They keep you there a good ten minutes to relax before the masseuse enters. I call them masseurs but there is no real massage going on at all; it’s the best description I’ve found. I’m having Melissa. There’s no pretence here. She’s already naked and looking at me like I’m a piece of meat that’s on heat and gagging for it. She’s right of course.I catch a glimpse of her pussy as she leans over me; her breasts deliberately dangling centimetres from my mouth. She sways to and fro but they never once touches me.I can smell her arousal. I believe the masseurs play with each other before they enter a room so that they reek of the scent of sex; their arousal is already blatant to my eyes. I think they bring themselves to near climax so that they feel lusty. I’d do the same if I were in their shoes.My stomach tightens and I squirm in the chair as I feel the slightest touch of a fingernail slide over my shoulder and up the side of my neck. It stops at my earlobe and then makes its way. His eyes were closed and it seemed that his hands were absent-mindedly adjusting his bulge. His speedos were greenish-blue and there were no mysteries. He had two balls right there and the head of his dick was right there, pointing south. His hand was just brushing the length of his cock. Hmm. My second pass and his eyes were still closed, his mouth opened slightly like he was going to say something. His hand was still between his legs, but more toward where his balls were. The outline of his cock was pointing toward his chest. Cripes, the guy was hard. Just keep pushing the mower, ignore your rapid heartbeat, ignore the fact you wanted another peek. My reaction was as weird to me as this whole scene. My next pass put me that much closer to being done. As I got closer, he stood up and folded his chair. "Too hot for me right now, heading inside. Just come in the back there and I'll pay you when you're finished." He gave me a smile. He was definitely bulging still. He was probably.
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