You Cum When I Say So
Imagine it. I'm holding your cock, dripping warm oil over your swollen glans, and you just soak up the feeling of the warmth oozing over your sensitive underside. A smooth caress that takes your breath away. You're lying back on my massage table, head supported by a towel, entirely focused on the scene in front of you. The world is forgotten and all cares pushed aside as my free hand now slides over your swollen end, squeezing hard as I stroke down and both hands meet at the base of your shaft. Your hard-on stands proud and fully erect. A teardrop of pre-cum eases its way out of your tip and I grip hard with both hands to quell any urges you may have to shoot your load.
I'm not done with you yet.
A Very Rude Request
You've been a regular of mine for the last few months, coming in for a back massage every couple of weeks, and we get on well. We're at that relaxed stage that regular contact brings, and at the last couple of appointments the conversation has become more familiar. I know you're quite happy at home, but do like to flirt and have strayed on occasion. You know I'm in a similar situation, and were delighted to find out that I'm not averse to a little extra excitement myself. I did make it clear that I never go all the way with anyone else, and you respect my boundaries. That said, it didn't stop you flirting outrageously, and on our last appointment you asked me if I'd ever learned about erotic massage.
The truth is I know all about erotic massage. Back when I was single and broke, a friend of mine got me into it as a way to make some quick (and very easy) money. It turned out I had a natural talent for the craft and had a regular flow of happy customers, both male and female. But then I came to the notice of the local police. While I was always careful not to go all the way with my clients and stayed within the law, only ever charging for the massage and never accepting tips for extras, the caution from the local cop un-nerved me enough to pull up sticks, move to a new town and start again.
But I didn't share that with you. I pretended I knew nothing about it.
So, when you arrived today you were just expecting a regular massage. Which is why I wish I could have taken a picture of your expression when you were sliding onto the table and I told you to lie face up for a change.
As you were settling back with a half confused, half expectant, look on your face, I told you I'd been thinking about what you said. The truth is I had, but not in the way I was telling you. After I got home from work that night I was lying in bed, feeling more than a little horny, but my partner wasn't interested. He's in the middle of a big thing at work and leaves early, comes home late, exhausted and pretty much crashes. He's got a few more days of this and I just have to go with the flow until its done. So, I got to thinking about you and your question.
I then got to thinking about all the cocks and pussies I used to bring to orgasm day after day, and the feeling of satisfaction I got when the spunk and pussy juice would start to fly, all because I had the magic touch. With those images in my mind I started to wonder about your cock. I knew you had a nice body. Not ripped like some gym addict teenager, but manly and attractive, and I had noticed the bulge under the towel whenever you were climbing on and off the table. A clear indication you were more than a little keen on me.
Before I knew it one hand was sliding between my legs and the other was squeezing my tits as I treated myself to a nice long, sneaky wank, being careful not to moan or jiggle the bed and wake up my partner. When I came, mouth tightly closed to try and control my gasps, the image in my mind was what I thought your rock-hard cock would be like. As I relaxed back into a happy doze, I decided it would do no harm to have a little fun with you.