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Jared first stepped into your private nail studio in Center City six months ago, recommended by a teammate who said you were “the best in Philly and you don’t judge.”

He was shy back then. A quiet rookie still adjusting to the NBA life, walking in wearing all black with his curls tucked under a backward cap. He asked for a simple black set. You convinced him to add a little chrome accent on two fingers. When you held his large, long hands in yours to work, you felt him tremble slightly. He kept stealing glances at you, cheeks pink, barely speaking above a whisper.

That was the first clue.

By the second appointment, he was booking double slots. By the third, he started asking you to pick the colors. By the fourth, he was calling you “ma’am” without thinking, melting every time you praised him for sitting still.

Now, six months later, he was completely addicted — to the way you took control, to the way you touched him, to the way you made the confident, silky-smooth rookie disappear and leave behind the sweetest, neediest boy you’d ever met.

It was almost 10 p.m. on a Friday. The studio was closed to everyone except him.

Jared sat in your client chair, freshly soaked hands resting on the towel. You’d just finished painting his nails a glossy, expensive cherry red with a soft gold shimmer on the tips. They looked beautiful on his long fingers.

You capped the polish and leaned back, admiring your work.

“Look at you,” you murmured, running your thumb gently over his knuckles. “Such pretty hands. You gonna keep them nice for me?”

Jared’s breath hitched. His cheeks flushed that familiar rosy color as he nodded quickly. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be careful.”

You smiled, loving how easily he slipped into that soft, obedient headspace for you. You stood up and stepped between his spread thighs, tilting his chin up with two fingers.

“You’ve been such a good boy for me lately,” you praised softly. “Coming in every two weeks, sitting so still, letting me do whatever I want… I think you deserve a reward.”

His eyes widened, already glassy with need. “Please.”

You took his freshly painted right hand and slowly guided it under your skirt. Jared’s breath stuttered when his fingers brushed against your bare, soaked pussy.

“Feel how wet I am?” you whispered. “That’s all for you, baby. You did that just by sitting here looking pretty for me.”

He let out a soft, needy whimper, eyes fluttering as you pressed two of his long fingers against your entrance.

“Put them inside me,” you told him gently. “Slowly. I want to feel those pretty red nails.”

Jared obeyed instantly, pushing two fingers into your tight heat with a shaky exhale. The stretch was perfect — his fingers were so long they reached deep without any effort. He curled them gently the way you’d taught him, stroking your walls with careful reverence.

“Like this?” he asked breathlessly, looking up at you for approval.

“Just like that,” you moaned, rolling your hips slowly on his hand. “Good boy. You’re doing so well.”

The glossy red nails disappeared inside you again and again, shining brighter every time they came out wetter. Jared was completely focused on you, lips parted, breathing heavy as he fingered you exactly how you wanted.

You rode his fingers faster, gripping his shoulder with one hand while the other played with his curls.

“Can I use three?” he asked softly, almost shyly. “I want to make you feel really good.”

You nodded, kissing his forehead. “Go ahead, baby.”

He added a third finger, stretching you open as he pumped them deeper. His thumb found your clit, rubbing slow, gentle circles while he watched your face like it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“You’re so tight,” he whispered in awe. “I love how you feel around my fingers… thank you for letting me touch you like this.”

His sweetness mixed with the filthy sight of his expensive manicure buried knuckle-deep inside you was driving you crazy. You rode his hand harder, grinding down on his long fingers while he whimpered softly every time you clenched around him.

“I’m close,” you gasped, tugging his curls.

“Please cum for me,” he begged sweetly, curling his fingers just right. “I want to feel it. Please let me make you cum.”

You came hard with a broken moan, thighs shaking around his wrist as your walls pulsed around his painted fingers. Jared kept stroking you gently through it, whispering soft praises the entire time.

“So pretty when you cum… you’re so perfect… thank you for using me…”

When you finally came down, you pulled his hand out and brought his dripping fingers to his own mouth.

“Clean them,” you ordered softly.

Jared opened his mouth obediently, sucking his own fingers clean with a needy moan, eyes locked on yours the whole time. The sight of his red nails disappearing between his pretty lips made you throb again.

You kissed him deeply, tasting yourself on his tongue, then slowly sank to your knees between his spread legs.

Jared’s eyes widened. “You don’t have to—”

“Shh.” You pulled his sweats and boxers down, freeing his long, hard cock. It was flushed dark and leaking, twitching under your gaze. “You’ve been such a good boy. Let me take care of you now.”

You took him into your mouth slowly, savoring every inch. Jared’s head fell back against the chair with a broken whimper, his freshly painted fingers gently threading into your hair — never pushing, just holding on like he needed something to ground him.

You sucked him slow and deep, worshipping him with your mouth while he moaned and whimpered above you, always so polite even when he was falling apart.

“Feels so good… thank you… you’re so good to me…”

When he started trembling and whimpering that he was close, you pulled off and climbed into his lap, sinking down onto his cock in one smooth motion.

Jared gasped loudly, arms wrapping around you as you started riding him.

“You can hold me,” you whispered, kissing his neck. “But don’t thrust. Let me use you.”

He nodded frantically, burying his face in your neck as you rode him exactly how you wanted — slow, deep, grinding rolls of your hips. His painted fingers dug into your back, but he never took control, just held onto you like you were his whole world.

“I’m gonna cum,” he whimpered against your skin, voice cracking. “Please can I cum inside you?”

“Yes, baby. Cum for me.”

Jared came with a soft, broken cry, hips twitching as he spilled deep inside you, pulse after pulse of warmth. You kept riding him gently through it until he was shaking and oversensitive, pressing kisses all over his face.

Afterward, he stayed buried inside you, arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he nuzzled into your chest.

“You’re so good to me,” he whispered, voice hoarse and full of affection. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

You smiled, stroking his curls and kissing the top of his head. “You’re my favorite client… and my favorite boy.”

Jared blushed hard, hiding his face in your neck again.

You stayed like that for a long time — him still inside you, arms around each other, the soft music playing in the background while you praised him and he melted under every word.

Your sweet, submissive rookie.