You smile as you open the door and see this handsome man with a sheepish grin, who's dropped what he was doing and come at your call -- well, text -- to give you pleasure in whatever way you desire with no expectation or even hope of reciprocation. He's brought you coffee just the way you like it, which you take from him and sip. It fascinates you and turns you on to see what your beautiful younger body does to him, the way it hypnotizes him and renders him awkward, this man who in life is so successful, intelligent, commanding, and strong. You've deliberately worn revealing clothes in order to draw his attention to what he wants so desperately to possess, but which instead possesses him. You notice his erection pressing against his pants, where it will remain. What is it about the power you hold over him that excites you? Impossible to say, but why question it when it's so much more satisfying to explore it. You move to the bed and lie face down, and as he's done before, he takes his position and begins your massage. It feels so good as you relax into it. You wonder whether you will allow him to do more, to pleasure you with his hands or mouth, or just have him leave after the massage is done. You'll decide later. For now, you just close your eyes and enjoy his service, this man who serves your beauty for nothing but the privilege of service. Why would you not when it feels so good?
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