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In the dimly lit room, he lies face down, his body a canvas of tense muscles and pent-up desire. The masseuse's hands, slick with oil, work their magic, tracing the lines of his body, finding every knot, every tension. She lingers on his thighs, her touch light, teasing. He shifts, a silent plea for more. She smiles, her fingers brushing against his balls, making him gasp. She continues, her touch confident, expert. She knows his body better than he does, knows what he wants before he does. When she finally touches his cock, he's ready, his body arching into her touch. She strokes him, her pace slow, building, until he's panting, his body tensing, then releasing in a rush of pleasure.