Pressure Point Reached

Introduction:

Stefan hadn't planned on having his entire week turned upside down by a massage appointment.

He just wanted relief something to finally untangle the knot of pain buried in his back and hips after too many hours chained to a desk. But what started as a casual recommendation from his best friend quickly spiraled into something far more complicated. And intimate. And intense.

Minja wasn't what he expected. Soft spoken, grounded, and quietly magnetic, she had a touch that went far beyond therapeutic and a presence that slipped under his skin before he could stop it. Their first session was meant to be professional, clean, clinical. But from the moment her fingers found the tension buried deep in his body, something else sparked between them. Something slow and smoldering. Something neither of them were entirely prepared for.

And when boundaries begin to blur beneath the warm hush of oil slicked skin and unspoken desire, Stefan realizes that sometimes the cure for pain isn't just in the hands it's in the heat between them.

A story of accidental tension, lingering touches, and the kind of release you don't schedule online.

.......................................................................................................................................................

Stefan's back had been killing him for weeks.

It started as a dull stiffness a low, persistent throb along his spine after hours spent hunched over his laptop in his cramped home office. But over time, it had crept lower, settling like a hot knot in his hips, nagging him every time he shifted in his chair. Stretching helped for maybe ten minutes. Heating pads? Temporary relief. Hot showers, foam rollers, yoga videos that left him embarrassingly sore the next day? Nothing worked. Even heroic doses of ibuprofen only dulled the pain long enough to get through a Zoom meeting.

The worst part was how it made him feel weak. At thirty one, Stefan had always prided himself on being fairly active bike rides on weekends, the occasional jog, even a flirtation with kettlebells. But now? He winced like someone's dad just climbing out of bed.

He had been complaining about it nonstop to his best friend Lila, who finally interrupted him mid rant with an exasperated sigh.

"You should go to Minja," she said, flicking through her phone. "She's my old neighbor. We used to go to the same middle school. Super shy, always had her nose in a book. Now she's, like, a massage therapist or something. Has a home setup. Helped my brother last year when he threw his back out after trying to impress some girl at the gym. He literally couldn't stop talking about her for weeks."

"Really?" Stefan arched a brow. "I don't know, I usually just go to that weird chiropractor downtown."

Lila rolled her eyes. "That guy that made you sign up for six sessions before touching your spine once? Yeah, try Minja. She's affordable, private, and she's, like... sweet. But in that quiet, lowkey way. Plus, she has five stars on Yelp. I think she has an Instagram page too."

Later that night, Stefan found himself scrolling through @SpineSpiritTherapy.

Minja's page was modest. Clean and calming. Neutral tones. Soft lighting. A few close up shots of her workspace massage oils neatly arranged, soft blue towels folded perfectly, a diffuser puffing mist in the background. Her captions were always warm, professional, and personal.

"Tension can make the body feel like it's betraying you. Be gentle with yourself. Bookings open this week."

He scrolled further. There were a few photos of her mostly candid, taken from the side or in motion, always in soft cotton shirts or neutral scrubs. She wasn't showing off. There was a softness to her smile, a down to earth realness. He liked that.

He clicked over to the booking link and fired off a DM.

Stefan: Hey! My friend Lila recommended you. Said you helped her brother last year. I've been dealing with some back/hip tension and wondering if you had anything open?

A minute later, the little "typing..." bubble popped up.

Minja: Hi Stefan :) Yes, I remember Lila! I'd be happy to help. I have a couple openings this week. Do you prefer daytime or evening?

They messaged back and forth, working out a slot that Friday. She gave him her address, a note about parking, and added, "Just ring the bell when you arrive. Or if I don't answer right away, give it a second. Sometimes I'm finishing up with another client. No need to bring anything but yourself."

*****

Now here Stefan stood, outside a modest four story brick house in a quiet residential neighborhood. The front lawn was tidy, a row of low hedges framing the walkway. A windchime tinkled softly in the breeze.

He reached out to press the doorbell but the door swung open before he could touch it.

Minja stood there, slightly breathless. Her ponytail was a little crooked, and her pale green t shirt was slightly rumpled, tucked into high waisted black yoga pants that hugged her hips in a way that surprised him. She was wiping her hands on a towel, her cheeks slightly pink.

"Oh! You're Stefan, right?" she asked, her voice soft, a little startled.

He nodded, smiling. "Yeah. Sorry if I'm early."

"No, no," she shook her head quickly. "You're right on time. I was just finishing up cleaning the room. Come in, please."

The entryway smelled faintly of eucalyptus and sandalwood. The space was cozy a few potted plants, a shoe rack, and a soft carpet leading down the hallway.

She led him toward a small converted bedroom just off the hall.

"This is my setup. Nothing fancy," she said. "But it's quiet, and the neighbors don't complain."

The room was warm, softly lit by a standing lamp in the corner. The massage table sat in the center, draped with a navy sheet. A small shelf held an array of oils, clean towels, and a tiny speaker playing gentle, instrumental music.

"You can leave your clothes over there," she said, motioning to a chair. "Undress to whatever you're comfortable with. Most people go down to their underwear. I'll give you a moment to get settled under the towel, and then I'll knock before I come back in."

Stefan nodded again, grateful for her calm, measured tone.

As she stepped out and closed the door gently behind her, he exhaled, then looked around the room again, heart ticking faster than it should.

Alright, he thought, time to find out if this was a good idea... or the best one you've had all month.

He reached for his belt. He peeled off his clothes, leaving on just his dark grey boxer briefs, and lay down on the table. The towel she'd left him was small and thin, just enough to cover his ass. He adjusted it awkwardly, feeling slightly exposed but telling himself to relax. He was here for back pain, not to flirt. Even if her eyes had lingered for half a second when he turned to enter the room...

*****

Minja stood with a shy, startled smile.

She was... not what he had expected.

Her dark brown hair was pulled into a loose ponytail, and her bangs framed her wide, expressive eyes in a way that made her look more like a bookish art student than a massage therapist. She wore fitted black yoga pants and a pale T shirt with "Spine & Spirit Therapy" embroidered across the chest in small white lettering.

He was already warm not from the room, but from the surprise of seeing her. Lila had said nothing about Minja being cute. Not just attractive cute. That kind of sweet, shy energy that sneaks up on you. And her voice had this softness to it, like she was always one nervous breath away from a giggle.

The door clicked softly.

"Okay," Minja said, her voice quieter now. "All set?"

"Yeah, all yours."

She stepped into view and moved around to his left. Stefan kept his head down in the padded face cradle, watching her feet in soft cotton socks as she adjusted her angle. The first touch came without warning warm oil and both of her hands on his upper back, sliding up the muscles with a feather light glide.

He let out a slow breath.

Her hands were small but deliberate yet strong. She knew what she was doing. She started by spreading the oil from his shoulders to mid back, warming him up before kneading deeper.

"You have... a lot of tension here," she said softly. "Upper traps, rhomboids... You sit a lot, yeah?"

"All day," he groaned. "I think my spine is trying to turn into a question mark."

She laughed, a genuine little snort escaping. "We'll unbend you."

She worked silently for a few minutes, her fingers gliding over him in slow, practiced strokes. Then came the firm press of her thumbs down either side of his spine. Stefan felt his body relaxing more deeply than it had in days. His breathing slowed. Her touch was professional but intimate comforting, focused, with just the tiniest hints of uncertainty in how she moved.

Like she was thinking very carefully about every move she made. Every glide of her palm, every shift of weight from heel to toe. Minja moved with a kind of quiet focus that gave even the most mundane gestures a charged precision, and Stefan wasn't sure if it was just his imagination or something more deliberate. But it was getting harder to ignore the undercurrent.

"You're... not too ticklish, are you?" she asked softly, voice low and warm as she moved down toward his lower back. Her fingers had started to slow, spreading slightly as they approached the waistband of his boxers, still half hidden under the towel.

"Nope," Stefan replied, doing his best to keep his voice steady even as a small shiver crept down his spine. Her touch wasn't featherlight, but it didn't need to be. The sensation of her fingertips grazing the edge of the fabric was enough to short circuit entire lines of thought. "You're good."

"Okay," she murmured. There was a beat of silence where only the soft sound of oil and skin filled the room. Then, with a faint breath: "Some people... tense up when I work near here. I try to be respectful. But I'll still get close. It's where most lower back pain radiates from, right around the hips..."

Her voice trailed off into quiet again, but her hands stayed sure strong, methodical, and careful as they pressed into the tight muscles of his lower back and glutes. But her fingers... they drifted close. Just close enough to test boundaries. Her thumbs dug in with focused pressure, but her pinky finger, barely grazing, flirted with the inside of his thigh. A slow brush, soft and fleeting.

Stefan's jaw clenched. Okay. Stay cool. You're not imagining it.

Then it happened again a flicker of contact so light he might have questioned it, if it didn't land in that exact same spot. Not overt. Not necessarily on purpose.

Just enough.

The towel, loosely tucked over his hips, shifted slightly with each subtle shift of her position. As Minja moved down to his calves, her touch reset professional again, measured and impersonal but Stefan couldn't ignore the low simmer now building in his core. Her hands moved in slow, firm strokes over his legs, her fingers curling around the thick muscle of his calves, gliding up to his hamstrings. She was working deep, and the tension she kneaded from his body only seemed to coil lower, tighter, hotter.

And he knew he knew that there was no way she didn't see it. The fabric of his underwear had done nothing to contain the rising swell of his arousal, and even under the towel, the erection under him was growing unmistakable. When her fingers had slid beneath to reach the deep muscles at the top of his inner thighs, her knuckles brushed against the pronounced curve of his bulge. Her hands had faltered for half a second, no more than a hitch in her rhythm, but Stefan felt it. Felt the pause.

And felt the air in the room shift.

A minute later, she cleared her throat quiet, nearly imperceptible and moved her hands with calm deliberation to his hamstrings, the strokes slower, more technical again. But the silence between them was thick now, electric.

"Okay," she said at last, her voice slightly thinner than before. "You can go ahead and turn over, and I'll work on your chest and quads. Just keep the towel over your uh front. And take your time."

There was a tension in the air that hadn't been there before something warm and coiled and held too long in place.

Stefan rose up onto one elbow, shifting carefully as he turned over. The towel clung stubbornly for a second, then slipped a little too far down his hip. He caught it, adjusted quickly, tucking himself subtly to the side as he lay back. But it was no use. There was no hiding the clear ridge pressing against the towel now, straining slightly as his cock pulsed beneath the thin cotton.

He glanced up just in time to see Minja look down and then whip her gaze away, fast. But not before he caught it: the tiny hitch in her breath, the unmistakable blush that bloomed high across her cheekbones.

She turned away toward the oil without a word, pouring more into her palms. The quiet glug of the bottle and the slick sound of her rubbing her hands together filled the pause. Then she stepped closer and placed her hands gently on his chest.

"I'll just start here," she said, barely above a whisper. Her voice was calm, but her cheeks were still pink, and her eyes avoided his.

Her hands slid over his pecs in smooth, deliberate motions, tracing the lines of his muscle, thumbs working over the knots near his collarbones. Her fingers curved around his sides, drawing slow arcs that made his stomach tighten beneath her touch. She was still avoiding his face pretending, maybe, that nothing had changed but her breathing betrayed her. It was faster now. Less even.

Stefan's cock throbbed again, a sharp pulse that made the towel tent even higher. The edge slipped down another inch along his hipbone.

And Minja's hands paused just for a heartbeat before they went back to his shoulders.

*****

Minja's hands moved gently across Stefan's chest, gliding with practiced ease, her palms warm and slick with oil. She focused on the muscle groups beneath her fingers the firm rise of his pecs, the subtle tension near his clavicles, the familiar rhythms of therapeutic touch. Her thumbs pressed slow, deliberate circles under his collarbones, then swept outward toward his shoulders in smooth arcs.

She could feel the steadiness of his breath beneath her hands, the rise and fall syncing with her own focus. Her body knew this routine well muscle memory guiding her pressure and pace but her mind flickered restlessly, chasing thoughts she kept trying to bat away.

"Still holding tension here," she murmured, keeping her voice low and professional as her thumbs pressed deeper into the knots just below his clavicle. "Desk work?"

Stefan gave a soft, almost guilty laugh. "Yeah. Too many hours hunched over a laptop lately. Trying to meet a deadline. My shoulders hate me for it."

"That explains the tightness in your traps," she said, adjusting the angle of her pressure. "You need to stretch more often. Take microbreaks. Even a minute helps."

"Do you practice what you preach?" he asked, his voice tinged with amusement.

Minja smiled before she could stop herself. "Touché. Not always. But I do try."

A beat of quiet passed as her hands moved to his deltoids, kneading gently. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, but it threatened to slip into something too aware too charged. She needed to keep things light.

"So," she asked, brushing her fingers along the line where shoulder met bicep, "what do you do when you're not locked in battle with your inbox?"

"Programming," he replied, voice muffled slightly by the face cradle. "Mostly freelance. Custom apps, some testing work."

"Ah. So the deadlines are literally building related."

"Exactly," he chuckled. "Sometimes I think the houses are easier to deal with than the clients."

"I feel that," she said, laughing softly. "Bodies are easier than people."

His head shifted slightly. "Well, you make it look easy."

"Thank you," she said, her tone light but sincere. "Years of practice. And good posture habits. Which you, by the way, definitely don't have."

"Guilty as charged."

She let the conversation settle for a moment as she moved her hands lower, sweeping along his sternum in long, grounding strokes, giving his nervous system a moment to soften. She could feel the warmth of his skin, the steady thrum beneath it. Every now and then, his breath hitched tiny, involuntary responses to touch.

"How's your day been?" he asked suddenly, his voice quiet and unexpected.

That caught her off guard.

"It's been good," she replied after a beat. "A little back to back, but I like staying busy. It keeps me from overthinking everything."

He let out a sound that was almost a hum. "You're good at this. It feels... I don't know. More than just relaxing."

She paused briefly, grounding her energy, then continued her strokes with measured calm.

"That's the goal," she said. "To help your body feel safe enough to let go."

Professional. Be professional, she told herself. Breathe. Ground yourself. You're here to help him. You are not here to ogle his...

Her gaze flicked downward traitorous, instinctive before she could stop it.

The towel had slipped again. Not dramatically. Just enough to shift lower on one hip, enough that the once safe barrier now did absolutely nothing to hide what it was supposed to. The shape beneath it was unmistakable. The heavy curve pressing upward, angling slightly to the left, thick and barely restrained, outlined perfectly by the stretched cotton.

Minja's breath caught in her throat. Her fingers faltered for half a beat. She bit the inside of her cheek hard, trying to redirect the flush rushing to her cheeks.

Okay. Okay, it's fine. Just a normal massage. Clients get aroused sometimes it's natural. Physiological. Neutral. It doesn't mean anything.

Except this didn't feel like every other time.

Because Stefan was watching her.

His eyes weren't intense or predatory. There was no smirk, no teasing glint. Just a quiet, open awareness. He looked up at her with soft patience, like he was letting her decide how to proceed. Like he knew the effect he was having on her and was somehow more embarrassed about it than she was.

His lips parted slightly, like he wanted to say something. But nothing came out.

Minja's stomach fluttered. Her hands resumed moving, slower now, less automatic. She worked her way down over his obliques, each stroke an anchor against the growing storm inside her. Stefan exhaled, not quite a moan but not far from it a low, involuntary sound that vibrated under her palms. The heat in the room suddenly felt heavier, closer.

Her hands stopped just above the towel.

She froze.

The thin cotton clung to him in a way that made her brain fizz. His underwear underneath had lost the battle she could see the outline of the waistband where it had rolled slightly from the tension. Worse on the left side of his hip, where the towel had slipped further down, something was showing. Not fully. Just the head, flushed, peeking slightly from the curve of his boxers along his upper thigh.

Her eyes lingered a second too long. She caught herself and looked away fast too fast. Her fingers trembled.

Oh my god. What is wrong with you? You've seen hard dicks before. You've massaged plenty of clients through erections. This isn't new. This isn't

But it was new. Because this time, her panties were soaked. Her pulse was hammering in her ears. Her hands ached to slide lower, not because it was therapeutic but because she wanted to touch him.

She took a breath and placed her hands on his upper thighs, moving with careful control, her touch firmer now, trying to re establish some kind of boundary. But as she shifted, her pinky grazed something hot and thick and unmistakably real.

It pulsed.

Beneath the towel. Beneath the underwear. But still

Stefan didn't flinch.

He didn't say anything. Just looked up at the ceiling, like he'd left his body entirely.

Minja felt it like a lightning strike in her core tight, electric. Her throat went dry in an instant, her hand pulling back instinctively, the tips of her fingers still tingling.

"Oh, sorry " she said quickly, voice pitched too high, words tumbling out in a fluster. "I didn't I mean, sometimes the towel moves, I didn't mean to..."

She trailed off. Her hand hovered in the air uselessly, and for a second, neither of them breathed.

Then Stefan let out a weak, strangled chuckle. "It's... it's okay," he said, clearly trying to sound casual and failing miserably. "You're just... doing your job. I know it's... you know. Natural."

His voice cracked slightly on natural, and he winced.

Minja's blush deepened so much it burned. "Right," she said too fast. "Exactly. Totally normal. Happens all the time. Very... textbook."

She cleared her throat and tried to school her face, but her eyes flicked downward again, caught the slip of skin and the dusky, flushed tip pressing ever so slightly past the edge of his boxer leg. She almost dropped the oil.

Stop looking. Oh my god. Just say something. Act like you didn't just stare at the top of his cock like a pervert.

"I'll just uh adjust the towel a little," she said, voice high and brittle. She leaned over, hands shaking slightly, tugging the edge of the towel back up over his hip, though it resisted staying in place with the tent it now covered. She patted it in place like a band aid over a wildfire.

Stefan groaned softly, covering his face with one hand. "This is mortifying," he muttered. "I swear I'm not trying to "

"No, no," Minja said too fast, cutting him off. "Don't worry. It's... I mean, it's not unusual. I've definitely... dealt with this before."

Liar. Not like this. She thought.

He peeked at her through his fingers, his face flushed deep pink. "You sure?"

She hesitated just a second too long.

Then gave a weak smile. "Positive."

And Minja's hands paused briefly before sliding down toward his stomach.

"No I'm fine! Totally. I'm uh just going to work on your legs now."

Minja's voice cracked just slightly at the end, but she plastered on a professional smile as she shifted to the foot of the table and settled onto her stool. Her thighs pressed together instinctively as she reached out to lift one of Stefan's legs, gently positioning it across her lap. Her hands, slick with oil, moved to his calf with firm, practiced strokes, kneading the muscle with familiar rhythm.

But nothing about this felt familiar anymore.

Her focus was slipping unraveling with every breath. Her eyes, despite her best efforts, kept drifting up. Up his leg, over the hard lines of his thigh, to where the towel now barely draped his hips. Every time she moved his leg, the fabric shifted just a little more. And every time it did, her breath caught in her throat.

His cock was clearly straining beneath the towel now, no longer a subtle outline but a full, heavy presence pushing upward. The fabric tented high, like a pitched flag of surrender. Worse, she could see the way it grew, twitching slightly as her hands worked just inches away. The pulse of it. The life.

She bit the inside of her cheek again, pretending to be focused, but her breathing was shallow and uneven. Just don't look at it. Don't think about it. Don't stare

Too late.

She moved to his other leg, lifted it carefully. And that's when it happened.

The towel had already been slipping. But as she bent forward, her shoulder brushed the edge and it slid. First a little. Then all the way. It dropped soundlessly to the floor, leaving him fully exposed. And there, framed between her arms, between his thighs, his cock arched upward freed now from the thin stretch of his underwear, the waistband having lost its battle somewhere in the struggle. His thick shaft stood proud, flushed, and impossibly erect.

From this angle, Minja had a full view from below saw everything from base to swollen, glistening tip.

She froze. Her hands stalled against his thigh. Her mouth parted on a soundless inhale.

Oh my god.

Their eyes met.

It was the kind of moment that should have shattered the air with tension but instead it just... held. Suspended. Stefan's face flushed deep crimson. His lips twitched like he wanted to speak, but no words came.

Minja tried. She really did.

She opened her mouth, intending to say something professional, something calming, something to re establish control.

But instead:

"I just uh I mean... you're... wow. You're... not... um. That's really... a lot."

Her eyes drifted back down against her will.

Stefan's hand shot to his crotch, trying to cover himself, but it was a hopeless effort his fingers looked absurd trying to obscure something that large. The angle was wrong. The size was wrong. There was no hiding any of it.

"I I'm so sorry," he blurted. "It just happened. I didn't mean to I didn't want to make things weird."

"You didn't," Minja said too quickly. Then again, slower: "You didn't. Seriously. No worries."

The silence stretched. Awkward. Awful.

She couldn't stop staring.

And she couldn't stop thinking.

It's so big. Like, stupid big. No wonder the towel couldn't hold it. No wonder I felt it through his boxers. I thought I was imagining it

Her tongue felt dry. Her whole body ached.

Then, with a tiny, nervous laugh, she murmured, "Has anyone ever told you... I mean, has anyone ever said anything about your size before?"

Stefan blinked. "I mean... sometimes. I guess. I try not to let it be... a thing."

Minja bit her lip, looking down again before she could stop herself. "I just... I've never actually... seen someone this big. Not in real life."

He looked like he wanted to sink through the table. "That's uh thanks?"

"No, I mean I'm not saying that as a compliment. Wait no I am but I don't mean I'm being inappropriate I just "

She groaned softly and covered her face for a second. "God, I'm sorry. I'm really bad at... I mean, you're very attractive and I'm trying to be a professional and now I've seen your your very large and now I'm making it worse, aren't I?"

Stefan gave her a helpless look. "Only a little?"

They both laughed. It was small, awkward, but it cracked the air open between them just enough.

Then, after a breath, Minja looked down again. Her hands had nowhere to go.

Nowhere but back.

*****

She swallowed, hard.

Minja exhaled through her nose, steadying herself. Professional. Be professional.

She made a half hearted attempt to tuck him back inside the towel covering his hips. "Yeah, no point even trying," she mumbled, almost to herself. "You just... it keeps slipping out."

He gave a half laugh, clearly flustered. "Sorry. It's not... I'm not trying to "

"I know. It's fine," she said quickly. "It's just... easier if I lay it on your stomach. There."

She gently guided it upward, settling it against the flat of his abdomen. Her fingers lingered, just a beat too long. Minja had seen plenty during her sessions this wasn't a first. But something about him made her pause. The way it curved, thick and heavy. The way it moved in her hand, responsive. He was... impressive. Bigger than most she'd handled. And she had definitely handled a few.

"Okay," she breathed, blinking herself out of it. "Going to get more oil for your quads."

She turned, grateful for the excuse to move, and grabbed the lube bottle off the nearby shelf. But as she turned back, her eyes flicked just for a second toward his cock again.

And he saw her.

Their eyes met. She froze.

Then slip.

The bottle flew out of her hand like it had been greased itself, tumbling forward and smacking directly into his thigh with a soft thud. The cap popped open on impact, and a slick trail of lube spilled instantly across his stomach, over his cock, dripping down the side of his leg and onto the edge of the table.

"Oh my god shit " she gasped, reaching out instinctively. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to "

Stefan's face was flushed bright red. "It's uh it's okay! Happens. Accidents. I mean stuff's slippery."

"Yeah. It's very very slippery." She bent to pick up the bottle, but it twisted in her grip and slipped right out again, bouncing off the floor with a quiet thwup.

She sighed, flustered beyond words. "Never mind. I'll pick it up later. Let me just let me clean this mess. God, I'm so clumsy."

"It's seriously fine," Stefan said, though his voice sounded more like a hopeful plea for the moment to pass.

Minja grabbed another clean towel and began gently dabbing along his lower abdomen, wiping up the thin slick of oil spreading toward the edge of the table. She reached the side of his hip, then the crease of his inner thigh, leaning slightly to reach the underside of him.

"I just need to get under you here, sorry," she murmured, sliding the towel between his legs and letting it rest there to soak up what had pooled underneath. Her hands hesitated again. "And I, um... Is it okay if I hold your t-t-thing again? Just there's some on your stomach and I need to move it to clean the rest."

Stefan hesitated, blinked. "Uh... yeah. Okay."

She reached but then pulled her hand back. Then reached again. Her fingers hovered, curled in midair, then retreated. Her brow furrowed in a war between duty and decency, but her hand finally closed around him with gentle determination.

She lifted him slightly, wrapping her right hand around the base with as much professionalism as she could fake. Her left hand worked the towel along his stomach in slow, careful swipes.

And still, her grip lingered.

She felt the weight of him pulse in her hand. Thick, warm, alive.

Her fingers could barely close around him, the oil making everything feel exaggerated slicker, hotter. She kept her eyes on her task, kept her face neutral, but inside, her heart thudded against her ribs like it wanted out.

Stefan looked at her. Her jaw was tight, her movements precise, composed. But her cheeks were bright pink.

She moved her other hand lower, wiping a small line of lube that had trickled across his shaft. Her fingertips brushed along the underside accidentally. Reflexively.

He twitched again, growing harder.

"I need to um " she began, voice a soft murmur, " you know, get this lube off your... penis."

The last word barely made it out of her mouth.

Stefan couldn't speak just nodded once, sharply.

She tried. She really tried to clean him up. But the way the lube clung to him, the way her hand had to smooth it down, it only made it worse. Her strokes weren't even intentional at first just efficient. But his cock responded eagerly, stiffening between her fingers, and the longer she tried to undo the mess, the more it started to look like something else entirely.

Her face was burning. She was blushing red. Her hand didn't stop.

Professional. Be professional, she told herself. Breathe. Ground yourself. You're here to help him. You are not here to ogle his...

But her hand didn't let go.

Instead, she wrapped her fingers around it again. The oil made her grip glide, and the twitch beneath her palm was immediate.

Stefan groaned, low in his chest.

"Feels... really good."

Minja blinked.

She should've stopped. She knew it.

Instead, she whispered, "Yeah?"

He nodded, eyes darkening.

"Are you... uncomfortable?" she asked softly, voice barely a breath.

Stefan's eyes flicked to hers. He shook his head. "Not unless you are."

Minja hesitated. Her gaze dropped again to where he lay thick and hard against his abdomen, gleaming with oil and her fingerprints. She reached out slowly, her fingers brushing the shaft. Then curling around it again, more deliberately this time.

And she froze.

"God, you're so..." The words stuck halfway up her throat. She didn't finish the sentence. Couldn't.

She swallowed hard.

"I mean if this is too much," she said in a rush, "you just have to say. I'll stop. Right now. Just tell me."

His chest rose with a shaky breath. He didn't speak just gave a single, steady nod.

Keep going.

Her pulse thudded in her ears. She was shocked. Panicked. Excited. Curious. And fuck so horny. It hit her all at once, in her fingertips, her chest, the heat between her legs. The air in the room felt too thick to breathe.

She began again.

Slowly, reverently, she slid her hand up his cock, then back down. The glide was impossibly smooth, wet from oil and the clear slick of his arousal. Her other hand joined in, and she began to explore him touching like she was learning him in braille. Her palm smoothed over the underside, her fingers wrapped around the swollen base, her thumb tracing the thick vein that throbbed beneath the surface.

"This is... I mean, wow," she whispered, not even realizing she'd spoken aloud.

Stefan let out a sound half groan, half laugh.

"You're really good with your hands," he breathed. "Like... dangerously good."

She blushed but didn't stop. "Guess I am a professional, huh?"

Her voice shook with humor and disbelief. Because this wasn't what she was trained to do. This wasn't a routine. This was something else entirely.

And yet... it was a massage, wasn't it?

She molded his cock under her fingers, using the base of her palm to press along the thick ridges, letting the lube glide between her hands and his skin. She followed each vein, each twitch and pulse, as if she could map his pleasure like a charted muscle group. He gasped when she circled the head with both thumbs and then slid them down in tandem.

She was reaching pressure points inside herself now ones she didn't even know existed just from touching him.

"You're unreal," she murmured. "I've never... I've never had someone this big on my table before."

That wasn't an exaggeration. She was genuinely studying him now, curious and flushed and openly fascinated. Stroking him. Testing the way her hands could move tight or loose, firm or light. She watched how each change affected him. Watched how his body reacted. How his cock swelled even more under her touch.

She was wet now. Soaked. Her thighs pressed together without thinking.

And her curiosity slipped into a thought.

A flash.

What would it feel like inside?

The image burned her from the inside out.

She gave a shaky breath, bit her bottom lip and then leaned in closer. Her strokes slowed, became longer. More deliberate.

"You're so thick," she murmured, voice husky. "It's like... my hands aren't even enough. I can't believe this was under the towel the whole time..."

She leaned in, so close now she could feel the heat rolling off his skin. Her lips hovered just above his tip. Her breath kissed the head before her mouth did.

Her eyes flicked up.

"You sure?"

"Yes," Stefan said, hoarse. "Please."

She didn't speak again.

She just smiled flushed, breathless and then, slowly, reverently...

She bent forward

and kissed the tip.

*****

Minja's lips hovered just above the swollen head of Stefan's cock, the breath in her throat caught like she was standing at the edge of a cliff, waiting for gravity to claim her.

She could feel the heat of him, radiating up in waves, pulsing softly in the scant space between her mouth and his skin. A thick bead of precum welled at the tip slow, heavy glistening like syrup, and Minja's breath trembled with the effort it took not to just dive in and taste it.

Her eyes flicked up.

Stefan watched her with parted lips, his expression open, uncertain, caught somewhere between disbelief and need.

She flicked her tongue out just the very tip.

It touched him.

One taste.

The precum hit her tongue like some forbidden heat salty, musky, masculine. Her thighs clenched instinctively as she closed her lips around a shaky inhale.

Oh my god. Why does that turn me on so much?

She leaned in again, this time slower, licked from the underside of his tip to the ridge in one deliberate, reverent stroke. His shaft jumped in her hand.

Then unable to stop herself she parted her lips and slid the crown into her mouth.

Stefan let out a low, desperate groan.

Minja's eyes fluttered closed as she suckled gently, like she was testing him, weighing him, feeling out the resistance of her own mouth against the girth of him. Her hands stayed wrapped around the base because they had to. There was no other way to manage it. The thickness made her jaw stretch wide, her lips parting around the crown like it was never meant to fit.

Already, she could feel her spit mixing with his precum, turning everything slick and wet. Her hand glided slowly over the base, careful and smooth, while her mouth worked just the head, teasing, savoring.

He was big. Too big. She hadn't even taken more than an inch and already her lips tingled with the stretch. Her jaw ached. And yet

She wanted more.

Minja peeked up at him through her lashes her cheeks flushed, her lashes wet, lips stretched obscene around him and she moved deeper, taking another inch with a slow, deliberate glide.

"Ffffffuck..." Stefan exhaled, his hips tensing but holding still, like he was trying not to ruin it by thrusting.

That sound. That sound broken, helpless, grateful made her chest clench in something warm and primal. She was doing that to him. She was making him lose control.

And it only made her want to take him deeper.

Her tongue curled under the shaft as she pushed again, sliding slowly, carefully

Then gagged.

Her throat seized. Her eyes watered. She pulled back fast with a wet, slick gluck, saliva coating his cock and dripping down her chin.

"Shit sorry," she gasped, wiping her mouth with the back of her wrist, blinking as her breath hitched. A thread of spit clung from his tip to her bottom lip.

"No Jesus, Minja," Stefan said, voice thick and ragged. "Don't apologize. That was fuck."

She glanced down.

His cock was even harder now, somehow. Glossy with spit. Her own saliva and his precum mingled along the shaft, catching the light. Veins thick along the sides, twitching under her touch. Her fingers, slick and trembling, tightened around him again.

"It's... too big," she murmured, not even sure if she meant to say it out loud.

"You want to stop?" he asked, breathless, his brow pinched in concern.

Minja shook her head immediately. Her ponytail swished behind her.

"No. I just... need a better angle," she said, cheeks burning, voice soft and shaky with want.

Her gaze flicked down again, jaw tilted. She leaned in again, nuzzling his shaft against her cheek this time, just to feel it, just to compare. His cock dwarfed her face. The length curved from her mouth down past her wrist. She rubbed the head against her lips playfully, breathing heavily, her thighs pressed tight together beneath her.

"How... how do girls even handle this?" she whispered.

Stefan chuckled, low and warm. "Some don't. Some try." He tilted his head, voice turning teasing. "But there's one way to find out. You know... if you're curious."

Minja looked up sharply, eyes wide. His expression was somewhere between flirty and fascinated, waiting for her next move.

"Don't tempt me," she said with a weak laugh, but her voice was wrecked thick with arousal, breathy and barely holding it together. Her lips were already kissing the side of his shaft again.

"Not trying to," Stefan murmured. "You're kind of doing that all on your own."

Her cheeks flushed red. Her eyes dropped again to the impossible length in her hands.

"This should be illegal," she muttered. "Like... this shouldn't exist."

He smirked, but said nothing.

Minja's hands started stroking again slow, twisting, slick her thumbs massaging the sensitive underside as her tongue circled the tip. Her spit glistened everywhere now, strings of it trailing from her lips to the head as she kissed it again. Her lipstick, already faint, had smeared into a pinkish hue. Her face was glowing with lust flushed, focused, every motion deliberate and hungry.

She kissed lower, licked up from his base, mouthed along a thick vein while her fingers still worked him. His hips twitched again, but she didn't flinch.

She owned the moment now.

"Still uncomfortable?" she asked, smiling up at him, pupils wide, lips slick.

He shook his head slowly. "Nope. Not even close."

Minja bit her lip and leaned back in. Her mouth opened once more.

She wanted it again.

She wanted him again.

And this time, she didn't hesitate.

She slid onto the table, lying between his legs now, propped on one elbow, her small breasts pressed into his thigh. She wrapped both hands around the middle of his shaft and angled it toward her mouth.

"I've never..." she whispered, then smiled weakly. "... tackled something like this."

She opened her mouth again, wider this time, stretching her lips to the limit as she leaned in determined not to stop this time. Her breath shuddered against the flushed head of his cock, and slowly, carefully, she pushed down.

Inch by inch.

Her tongue flattened under the weight of him, her jaw trembled as the swollen crown passed her lips again. He filled her mouth immediately, stretching it tight, almost too tight, but Minja kept going. Her lips sealed around him, cheeks puffing slightly as she took more.

He groaned. "Minja..."

That one sound just her name, half broken made her whimper around his cock. The vibration from her throat drew another twitch from his shaft, and her hands reflexively squeezed the base in sync.

She began a slow, bobbing rhythm, moving her head up and down with care. Each descent brought another lewd gluck from her throat, spit gathering quickly and slipping from the corners of her mouth. She sucked firmly as she rose, then dragged her tongue along the underside on the way down, swirling gently when she reached the crown.

Her hands weren't idle one hand worked the base, slick and steady, twisting with each stroke. But after a moment, she adjusted. Stacked her hands one over the other, trying to grip him fully. Even with both hands, there was still a stretch of shaft exposed between her fingertips and her lips.

She pulled back just long enough to stare at it.

"You're still not all covered," she whispered, her voice breathless with awe.

Stefan looked down at her, his cheeks flushed, lips parted in a dazed grin. "You saying that like it's a problem."

She giggled softly, face flushed. "It kinda is. I'm trying here."

"You like trying," he teased, voice ragged.

Her eyes widened. "I do not "

He raised an eyebrow, cock twitching in her grip.

Minja flushed deeper, biting her lip. "Okay. Maybe I do."

She looked back down and, without another word, opened her mouth and lowered it again this time with a goal. Her lips stretched over the head, hands stroking in perfect rhythm, mouth and fingers moving together, synced like a slow dance.

Her jaw ached, her cheeks burned, but the sound of his breathing, the little gasps and groans he let out, kept her going.

Her spit was everywhere now slicking his shaft, dripping down onto her own wrists, gluing her hair to her neck. Her hands glided faster, more confident, but they started to tire. Her wrists burned. Her fingers ached from the pressure of squeezing him.

So she shifted again.

Let her hands fall away.

And used only her mouth.

She pushed down again, her lips wrapping tightly, tongue swirling under the head, throat trying to adjust to the pressure. She bobbed slowly, then faster, building rhythm again, her breath choppy through her nose.

Stefan's thighs began to tense beneath her. His hips twitched. His hand fisted the towel beneath him.

"Fuck," he whispered. "That feels so good, Minja."

Her eyes flicked up wild, glassy, tear brimmed and she moaned softly around him, her own thighs rubbing together beneath the table.

She could feel it now that mounting pressure. His cock was pulsing harder, his breath becoming erratic. Every twitch in his shaft echoed through her mouth.

Then there.

She felt the shift.

The sudden surge. The tight coil snapping inside him.

He gasped. "Minja I'm gonna fuck, I'm gonna "

Her hands flew back to his shaft instinctively, trying to help, but he beat her to it one hand wrapping around the base as he groaned loudly and arched slightly off the table.

He held it. Aimed.

And exploded.

The first blast of cum filled her mouth instantly hot, thick, salty. She barely had time to swallow before the next shot followed, flooding her tongue and cheeks. She gagged slightly, moaning into him, refusing to pull away as more spilled across her tongue.

Her mouth couldn't keep up. It poured from her lips, spilled down her chin and onto her collarbone. Still, she didn't stop. Her lips stayed sealed as best they could, her hands now back to stroking whatever she couldn't hold in her mouth.

Another shot. Then another.

It poured out of him relentless, hot, raw. Her fingers milked every last throb from him, guiding him through it, her cheeks hollowing as she finally sucked him clean.

When she finally pulled off, coughing slightly, she was a mess spit and cum dripping from her lips, her chin, her throat. She wiped at it with the towel but it was already soaked. Her mouth hung open as she licked the last traces from her lips, eyes dazed.

"Holy shit," she whispered. "You came... so MUCH."

Stefan lay back, chest heaving. "I told you... I needed therapy."

Minja laughed weakly, wiping her neck, her voice dazed. "I think I need therapy now."

She leaned forward, resting her cheek gently against his stomach, letting his softening cock press against her jaw. She closed her eyes, fingers curled lightly around the base.

"That was... so hot," she added softly, her voice distant with awe.

"Yeah?" he asked, brushing her hair back with shaking fingers.

Minja didn't move.

"I'm sleeping here tonight," she murmured.

*****

The room had gone quiet except for the hum of the diffuser and the soft, damp sound of Minja's breathing against Stefan's belly.

She still lay there, half draped across his body, arms loosely hugging his waist like a satisfied cat. His cock had finally begun to soften, resting lazily against her cheek, shiny with spit and streaks of cum.

Minja let out a long, breathy sigh.

"So," she mumbled, "I don't usually do that as part of a session..."

Stefan chuckled, still catching his breath. "Really? Because I was about to ask if it's covered under the Lila referral discount."

Minja snorted, turning her head away in embarrassment. "Don't say that! Oh my god. I'll never be able to look her in the eye again..."

"Your secret's safe with me." He reached down and gently brushed a strand of hair from her flushed face.

She sat up slowly, cheeks still pink but a contented smile playing at her lips. "Okay," she said, business voice kicking back in, "if you can still move, I should probably finish the actual reason you came here. Remember that whole thing about your hip flexor?"

"Right. That old thing." He grinned, and she gave his thigh a light slap.

"Lie on your side," she said, regaining her therapist tone, but still visibly glowing.

Stefan rolled onto his side with a soft groan, propping himself on one elbow. Minja retrieved a clean towel, wiping off what was left of the mess first from him, then from herself. Her hands moved delicately, almost reverently, cleaning the sticky remnants of her earlier enthusiasm.

She folded the towel into a small square, set it aside, and straddled the side of the table, pressing her hands gently into Stefan's hip.

He winced a little.

"There," she said softly. "That's the tension I was talking about. Deep inside the iliopsoas. It gets neglected a lot, especially if you're sitting too much."

"I've definitely been sitting too much," he muttered. "Though lying down's been pretty eventful, too."

Minja smiled but kept her eyes on her hands.

"I, uh... I know that was... really unprofessional," she said suddenly.

Stefan turned to look at her.

"Was it?"

She hesitated.

"I mean... yes. Technically. Definitely. But also... no? I don't know. I wasn't planning on that happening. I really was just trying to help."

"You did help. In multiple ways," he said, letting a beat pass. "Do you always give happy endings when someone has hip tightness?"

Minja's eyes widened, and she gave a startled laugh. "God, no! This is this is definitely a first."

She paused, then added quickly, "Not that I regret it. I just mean... I usually keep things very... clinical. You sort of short circuited that part of my brain."

Stefan gave a mock thoughtful nod. "So you're saying I'm a corrupting influence?"

"Absolutely. 100%," she said, now working her thumb deeper into his side. "You should be ashamed."

He hissed as she hit a tight spot.

"Jesus. That one hurts."

"Yeah," she said. "That's where your psoas wraps around to your spine. It's deeper than most people realize. This part actually is therapy. Sorry in advance."

She dug in, and Stefan groaned a real one this time.

Minja kept her hands firm but gentle. Her touch was more focused again, and for a moment, they both fell into silence. The heat was still there between them, but it had shifted warmer, less frantic. Something about the way she touched him now felt intimate in a quieter way.

Eventually, she leaned back.

"There," she said. "You might be sore tomorrow, but it'll feel looser. You should stretch more. And hydrate."

"I think I lost most of my hydration a few minutes ago," Stefan muttered.

She slapped his side lightly again.

"Alright, perv. You're all done."

He laughed, swinging his legs off the table and sitting up. She offered him another towel, and he cleaned up the last of the oil before slipping back into his clothes.

Minja turned away politely while he dressed, still sitting on her stool, her legs tucked under her.

"So," he said, adjusting his waistband, "do I, like... book that kind of session through the same online calendar?"

She turned her head sharply, eyebrows raised.

He smirked.

"Joking. Mostly."

"Yeah, well," she muttered, cheeks flushed again, "maybe just... text me next time."

There was a pause. He moved toward the door, then looked back.

"You were amazing, by the way."

She gave him a shy smile. "You weren't so bad yourself."

Another pause.

Then he winked. "I'll be back soon. That hip's probably going to need some regular... deep tissue attention."

Minja bit her lip, watching him go.

As the door closed, she leaned her head back and exhaled long and hard, the echo of slick skin and flushed cheeks still dancing in her thoughts.

What the hell just happened?

Whatever it was, it had just made a massage table feel like the start of something very interesting.