Page 6 of All I Wank for Christmas

But she’s touching me like I’ve never been touched before. She knows moves I’ve never tried on myself.

She jerks my dick but moves her free hand to my balls, where she cups them perfectly like she’s holding a baby bird that’s fallen from the nest. Firm to hold them. Gentle to not crush them.

When she gives them a soft squeeze and moves her middle finger to the piece of skin just above my asshole, I lose all sense of composure. There is no chivalry. There is no pretending this isn’t glorious. I clench my ass as I rise off the table. I bite my lip until I taste the metallic tang of blood.

This woman is a goddess. She’s a holy disciple of hand jobs sent straight from heaven.

She rubs my taint spot in a clockwise motion with her firm middle finger while pressing her warm palm against my balls, moving them with a slow clockwise motion. Bending down, she drools on my cock again, and the combined feel of the wet spit, the ball fluff, and the dick tug sets my body on fire.

My toes curl. My toned legs shake. I temporarily forget who I am and the stress that caused me to stop here before the night’s run. There’s no thought in my head but how her hands feel on my entire manhood region.

I’m utterly fucked.

I’m clay to be molded in her hands.

I’m definitely coming back every chance I get and getting a gift card for myself so I have something tangible to pull out of my wallet and hold while I think of her.

My mouth opens in a silent moan, and I’m pretty sure my eyes roll back in my head. Reaching out, I feel for her. Anything. Hair. Cheek. Clavicle. Big toe. I reach for anything she’ll let me touch. Her hand comes off my dick for a split second as she presses her breast into my hand. I force my eyes open and see her pink nipple exposed and pulled out of her shirt.

“You can touch me, Jasper. I miss being touched by someone too.”

I palm her breast as she works me over, and I curl up a little like I’m doing a sit-up, intent on watching her work me. My eyes flutter, but I force them open. I need to see the breast I’m holding. I can feel her nipple hardening in my palm, but I want to commit it to memory. Ineedto watch her nipple tighten and harden when I flick it. I want to watch her slide her hand up and down my cock.

This hand job is a Christmas miracle the likes of which haven’t been seen by humanity since a star guided shepherds and a boy played a drum for some barn animals.

I swipe her shirt aside and hold a crunch like I haven’t had to do since eighth-grade gym class. She gasps when I palm both breasts, massaging and pinching her nipples as I buck into her hand without shame. Her gorgeous, almond-shaped eyes find my own, and we stare at each other while I pump into her hand like a deranged maniac. I watch her long lashes as she blinks as if in slow motion. Rays of sunlight surround her head.

I know I’m imagining the halo since we’re in a windowless room, but someone should build a shrine to this woman’s palm.

The moan comes out of my mouth before the cum sprays into her cupped hand above my dick. She knows exactly when to move the hand from my balls, and she knows to keep jerking my dick until every drop is drained from my body. Most men never have the patience to teach a woman to do it this way. They sure can’t articulate it when someone’s touching them.

I shake. I may curse a little, but I can’t be sure what I’m saying. If I only knew her name.

Ihaveto know her name. If nothing else, I need to know what name I’m going to moan when I jerk myself off for the next five years.

“There we go. All stress gone,” she coos. “Feel better?”

“Am I dead? Is this heaven?”

She laughs and pulls her gloves off. She hands me a paper towel, and I look around for what she wants me to wipe. I’m not wet. I even look at my softening dick to see if drops dribbled around my manscaped bush. Nothing.

She waves in the direction of my knees, and I take the hint, pulling up my pants. I wiggle my legs to make the muscles work so I can swing my legs off the table.

Wait. Should I get her off? I’m sure most of her clients don’t touch her clit, but I want to make her shatter around me. My mouth waters for her. Should I offer? Gesture for her to pull her panties down her beautiful legs? Damn, I’d eat her pussy until she cried. I want to run my stubble up her thighs and know what kind of noise she makes whenshecomes.

“Thanks for brightening my day, Jasper.”

I startle a little and shake my head. Why is she thankingme? “I think that was the other way around.”

“You were different. I don’t say this to every client, but I enjoyed making you happy. Did you get a punch card when you came in?”

I frown. “There’s a punch card? You have punch cards for hand jobs?”

“Of course. Ten regular price jerk offs, and the eleventh one is free. Not including tip, that is. Most places like this have them.” We stare at each other in silence. “For the truckers.”

“Ah! Yes, the truckers,” I say, standing up and patting my pants pockets.

Wallet. Keys. There’s nothing to do but leave. She’s holding a bottle of cleaner to spray down the table and getting a new, white sheet out of the cabinet below the sink. I feel like I’m at a restaurant and the waitress is rushing me out to turn over the table.

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