I rub my hands together to warm them, and then massage his shoulders through his fitted T-shirt. He winces and tenses his right shoulder, where the muscles are stiff compared to his left side.
“Relax,” I urge.
He nods and bows his head.
At first, he winces with every movement of my hand, but, gradually, the tension in his right shoulder eases, and he stops reacting in a pained way.
“It's nice,” he whispers.
I smile. I’m glad the massage is helping. I’m enjoying doing it. If only he were topless, his skin glistening with massage oil. I’d give him a full-body massage if he asked. Not that he will. It will have to remain an unvoiced desire.
“Have you thought about doing this for a living?”
“Being a masseuse?”
“Sports massages.”
“Maybe. I prefer helping people in the gym. Knowing how to work out correctly minimises the chances of needing a sports therapist.”
“But you’re so good at it.”
I widen my smile to a grin. “I’m good at weightlifting, too.”
“I bet you are.” His voice has a dreamy quality to it now.
I’ve noticed him checking out my muscles. Does he appreciate all the effort I’ve put into getting buff?
“How is your shoulder now?”
“A lot better, thanks.”
“You need a follow-up appointment.”
“For another massage?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm… I’m here tomorrow…”
“I think I could fit you in.”
He chuckles. “Book me in.”
“Done.”
I should stop. I’ve done enough to loosen his shoulder up and ease his pain, at least for now. It mightstiffen up again by morning. I don’t want to stop. I want to keep feeling his pliant muscles beneath my hands, even if his T-shirt is in the way, and make him feel good.
“So nice.” He groans.
The noise goes straight to my cock. Well, fuck. Now I have a semi-hard-on. I can’t stop massaging him now, or he’ll turn around and see that I’m aroused. I need my pulse to calm the fuck down. I need my cock to wilt, but it’s showing no signs of doing that.
“Has anyone ever given you a massage before?”
“No.”
“You’ve been missing out.”
“I have.”
