaller. The eucalyptus scent was everywhere now—sharp, cooling, and somehow filthy the way it mixed with the heat of their bodies.
“Ranga Anna…” she whispered.
He didn’t stop. His hands kept moving in slow, heavy circles, spreading the thick oil until her chest and shoulders shone like polished wood under rain, until the thin black bra was nothing more than wet, useless lines cutting across gleaming skin.
“Let the oil gets deep… that’s when the real pain relief with happen Monica!” Ranga said …
Monica’s head tipped forward a little more.
“It’s actually working… the pain feels controlled now Ranga Anna .. Shoulders aren’t locking the same way.”
Ranga’s hands kept moving, slow and heavy. “It’ll absorb deeper. Give it time.”
He poured another thin stream of the thick oil across the tops of her shoulders. His fingers found the thin black straps, slid underneath them, and began easing them outward. The wet fabric stretched and then slipped down her arms in one smooth motion.
Monica’s body stiffened.
“Ranga Anna—what are you doing? My straps—”
“It’s better,” Ranga said calmly, voice close to her ear. “Your Bra is absolutely already soaked. It’s just Useless now Monica”
The cups had nowhere to go. They settled loosely against the lower curves of her breasts, resting right on her nipples while her large Chocolate brown areolas sat fully exposed above the wet edge of the Bra. Her areolas were the sexiest part of her Breasts
Now, she was effectively topless, the heavy soft weight of her tits gleaming under the bathroom light, oil running in thin shiny lines between them.
Ranga’s palms returned to that newly bare skin without pause, spreading more oil in wide, deliberate circles. The sticky drag of his hands made every stroke feel heavier. Monica’s breath shortened. The muscle pain had faded into the background. What replaced it was a low, spreading heat that had nothing to do with eucalyptus. Monica was beginning to moan by the impact of pleasure.. She knew her moans were getting heavy inside the four walls of the bathroom. Her moans echoed and that made it sound filthy dirty and erotic inside the bathroom. Ranga heard it nonchalantly absolutely not giving any respite to Monica from the undeniable pleasure of the oil massage.
“I learned this inside,” Ranga murmured, thumbs sweeping under the full underside of each breast. “the Jail. Old guy from Madurai taught a few of us. Said nothing empties the head faster than proper oil massage. He wasn’t wrong. Right Monica ?” Ranga was now torturing Monica with the carnal pleasure he was giving to her.
Monica’s eyes were half-closed in the mirror. A soft sound escaped her throat when his thumbs brushed closer to her nipples. “ Ahhhh…ahhhh”
The pleasure peaked when Ranga’s fingers played with her areolas.. Monica had such sensitive areolas only she knew ..how much she loved such treatment of her areolas .
“Ranga Anna… at least… put…put the bra back… you’re making me—”
The sentence broke into another low moan as he cupped her more firmly, lifting the weight of her tits in both hands, testing how much they overflowed his palms. She tried again, voice uneven.
“Put it… back… you’re almost… ah—”
Ranga’s mouth stayed near her ear. “How’s the pain now?”
She forced the moan down long enough to answer. “It’s gone. Just… put the bra in place..please”
He didn’t. Instead he hooked his fingers under the loose, oil-soaked cups and slowly peeled the entire bra forward and off her body. The wet fabric clung for a second, then came free.
Monica’s protest came louder this time. “Ranga— I’m not getting nude for a massage—”
“No one’s walking in,” he said, calm as ever.
“ Ranga No..please what the fuck!!!!! “
Monica watched as he tossed the soaked bra toward the far corner of the bathroom. It landed with a soft, heavy slap against the tiles. “This is far better for the oil. Nothing blocking it now Monica.”
Her tits sat fully free, large, heavy, and shining with the rough sticky oil. The oil made them look almost polished. Ranga’s hands returned immediately, open and hungry, spreading more of the thick liquid over every inch, lifting them, squeezing, watching them move.
“Woww.. you have such beautiful breasts …Best I’ve seen,” he said, voice lower. “Even for my hands they’re huge.”
“Ranga.. What you think you are doing..This is just fucking inappropriate!” Monica breathed hard while speaking …
Ranga chuckled “ Relax! You can thank me later when the pain vanishes . Right now enjoy the art I learnt in the prison “
“You are impossible”
Monica twisted just enough to half-heartedly shove at his shoulder with one oily hand.
“I asked for a gym session, not to sit naked in a bathtub with you, you asshole.”
Ranga laughed, thumbs circling her nipples now, slow and deliberate, coating them until they stood tight and glossy under his touch. Her head dropped back against his shoulder enjoying his touch to the core . The protest stayed in her voice, but her body had already stopped fighting the way his hands claimed every oiled curve.
The cramped porcelain tub creaked subtly as Ranga shifted his heavy frame. Without breaking eye contact, he swung his leg over, turning around to face Monica directly face to face. His broad, dark chest filled her entire field of vision, the sharp, medicinal scent of the warm eucalyptus oil radiating off his skin in waves.
Ranga... wait, what are you doing?" Monica gasped, her breath catching as his dark knees pinned her legs against the smooth white porcelain..
"Can't reach the tension in the chest from behind, Monica" Ranga rumbled smoothly, his voice dropping into a thick, raspy murmur.
Before she could process a reply, he tipped another heavy pool of dark oil onto his palms, rubbed them together with a friction-filled slide, and slammed both broad, hands flat over her exposed breasts.
"Ranga! Ah— stop!" Monica choked out, her hands flying up to grip his thick wrists. "This isn't... this isn't just a shoulder massage anymore!"
Ranga didn't back off even an inch. His dark eyes locked onto hers, a wicked, unyielding smirk tugging at his lips as his hands began to knead her heavy breasts, squeezing and molding her breasts with brutal, unhurried dominance.
"You said your body was sore, didn't you?" Ranga grunted softly “You want the pain gone or not?"
"Ranga, please— mmff..." The protest died in her throat, dissolving into a low, shuddering moan that echoed softly off the bathroom walls.
Her fingers, which had initially gripped his wrists to push him away, suddenly lost their strength, sliding down to clutch the smooth rim of the bathtub for support.
She bit her lower lip hard, trying to hold back the sounds, but Ranga’s hands were merciless.
"Look at yourself in the mirror, Monica," Ranga commanded softly, his voice a low vibration over the sound of her rapid breathing...
Monica opened her heavy, half-closed eyes, looking sideways at the vanity mirror across the room. Her cheeks were burning red, her hair tumbling out of its topknot, her flushed, half-naked body pinned helplessly beneath Ranga’s shirtless, dominant frame. Her chest was completely covered in dark green, glistening oil, held and crushed inside his dark, calloused hands.
"You're... you're unbelievable, Ranga Anna," Monica whispered, her breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps as she arched her back into his touch, completely surrendering to the dirty, thrilling heat filling the small room.
From that moment, Ranga’s hands never left her.
“Look at your big tits, Monica. Shining from my oil. You want to wash this off now?”
Monica’s head was still tipped back against the porcelain, chest rising fast. Her voice came out uneven, thick with the same heat that had already soaked through her.
“I… I don’t know. This isn’t right. You should leave now, Ranga Anna.”
He smiled, slow and knowing, thumbs still brushing over her tight, glossy nipples.
“You didn’t answer. Shall we rinse the oil off?”
She let out a short, frustrated breath
“I don’t know, okay? I didn’t expect the massage would turn into… this.”
Ranga’s eyes stayed on her face. “I can help you wash it off if you need.”
Monica’s fingers flexed against the edge of the tub.
“What now?”
“Look.” That was all he said before he dropped his head and took her right nipple into his mouth.
Monica’s whole body jerked.
“Ranga—fuck—what are you—”
The protest was weak, almost automatic, and it died the second his tongue dragged hard over the oiled peak. He sucked strongly, wet and greedy, cheeks hollowing, while one hand kept mauling the other breast without mercy. The filthy, rhythmic sound of his mouth filled the small bathroom.
“Ahhh—shit—Ranga Anna—stop—mmhh—”
She kept trying to form sentences, but every one broke apart into louder, longer moans. Her hands came up to his head—not pushing, only holding—as he switched to the left nipple and sucked even harder, teeth grazing, tongue swirling through the thick eucalyptus. Oil and saliva mixed and ran down the underside of her breast. He followed the trail with his mouth, biting softly at the soft lower curve before returning to the nipple again.
Monica’s moans climbed. They bounced off the bathroom wall, raw and uncontrolled, the kind of sound that could be easily heard by a neighbour.
“God—your mouth—Ranga—this is so fucking—ahhh—”
He didn’t answer with words. He just kept sucking, long filthy pulls that made her back arch and her thighs tighten around him. One of her hands slid from his head to his shoulder, nails digging in. The other stayed locked on the tub rim like it was the only solid thing left...
The protests were completely gone and only the broken, hungry sounds of two people who had stopped pretending remained.
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