Emily's presence seemed to swirl around him as he lay there, muscles tingling from her skilful touch. The sound of her approach was a subtle melody in the background, and then her voice broke through the serenity. "Are you still doing okay?" Her words were gentle, carrying concern for his comfort.
John's response was a contented murmur, his voice tinged with relaxation as he affirmed that all was well. Emily's professionalism was evident as she guided him with clear instructions. "Whenever you're ready, please sit up straight."
He took a few moments to ensure his cock had calmed, then turned around, using one arm to support himself as he sat up. The towel he clung to for modesty made Emily's lips curve into a knowing smile. With practiced grace, she assisted him, ensuring the towel maintained its protective cover.
As he glanced back, John observed Emily at the massage table. He appreciated anew how cute she was, and her focus was completely on her task. He watched curiously as she switched the headrest, exchanging the one with the hole for a solid replacement.
With a kind tone, Emily asked him to lie down once more. He complied, stretching out on his back as she adjusted the towel to appropriately cover him. He was conscious of her gaze, aware that she could probably discern the contours of his now-flaccid penis beneath the fabric. A fleeting sense of self-consciousness brushed against him, only to be quelled by the realisation that Emily was undoubtedly accustomed to such sights.
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