Alex’s hands don’t just massage—they own. Every glide of oil-down skin mirrors the slick drag of my swollen, uncut cock beneath his palm—foreskin peeling back from my pulsing head, then sliding slow over that tender crown again… and again. My muscles loosen. My cock rigid, dripping with the same slick heat he works into my back. The connection isn't just energy—it’s hunger. His thumbs dig into my shoulders, and my hips jerk. A groan spills from my lips as his fingers trail lower… Is that his knee pressing between my thighs? The bodywork blurs into something deeper. His hand finally wraps around my thick, leaking cock. "Breathe," he murmurs Every stroke of his palm shoves my foreskin taut, then rolls it back, milking my leaking precum. The energy he promised isn’t flowing… it’s erupting.