Page 8 of The Panther’s Edge

“I know,” he nodded. “If at any point you are uncomfortable, we will stop.” He paused for a moment, letting his words sink in. “May I continue?”

I took another deep breath and summoned up all my courage. “Y-Yeah. Okay.”

His hands moved to my ass then, and I felt the warm oil being spread across my skin. His touch was professional but not impersonal. There was intention in every stroke, every press of his palms. He worked the muscles methodically, finding knots I didn’t even know I had, working them out with a combination of pressure and massage that made me gasp.

When his fingers dipped between my cheeks, I tensed instinctively, but he didn’t push. He just kept working, his thumbs pressing into the muscles on either side, releasing tension I’d been carrying for who knows how long. After a few minutes of that, I felt myself relax into it, my breathing evening out.

“You’re doing well,” he murmured. “Just let yourself enjoy it.”

His hands continued their work, and then I felt something shift. One of his fingers, slick with oil, pressed gently against my hole. I froze, my breath catching, but he didn’t move. He just held it there, letting me get used to the sensation.

“This okay?” he asked softly.

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

He pressed slowly, carefully, and I felt him slip inside. The sensation was strange and overwhelming all at once. It wasn’t painful, but intimate in a way I wasn’t prepared for. Usually men opened me up without ceremony and got to fucking. But Ravi wasn’t forcing anything or rushing. He moved slowly, giving me time to adjust, while his other hand continued to massage the muscles around my ass.

“Breathe,” he reminded me. “You’re tensing again.”

I forced myself to relax, to let my body accept him. As I did, the tension began to shift into something else entirely, like pleasure. His finger pressed deeper, and I bit down on the cushion beneath my face to keep from making noise.

“There,” he said, and I realized he’d found something inside me, my prostate, I assumed. He pressed against it and a bolt of pleasure shot through me so intense I gasped aloud.

“That’s it,” he whispered. “Feel good?”

I nodded, unable to speak.

He worked his finger against that spot with incredible precision, and my hips began to move of their own accord, pressing back against his hand. My cock, which had been hard the entire time, began to leak against the table. The pleasure built and built, winding tighter and tighter in my core, and I could feel myself getting close to the edge.

Then Ravi withdrew his finger completely.

I made an embarrassing sound of protest, my hips still moving, searching for contact that was no longer there. My whole body was trembling, so close to orgasm that I could taste it, and then it was gone.

“Not yet,” Ravi said, his voice gentle but firm.

He cleaned his hands and then returned to the massage, his touch shifting back to the professional. I lay there, breathing hard, my cock still painfully hard against the table, as he continued to work on my lower back and legs like he hadn’t just brought me to the edge of the most intense orgasm of my life and then pulled back.

It was torture. It was perfect. It was exactly what I needed, even though I didn’t understand why.

After several more minutes of this, Ravi spoke again.

“Turn over for me, please.”

I hesitated, aware that turning over would fully expose my very obvious arousal. But there was something in his tone that allowed no argument. So I carefully rolled myself onto my back, my cock springing up the moment it was free from the table. I felt my face flush with embarrassment, but Ravi didn’t even glance down. He just moved to the head of the table and continued the massage as if nothing had happened.

His hands worked across my chest, my shoulders, my arms. He paid careful attention to my pecs, working deep into the muscle, and I found myself hyperaware of every point of contact. When he reached my abs, his fingers pressed firmly, finding tension even there, even in places I hadn’t realized I was holding stress.

The whole time, my cock stood at attention between us, leaking steadily onto my stomach. I wanted to cover it, to apologize for it, but Ravi’s presence didn’t invite that kind of self-consciousness. He was focused entirely on the work. However, I stole a glance or two while he worked and noticed that I wasn’t the only one that was hard. Clearly he was enjoying himself too.

This might’ve been the most erotic thing I’d ever done.

When he finally reached my thighs, his hands lingered there, working the muscles with the same careful attention he’d given everywhere else. But this time, when his fingers dipped inward, they didn’t stop at massage. His palm wrapped around my cock, and I sucked in a sharp breath.

“Still okay?” he asked, though his hand didn’t move, just held me firmly.

“Yeah,” I managed, my voice rough. “Yeah, that’s… that’s good.”

He began to stroke me slowly, his grip confident and sure. The oil made everything slick and easy, and I could feel every detail of his hand as it moved along my shaft. My hips wanted to thrust up into his grip, but I forced myself to stay still, to let him set the pace.