But if it was nothing – if he’s not planning on doing anything – why did he get me all naked and oiled up?
“A lot of people don’t appreciate how tight their calves can get,” he explains as he works my muscle. “But it’s important to get everywhere. Don’t you agree?”
“Oh, sure,” I reply. I probably sound frustrated, and that’s because I am. I don’t know what’s going on right now. Is he teasing me? Torturing me? Playing with me like a kitten with a string? I honestly don’t know. And what’s worse, I don’t even know what I want him to be doing.
Melissa would kill me if she saw what was happening right now, and I hate to admit it, but I feel just as powerful as that piece of string between that kitten’s claws.
He switches to my other calf and repeats the process in silence. He moves up my right thigh, stops just below my butt, and then moves to my left. I have to admit that his technique is almost perfect, but the anticipation of what’s about to happen – what might happen – has me unable to fully enjoy myself.
But then Grayson does something that clarifies everything.
He moves up, higher than any legal massage parlor would ever allow, and presses his fingers into the spot where my butt meets my thigh – my inner thigh.
And then I realize why Grayson took so long doing the rest of my body; he was teasing me, and the result is that my whole body instantly comes alive like every light in my house turning on at the same time. A ball of warmth bursts in my stomach and floods out through my limbs as his fingers brush against my most delicate spot.
I breathe deep and ready myself for what is surely coming next.
I can’t even believe this is happening – that I’m allowing it to happen.
But what happens next is again not what I expected. Grayson moves his ha
nds from between my legs and up to my lower back. This time, I don’t make a sound.
What is he doing!? That was not an accident. He meant to do that. Is he really going to keep teasing me?
And am I really dying for him to relieve me of this torture?
He’s been standing at my side this whole time, but now he circles around to the front of the table. I can see his feet through the cutout in the face cushion. I do my best to pretend I’m fixing my hair, but it’s really just an excuse to get a quick glance at him, and when I do, my cheeks start burning.
He is hard. He’s only wearing sweatpants, and I can tell he doesn’t have boxers on underneath. His cock is sticking straight out, making a tent out of the fabric. Quickly, I hide my face again and listen for his reaction. But he either didn’t notice what I just did, or he’s choosing to stay silent. He moves his hands to my back from this new angle and goes to work again.
“So, uh…where’d you learn your technique?” I ask, trying not to stroke his ego any more by asking him how he got so amazing at giving massages.
“It sounds weird, but back in high school.”
“High school?”
“There was this girl named Kelsey in my chemistry class. I think she liked me and would always ask me to rub her back when we had double period. She told me I had deli-fingers.”
“Deli-fingers!?” I laugh. “Like…cold cuts?”
Grayson chuckles. “Deli like delicate.”
“Oh, that makes more sense.” And it’s true, but I don’t say that. But Grayson doesn’t let me off that easy.
“Do you agree?”
Shit.
“I mean…your technique is solid.” I’m trying so hard not to come right out and tell him that what he’s doing is driving me wild. He doesn’t need any more confidence or he might overflow with it.
“Solid,” he remarks, stepping closer, so close I can feel the heat from his torso against my neck. His scent fills my nose. “Yeah. I’m feeling pretty solid too right now.”
And then his hands move…down…
He grasps my butt with a strong grip and squeezes. I can’t contain it any longer. I let out a long moan as he spreads me open and I feel the flow from the air system between my legs.
Holy cannoli, is this really happening!?