Even his back was roped with well-defined muscles and tattoos, enough to make a girl blush. In my course, we’d always had same-sex massage partners. Michelle, the girl in my class, felt nothing like this.
There was just so much of him to touch.
You mean apply therapeutic massage techniques to, my conscience chided me. Yes, that.
I had to get more oil to get enough coverage on that broad back, but once everything was sliding nicely, I lost myself in the thoughts that forced their way into my mind. Honestly, I could have happily done this for hours, without a care in the world, until I felt something I shouldn’t have felt while on the job.
Between my legs. What was that? Oh no! I was absolutely, undeniably, wet. I glanced around nervously, as if Gordon might be there with my final paycheck in his hand, but there was nobody else in the room.
Maybe Austin felt me lose my rhythm, because he chose that exact moment to make my predicament even worse.
“Hop on. Straddle me. You’re not getting enough pressure on from the side.”
“Um… I’ll j-just try harder, sorry.”
The prizefighter, who had all his professional wins so far via submission, lifted his head and looked at me with unbendable will in his eyes. “You sure you work here? I said hop on.”
“OK, sorry. Please don’t say anything, I need this job. I… I didn’t know how things were done over on this side.”
Austin rested his head down again, and I climbed up as carefully as if I was crawling on paper-thin ice. Positioning myself over him, I set one knee down on either side of his hips.
He was right, I was definitely able to apply more pressure this way, but I couldn’t say much for my technique anymore, because all I could think about was how there was two-hundred and thirty pounds of world-class athlete between my legs.
As I did the best job I could, sparing some attention for his shoulders and upper arms, I noticed him slowly moving his feet apart. This made my kneeling stance wider, and brought my most private place closer to resting on him.
My body was rebelling. That was the only explanation for it. Years of pent-up frustration was threatening to burst through the dam, and that ever-increasing slickness between my legs was the evidence.
Every time I moved, my panties shifted and rubbed faintly against my clit, sending tingles quietly echoing around my body and settling in my belly. I had no idea how long I was supposed to massage him for, but if he made me keep doing this, I was almost certainly going to suffer the embarrassment of having an orgasm on top of him, and then lose my job.
That thought did its best to dampen the excitement that was coursing through me, and didn’t quite manage it. I could feel my jaw quivering as if I was cold, from the sheer effort it was taking to not subtly grind myself against him to relieve this insane pressure.
Please, let me get through this. Please let me keep my job. Please don’t make me go home to my dad.
If anybody was listening, it certainly wasn’t Austin. Instead of ending my torture, he shifted under me.
“What are you doing?” I asked as I moved myself as high on my knees as I could.
“Now the front,” he said.
“I- I don’t…”
I’d never massaged the front in my classes and I had no idea what you were supposed to do. Austin had some ideas though, and took hold of my wrists, placing my hands on his chest and making me lean forward.
My palms were still slick with the massage oil, and they slid across his taut skin easily as he slowly moved them downwards along the same trail my eyes had followed earlier. I felt every bump of his abs as my fingers paused in each crevice between those well-defined muscles before slipping to the next one.
Then I looked down further, where those converging lines of his lower abdominals were pointing, and somebody fired a butterfly cannon in my stomach. His towel had come untucked!
I could see bare skin from his stomach down to his thigh, with that one part of a man I was especially forbidden to think about barely hidden by the towel. It was making a huge bulge in that token cover, and it was right under me! I felt another flush, this one centered between my legs, making me feel hot down there. There was only one thing in the world that could quench that fire.
“Please,” I breathed, desperately wanting to let go for once, to give in. “Don’t make me…”
What? Don’t make me cum? Don’t make me lose my job? All of the above and more?
Chapter 3
Austin
Motherfucking jackpot. There is nothing I like more than destroying some asshole who thought he was a tough guy and then sliding my cock into some tight wet pussy. Fucking and fighting was my bread and butter, and I always ate my fill.
Coming out of the shower to this chick was a breath of fresh air, after seeing the usual pop-star wannabe groupies already waiting outside my door when I came back after the fight. She forgot to introduce herself but the name on her, possibly stolen, name-badge said “Skylar” and she was fuckin’ smoking hot.