6
He worked his finger against that spot with incredible precision, and my hips began to move of their own accord, pressing back against his hand.
My cock, which had been hard the entire time, began to leak against the table.
The pleasure built and built, winding tighter and tighter in my core, and I could feel myself getting close to the edge.
Then Ravi withdrew his finger completely.
I made an embarrassing sound of protest, my hips still moving, searching for contact that was no longer there. My whole body was trembling, so close to orgasm that I could taste it, and then it was gone.
“Not yet,” Ravi said, his voice gentle but firm.
He cleaned his hands and then returned to the massage, his touch shifting back to the professional.
I lay there, breathing hard, my cock still painfully hard against the table, as he continued to work on my lower back and legs like he hadn’t just brought me to the edge of the most intense orgasm of my life and then pulled back.
It was torture. It was perfect. It was exactly what I needed, even though I didn’t understand why.
After several more minutes of this, Ravi spoke again.
“Turn over for me, please.”
I hesitated, aware that turning over would fully expose my very obvious arousal.
But there was something in his tone that allowed no argument.
So I carefully rolled myself onto my back, my cock springing up the moment it was free from the table.
I felt my face flush with embarrassment, but Ravi didn’t even glance down.
He just moved to the head of the table and continued the massage as if nothing had happened.
His hands worked across my chest, my shoulders, my arms.
He paid careful attention to my pecs, working deep into the muscle, and I found myself hyperaware of every point of contact.
When he reached my abs, his fingers pressed firmly, finding tension even there, even in places I hadn’t realized I was holding stress.
The whole time, my cock stood at attention between us, leaking steadily onto my stomach.
I wanted to cover it, to apologize for it, but Ravi’s presence didn’t invite that kind of self-consciousness.
He was focused entirely on the work. However, I stole a glance or two while he worked and noticed that I wasn’t the only one that was hard. Clearly he was enjoying himself too.
This might’ve been the most erotic thing I’d ever done.
When he finally reached my thighs, his hands lingered there, working the muscles with the same careful attention he’d given everywhere else. But this time, when his fingers dipped inward, they didn’t stop at massage. His palm wrapped around my cock, and I sucked in a sharp breath.
“Still okay?” he asked, though his hand didn’t move, just held me firmly.
“Yeah,” I managed, my voice rough. “Yeah, that’s… that’s good.”
He began to stroke me slowly, his grip confident and sure. The oil made everything slick and easy, and I could feel every detail of his hand as it moved along my shaft. My hips wanted to thrust up into his grip, but I forced myself to stay still, to let him set the pace.
“You deserve this,” he said quietly, and something about the way he said it, like he really meant it, like he understood exactly what I needed, made my heart race. “You deserve to feel good. To let someone take care of you for once.”
I wanted to argue, to tell him I was fine taking care of myself, but the words wouldn’t come. The truth was, I wasn’t fine. I hadn’t been fine in years. And having someone touch me with intention, with actual care, was breaking down walls I’d built so carefully that I’d forgotten they were there.
His strokes quickened slightly, and I could feel the pressure building again, that same exquisite tension winding tighter in my core. My breathing came faster, my hands gripping the edges of the massage table as pleasure rushed through me.
“That’s it,” Ravi murmured. “Let yourself feel it.”
My hips began to move in rhythm with his hand, meeting each stroke. The pleasure was almost unbearable, climbing higher and higher. I could feel the edge approaching, could feel myself about to tip over into release, and then?—
He stopped again.
I made a sound that was half groan, half whimper, my body left hanging in that agonizing space between pleasure and frustration. My cock pulsed in his grip, desperate for the friction to continue, but his hand had gone still.
“Why?” I gasped out, my voice almost unrecognizable.
“Because,” Ravi said, and I could hear the smile in his voice, “I want you to last. I want you to feel this for as long as possible.”