Fine Line

to start experimenting and moved his chair to sit next to him. “Touch the head, it’s very sensitive. Move your finger around the rim, touch the slit.”
    Mack’s breath hitched from time to time, but Jay could see the frustration grow in his face as his movements didn’t seem to bring him closer to release.
    “Speed up your movements a bit, Mack.”
    “It doesn’t work,” the older man hissed, his body now clearly tense.
    Jay moved closer, so he could whisper. “Yes it does, Mack. You’re still hard as a rock. You’re touching yourself and it feels good.” He knew his voice sounded very dirty, but he also knew from his experience with other patients that this was sometimes enough to take them over the edge.
    “I can’t! It won’t work!” Mack’s eyes were still screwed shut and The Fine Line by Zahra Owens

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    his voice sounded strangled and desperate.
    “Don’t give up now, Mack. You’re this close to finding release.
    Relax, let it happen. It’s a good thing!”
    “I can’t!”
    Jay moved his hand to cover Mack’s. “Faster,” he suggested, then moved his hand below the band as well and cupped the man’s balls, pressing the tips of his fingers into the sensitive skin underneath the sac.
    “Fuck! Oh my....!” Mack groaned, his hips thrusting up reflexively.
    Thick, creamy strands shot out of him, landing on his stomach and chest and as high up as his shoulder. Jay continued moving Mack’s hand to prolong his orgasm, but suddenly the older man pulled away. He’d opened his eyes and jumped away from Jay’s touch, getting up off the recliner and tucking himself into his trousers. In a matter of moments he’d gathered his things and was out the door without another word being exchanged.
    Jay got up from the stool he’d been sitting on and out of habit moved to the small side room to wash his hands. He was still a little dazed at what had happened and noticed his dilated pupils and even more dishevelled than usual hair in the mirror over the small sink.
    “Oh, what the hell,” he sighed to himself, quickly unbuttoning his jeans and taking out his own painfully confined erection. He knew it wouldn’t be very satisfying, but he had another client coming in ten minutes, and not taking care of his arousal would mean he wouldn’t be able to give the man his full attention. It only took a few strokes for him to get close. His moan sounded strangled as he came, leaning on the sink, and he was still breathing heavily when he cleaned up the evidence of his lack of self-control.

    “MR. ELLIS?”
    The court officer’s voice sounded insistent, so Jay realised this was The Fine Line by Zahra Owens

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    probably not the first time she’d called his name.
    “I’m sorry,” Jay apologised.
    “Do you usually get that physical with your clients?”
    “Not often, but sometimes, yes.”
    “In which cases does the therapy entail, shall we say, ‘hands on experience’?” It was clear she wasn’t entirely comfortable with the way she formulated the question, but it was in the best interest of the arbitration to clear it up.
    “Sometimes talking isn’t enough. Sometimes clients need to experience things for themselves.”
    “And how do you make them do that? Do you teach them to masturbate?”
    For just a moment Jay looked up and saw her face was non-judgemental. She was only trying to understand. “I do, sometimes. It all depends on the individual needs of the client.”
    “Counting roughly of all the men that require physical contact as a form of therapy, in what percentage of cases are you an active physical participant in their therapy?”
    Jay took his time thinking about it. “I’d say roughly five percent maybe?”
    “Could you elaborate on what exactly your input is?” Jay could see that worry lines had started to appear on the woman’s forehead and he didn’t feel that was a positive sign. He inhaled deeply, trying to keep his professional cool. “I try to keep my distance and participate as little as possible. I have, on occasion, brought a man to completion with my hand, yes, but I never go further, although some men do need more than what I offer them.”
    “What prevents you from going further?” she asked almost coldly.

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    “It wouldn’t be ethical to go further. I’m a therapist and there has to be a certain trust. Going further would possibly compromise that trust.”
    “So what happens if they need further