Parental Controls

Gia Derza keeps an eye on new video games. Her father builds them but lately stays quiet about his latest VR project. That silence only stokes her curiosity. She waits until the house sits empty, then slips into his office and boots the headset. The game boots past its parental gate, and the scene blooms in crisp light. A polished massage room with pale tile and warm candles fills her view, but it is the masseuse—Kenna James—who draws her eye. The sculpted blonde smiles, flawless render of jawline, collarbones, and lean curves. She asks if Gia wants a session. Gia answers yes, letting the headset fit tighter across her brow. Kenna kneels beside the table, fingers moving with confident, practiced pressure up Gia’s thighs and lower back. Oil spreads under warm palms, thumbs dragging circles around tight muscle before they glide under the strap at her hips. Soon enough, breaths shorten. The curve of Kenna’s knuckles barely grazes the lower swell of Gia’s ass, lifting cloth, coaxing bare skin against the towel. Those hands remain gentle yet unhurried as the touch drifts toward her slit. Slender fingers stroke moist lips in slow lines and deeper presses, each stroke coaxing wetness that beads along folds. Gia pants into empty air while the nude blonde mounts the table, wet heat grazing against her, bodies sliding in perfect rhythm on the padded surface. The slow grind builds—clit on clit, slick skin meeting slick skin—until both shiver close to release. The clean scents of lavender oil and sweat mingle, mingling with the echo of soft moans that feel real under the headset. Gia stays spellbound until she realizes this was never meant to be public, not under any developer’s nose, least of all her father’s.