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Private Lessons 1/2
TW⚠️(underlined) consists: slow sex + rough sex + assertive dominance+ overstimulation + raw sex + dirty talk + office sex + voyeurism + choking
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"Back again?"
You chuckled, folding the towels before throwing them into the clean pile. Allen chuckled, cracking his fingers as he stepped into the room. "What can I say? I'm a hard worker Doc." He chuckled jokingly as he stepped into the tiny room. You worked as a massage therapist for the Sixers, though you transferred between teams, you preferred staying in Philly. "You gotta jazz this shit up a bit," Allen waved his finger around, gesturing to your office. "Y'know, incense, candles. Get a lil buddha figurine. It wouldn't hurt to play some music with those lil bell chimes and shit." He chuckled to himself amusingly, tossing the ball between his hands.
He thought he was so funny, you rolled your eyes. "You better have a busted knee or shoulder this time." You joked, sitting up from your chair. "Hey I'm just tryna be a good friend. You got an office just like coach. Most niggas don't find that attractive Doc." He tossed the ball onto the chair. "For a nigga who don't find that shit attractive, you sure be here a lot." You quickly shot back.
Allen gave you a look, shaking his head. "I said most niggas. I ain't most niggas." He smirked. You rolled your eyes, sitting on the edge of your desk, crossing your legs. "What is it this time?" You asked reaching for your drawer as you skimmed through your files until you found his folder and began flipping through his reports of past injuries. "Nothing too serious, I just took a hit. Coach told me to come check you." He said, speaking with his hands. "Besides, I wanted to come bother you some more." He grinned, placing his hands above his head. He was so fidgety sometimes. "You've been getting hit a lot these days, whats going on?" You asked while gesturing to the stretcher.
Allen hopped onto the table with no problem, cracking his neck as you circled around him. Allen was a reoccurring patient, constantly in pain and discomfort with sore muscles. However, he usually made up those excuses just to come see you, to be touched by you. Allen could swear you had hands of a goddess, they felt just right on his body. He was putty in your hands every single time. "Shit, I just stay in the gym. Gotta a lot of niggas I need to prove wrong, you wouldn't understand." He said nonchalantly, you ignored his last statement and went to remove his shirt. Allen bucked, grabbing your hand swiftly. "Easy Doc, we ain't even had dinner yet." You scoffed at his joke, rolling your eyes as he chuckled playfully. He helped you remove his shirt.
He let out a groan as he tossed his shirt behind him, bringing his arms down tiredly. You took a second to admire his physique, you did this every time he came in. He was mesmerizing sometimes, you just wanted to–
