Originally we had only arranged to go out for a massage, but before the session even started, the two of us had already begun playing PS games.
The vibration from the controller wasn't as seductive as the warmth when he came close; each match made my heart race more than the massage did.

I pretended to focus on the screen, but my peripheral vision had long since drifted uncontrollably to his long legs.
Loose shorts, his legs slightly apart...
God knows if I was seeing things—but the faint outline visible through the crotch seam made my breathing go off rhythm in an instant.

The fact that he wasn't wearing underwear was more irresistible than any deep relaxation.
It turned out some “healing” doesn't need hands at all.