You are laying on the table, face down, in front of me, completely nude except for the small towel that decorum says must cover your buttocks. Your hands are crossed under your right cheek and your eyes are closed as if you are asleep. The scented oil is glistening on my hands as I began the massage. I can feel the tension dissolving as I expertly manipulate your and shoulder neck muscles.
With amusement I think that a kiss right here, right now could cause more tension in me than your hands could relieve in hours. I radiate outward to the shoulders and down your back, the oils lubricating my hands as they glide over your leather-like skin. Your arms become rubbery as I pull today's tension from them. I move to one side and slowly work my way down your spine, pushing the towel aside to expose the sacroiliac area. From this vantage point I can see that your muscles are rippling under your skin, clenching and releasing each time I move just a little lower. I work my way down your side until my fingertips barely brush against the outer edge of your right hip. This causes a small stirring on your part but no other reaction.
Now I rearrange the towel to partially expose your firm buttocks and their exotic cleavage. Your skin feels like velvet over steel as the oil allows my hands to slip and slide over and around these wondrous mounds of flesh. As I move to the foot of the table you spread your legs ever so slightly, just enough so that I can see a lump of skin that must be your testicles at their intersection. Carefully, so very carefully, I began the massage of the calf of your right leg.
I know that professionally, I must not allow my fingers to brush against that part of you that I so long to touch. I work my way down the leg to the calf and eventually the foot, where each toe is administered to in its own time. Beginning again on the left buttocks the entire process is repeated again. The restraint to keep me from touching you inappropriately is almost more than I can stand. I tell you that I am finished on this side and look away while you turn over. When I look back I'm surprised that the towel has not been completely discarded and is strategically placed to cover your manhood.
Your eyes are still closed as if in sleep and I can detect the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest as you breathe. I position myself at your head to massage your face, cheeks, chin and neck area. As I work my way towards your chest I can't help but notice that your abs are firm and well proportioned. Propriety does not allow me to touch the nipples with my hands so I carefully avoid them as I handle your chest area, but how I long to take one in my mouth, to suckle like a child, to nibble, bite and lick, to caress and fondle it with my hands. As I move around the table my hands trace a path down your stomach to the hip area. Your hand laying at your side on the table is only millimeters away from my groin, and as I push myself against the table I fantasize that it is me receiving this attention.
I purposely push my pelvic area against the table as I fantasize that it is your hand slipping under my short skirt and with only a few strokes of your fingers you relieve me of the tensions you have caused. If I continue to dwell on this my panties will be soaked, so move along. Again I must carefully avoid the little patch of the towel that hides your swelling sex. My fingers ache to caress this area and my mouth is dry with the thought of what you would taste like if I were allowed to engulf you with my mouth, were allowed to slide up and down on your wondrous tool and how you would feel imbedded deep inside me.
I regain my composure and with the same consideration that I used on the back side I work my way down the front of your thigh. Again my fingers are within a hairs breath from touching your most private parts. I can't take my eyes off your the towel and the swelling that has occurred there. I marvel at how much you have grown. Just as the heady aroma of your sex, the erotic thoughts in my mind, the scented oils and the feel of your warm body completely under the control of my hands cause me to think I will not be able to control myself any longer, the bell rings. The hour is over and I must change my underclothes and prepare myself for the next client.
Oh well, "See you next week at the same time."