CHAPTER FOUR: Devin
I still remembered that night as if it had happened yesterday rather than a decade ago. I could close my eyes and smell the sweet oil. I could feel the touch of Genevieve’s soft skin beneath my hands. I could remember her soft sighs as I massaged her back and legs. I could remember the exact moment my fingers slid inside her and found her G-spot and massaged it gently until she arched her back and sucked in a deep breath and gushed her hot juices all over my hand and arm with the force of firehose.
It was literally like trying to plug a hole in a dam with my finger as hot water burst through.
It started like most massages I’d given, then quickly became something else entirely. There was no clock, no rush, no getting past the formality of the massage so we could get to the sex. The massage was the sex, though I didn’t realize it at the time.
Genevieve rolled over onto her stomach and told me to begin at her feet and work my way to her neck, going slowly, rhythmically, covering every inch of her, gently massaging the muscles, slow circles and pressed fingers.
I did exactly as I was instructed to do. I started at the bottom of her feet, her heels, her ankles, working my way slowly up each calf to the backs of the thighs, to the round muscles of her ass, to the small of her back, up her ribcage to her shoulder blades, to the shoulders and back of the neck, then outward to her arms and finally to her fingertips. I had no concept of time, no idea how long it had taken my hands to make the journey from her feet to fingertips. It could have been minutes or hours. I simply remembered my breathing and the feeling of every inch of her warm body beneath my hands.
Genevieve rolled over and told me to continue, again starting at her feet, slowly making my way up her legs, avoiding any contact with her pussy, then massaging the tight muscles in her stomach, around the outsides of her breasts to get to her front shoulders, arms and hands.
“Now…” she whispered… “my breasts… my nipples…”
Even though I had not touched her private parts, Genevieve’s breathing was heavy, as if she were in the throes of foreplay. When I oiled my hands and put them to her breasts, the breath shivered from her lungs and her body gave a little shudder. I could suddenly smell her juices, the salty scent that I knew so well wafting from her pussy.
Her nipples hardened at my touch. They were like hard, strawberry thimbles beneath my thumbs. I squeezed them gently between my fingers as I massaged her globes. She moaned deeply, her head back, eyes closed, mouth open just enough to breathe.
“Now…” she sighed. “My clit…”
I slid my hands down to her shaved cunt without breaking contact with her body. I massaged her mound for a moment, teasing her a little. When my fingers rolled over her clit I felt it swell beneath my touch, like a little cock getting suddenly hard.
Genevieve sighed again. She brought her hands up to her breasts and started squeezing them, much harder than I had. She took her nipples between her thumbs and forefingers and tugged them away from her breasts. I watched her for a moment with a satisfied smile, then focused on her clit. I massaged it with oil until it glistened, then pulled the hood back between two fingers to expose the little nub that was hiding there. When my fingers touched the swollen bulb, Genevieve’s body momentarily tensed, then relaxed as she blew out a long, slow breath.
“Now…” she said, almost too quietly to hear, “Slide your middle finger inside me to the first knuckle… yes… there… now… put your thumb on my clit… gently… yes… now… put your other hand on my mound… press down with your fingertips… yes… there… now… cup your finger inside me… curve it upward... find my G-spot… ooh… that’s it… now… massage it… slowly… little circles… yes… like that… yes… oh… god… yes… yesssss…”
Genevieve came in waves. Her body tensed, her ass arched off the bed, I felt the hot juices flowing over my fingers and hand, then she began to squirt—literally squirt—gushing hot juice from deep within her, coating my wrist and arm and the bed beneath her. I sighed as she came, satisfied that I had given her the greatest gift I had to offer. At that moment, my only desire was to make Genevieve happy. For the first time in my life I had given a woman an orgasm without a single thought to myself.
And the most amazing thing was that after I started massaging her body, following her instructions to the letter, my cock seemed to drift off into its own little happy world. Not once did I get hard, even when my fingers were inside her and she was cumming against my hand.
She didn’t reach for my cock or tell me to whip it out or beg me to fuck her as other women had. No, Genevieve was not interested in my cock. She was not even interested in having sex, at least not in the traditional sense. It wasn’t about being fingerfucked by a guy or even getting a two-hour massage that involved every inch of her body. It was about cleansing her soul of negative emotions… rejuvenating her chi… realigning her spirit…
I know, it sounds like mumbo-jumbo horse shit when I say it, but coming from Genevieve’s lips at that moment, it sounded like gospel. It still does when she says it to me today, although there are times now when I have serious doubts that I am really The One.
When Genevieve walked me to the door afterward, she stood on her tiptoes to give me a sweet kiss on the cheek goodbye. She trailed a long fingernail down the line of my jaw and said, “You are the one. I’ll see you again.”
When I walked outside I was shocked to find the sun coming up over the horizon. I glanced at my watch. I had arrived at Genevieve’s suite just after midnight. It was now six A.M. Almost six hours had passed. I had the odd feeling that I had been in a room where time stood still. Being with Genevieve made me feel that way, like the earth had graciously stopped revolving to allow us our precious time together. It still feels that way during the rare moments we get to spend time together now.
I remembered standing in the employee parking lot as the sun warmed my face, the morning breeze tussled my hair, looking at my hands with awe, flexing my fingers. If the massage had indeed lasted for hours my hands should have been red and cramped, but the skin was pink and supple. I wiggled my fingers without the first hint of pain.
Odder still was the fact that even though I had not had an orgasm—hadn’t even thought about having one—I had experienced something deeply sexual that touched me to my very core and left me just as warm and satisfied. Genevieve told me later it was because I had found my true calling and it did not involve giving sexual satisfaction for money. By the time I arrived home that morning I knew what I wanted to do with my life. I would accept Genevieve’s offer to mentor me, to teach me, to prepare me to become a true Yoni Master. She said I was The One. It was my destiny, my fate, my karma. To deny it would be a lie that would have disastrous results.
Ordinarily, I was a guy who didn’t believe in such things, but when she looked me in the eye and touched my cheek and said, “You are the one”, there was not a doubt in my mind that she was right.
I was The One.
* * *
As luck and irony would have it, I had a raging erection by the time I got home. It was nearly seven and Ben was still passed out in his room. I snuck in without him hearing me, ran a hot shower, and stepped into the tub with my cock in hand.
I grabbed the soap and lathered up my cock and balls and pumped the shaft until great ropes of white goo shot all over the wall. It didn’t take long, less than a minute. It was as if I had been holding back the orgasm for hours. My knees practically buckled as I came.
I sighed happily as I shot my load, grateful to relieve the pressure of the most intense erection I had ever had. When it was over I sank down to sit in the tub and let the hot water rain down upon me. I closed my eyes and imagined Genevieve whispering in my ear.
You are the one…
You are The One...
You are THE ONE...