“Are you ready for your hair orgasm?”

[br****]

I watched her approach, her body moving with such confidence, shedding her clothes one piece at a time, each item falling to the floor like an invitation. When she stood before me, I could feel her heat, her body pressing against me, and I couldn’t ignore the way my desire responded, a heat rising between us.

She took off her panties slowly, teasingly, before tossing them toward me. The fabric brushed my face, faintly scented with roses, leaving a trace of something intoxicating and forbidden.

We had talked about the perfect hair orgasm—or so I thought. My focus was consumed by the word orgasm so i didn’t care to think twice…

As I anticipated her next move, expecting her to kneel and show me how desperately she craved me, she surprised me. Instead of dropping to her knees, she pulled out a stool and guided me to sit. Her hands were gentle but firm as she began massaging my scalp, her touch slow, deliberate.

“Are you ready for your hair orgasm?” she asked, her voice low and filled with playful mischief.

That’s when it hit me. I had missed a word, and suddenly the reality of the moment shifted. What had I just agreed to?