Page 28 of Your Only Fan
If he does, maybe I’ll be able to figure myself out.
“What did you have in mind?”
“Maybe I can give you a massage? I’m trained,” he says.
“Okay,” I answer.
Cummings sits up.
Is this it? Is it the time he shows me his face?
“Great,” he says, patting the space next to him. “Lie down.”
I don’t move straight away.
“So… you’re not taking that thing off?” I ask.
He stills for a moment.
Then…
“Sorry. I’m… I’m not ready,” he says.
“Okay,” is my reply.
I have half a mind to just leave, anyway. This is way too weird.
But something compels me to sit beside him. The hairs on my skin stand to attention. He rests a hand on my chest and pushes me down gently.
He mounts me and looks up.
“There’s some oil in the drawer.” He points to one of his bedside cabinets.
I slide the thing open and locate the oil amongst the dildos, fleshlights, anal beads, and cock rings.
A nice, colorful collection.
I pass him the oil, and he starts with smooth hands over my pectorals in circular motions, reaching up to my deltoids and then back again.
It’s delicate and slow, but also has some pressure to it that I feel the muscles relaxing.
I watch him, focus my attention to his hood and the man hiding behind it, trying to imagine what he really is like.
What color are his eyes? How long are his lashes? What thickness are his lips? What’s the shape of his nose? How long is his hair?
“Do you like this?” he asks.
I moan. “Feels… so… good.”
“Good,” he says, and I can almost tell there’s a smile from the way his hood moves around the mouth zipper.
When he’s done with the front, he orders me to turn over and gets working on my back.
This isn’t just good. This is beyond good. It’s more than I’ve ever been offered, especially postcoitally.
I lose myself in the feel of his hands on my shoulder blades, the weight of his body on my ass, the soft sheets under me.
I can get used to this.
