I hear the sound of more oil being dispensed, and then Riley’s hands are on my ass, kneading the muscles with firm pressure. My breath hitches.
“People hold a tremendous amount of stress in the glutes,” Riley says, his voice slightly husky. “These muscles need to relax to allow proper movement in the hips and lower back, which in turn affects your shoulder.”
It sounds reasonable when he explains it that way, but there’s nothing reasonable about the way my body is responding. Each press of his fingers sends electricity straight to my groin. I fight the urge to grind against the mattress, to seek more friction for my aching cock trapped beneath me.
Riley’s thumbs press deeper, working the muscle in slow circles that gradually move inward. The tip of his thumb grazes the crease of my ass, and I shudder.
“Did you give any thought to trying prostate massage?” Riley asks softly.
I grunt something unintelligible, unable to form actual words.
“I think it would help,” he continues. “We can stop anytime you want.”
I swallow hard. “Okay.”
The word hangs in the air between us, changing everything. There’s a pause, then the sound of a cap opening. Not the massage oil this time, but something else. Lube. The realization makes my cock pulse against the mattress.
Riley’s hands return to my ass, massaging the muscles there, but now his thumbs dip deeper into the crease, sliding through it with purpose. I tense despite myself, unused to being touchedthere. He does it again and again, each pass bringing his thumbs closer to my entrance until one finally brushes over it.
I try not to react, but a shudder runs through me, impossible to hide. Riley doesn’t comment, just continues, his touch becoming more focused on that sensitive ring of muscle. Each time his thumb passes over it, I relax a little more, my body growing accustomed to the foreign sensation.
Finally, his thumb is replaced by a single slick finger, circling my entrance with gentle pressure.
“Let me in, Jacob,” Riley murmurs. “Relax for me.”
I take a deep breath and concentrate on releasing the tension in my muscles. Riley’s finger breaches me slowly, just to the first knuckle. It feels strange, invasive, but not unpleasant. His other hand continues massaging my left cheek, helping me stay relaxed.
“That’s it,” he praises. “You’re doing well.”
The approval in his voice washes over me like warm water. His finger slides deeper, past the second knuckle, and I grunt at the unfamiliar fullness. He works it in and out, his movements slow and careful, giving me time to adjust. Then he crooks his finger slightly, and—
“Holy fuck!” The curse explodes from me as pleasure rockets through my body, sudden and intense.
Riley does it again, pressing against that spot inside me that makes stars explode behind my eyes.
I whimper into the mattress as he continues to work my prostate, each press sending jolts of electricity through my cock. I’m grinding shamelessly into the bed now, seeking friction, seeking release.
“How does it feel?” Riley asks, though he must know the answer from the sounds I’m making.
“So good,” I gasp, beyond caring how I sound. “Why does it feel so fucking good?”
“Because you’re letting go,” Riley says, his voice a low rumble near my ear. I hadn’t realized how close he was leaning, but I can feel his breath on my neck now. “Can I add another finger?”
“Yes,” I groan, lifting my hips slightly. “Please.”
There’s a moment of pressure as he adds more lube, then the stretch as a second finger joins the first. Riley guides my left leg up, bending it at the knee, opening me wider to his touch. I let him position me, beyond shame now, consumed by sensation.
“You’re doing great, Jacob,” Riley murmurs, his clinical detachment slipping. “Opening so good for me.”
His praise makes something twist in my chest, a feeling I can’t name. His fingers work deeper, stretching and filling me, returning again and again to that spot that makes me see stars. I’m trembling now, my entire body wound tight with approaching release.
“I’m going to come,” I warn, my voice breaking. “Riley, fuck, I’m going to come.”
“Let go,” he commands. “Let it happen.”
His fingers press hard against my prostate, and I’m lost. My orgasm rips through me like a tidal wave, the pleasure so intense it borders on pain. Riley’s name tears from my throat as I spill onto the sheets beneath me.
“Fuck, Jacob,” Riley groans.