Far below sea level, we walked along a long white corridor. He opened a door onto a darkened room, in which stood a bed draped in towels. From a lamp on a freestanding shelf unit rotated soft, multi-coloured, dreamy images across the walls and ceiling.
He motioned me toward the bed, and gestured to me to remove my robe. I shucked it off, his eyes not leaving mine for a second. I saw him surreptitiously swallow, all the while returning my gaze, his crystal blue eyes meeting my soft brown stare.
I wasn’t expecting anything to happen beyond the massage that I’d ordered. This was, after all, a most respectable establishment. Then, for a split second, I saw a glint in his eye as it held onto my gaze, and I felt a shiver run through me.
I’d seen that glint before. Many times.
I double-took, but when I looked back at him, his eyes were wide and innocent. Not a hint of anything other than consummate professionalism. Presuming I had imagined what I’d seen, I climbed onto the bed, and lay down on my back, waiting for him to begin.
I’d not done this for a long time. A full body massage can be either a great pleasure, or a great disappointment. Sadly enough, the first time I experienced a full body massage, the masseur was a novice and incompetent, and it put me off for years. At the urging of a good friend, though, I’d decided to risk it once more. And here I was.
As he draped soft, warm towels over me, I felt his hand brush against my breast; almost accidentally, but lingering just a fraction of a second too long to be anything other than intentional. It soon became apparent that this was going to be an experience I was unlikely to forget in a hurry.
He uncovered my left leg and began to manipulate with his strong and talented fingers. I could feel the aches, the tension and the sheer frustration being kneaded away as he rubbed my calf. He continued up my leg, without pausing the rhythmic stroking until I began to feel so relaxed that I floated up, up and away from my myself, as if I were observing the scene from above.
Then it happened again. That non-accidental stroke of my skin that I’d felt before, as he manipulated my inner thigh. This time his fingers strayed between my thighs, and stroked me… over the top at first, then briefly dipping in between them. Teasing me.
Tantalizingly, fleetingly. But definitely.
Trailing his fingers back over my leg, leaving a glistening line in their wake.
I said nothing, since no verbal accompaniment was forthcoming. I knew it was no figment of my imagination, but I suddenly found that I couldn’t broach the subject verbally. I wondered if that was it, just a brief tease. Either way, the massage was sufficiently good to keep me happy, so I lay there. Waiting patiently. Enjoying the feel of his hands…
He covered up my left leg and progressed onto my right leg, rubbing and kneading from the toes and instep, through my ankle, my calf and up my thigh. I unconsciously held my breath to see if there would be a repeat of the stroking and teasing from before, and when there was, I sharply exhaled without thinking, from both relief and desire.
That stroke was one of the most sensual touches I’d ever felt.
This time, the stroke was not so brief. By exhaling, I’d acknowledged what he was doing, and he now moved himself so that he was standing by my torso, as one hand continued to massage my thigh, while the other stroked between them.
I opened my eyes to find him looking down at me, with a beautiful smile on his face.
“Is that okay?” he asked me.
Wordlessly, I nodded. I felt desire rising in me like molten lava; each stroke only intensifying the feeling.
He covered up my leg, removing the towels from my torso and breasts, and positioned himself behind me. His hands stroked from my neck and throat, down to my waist, with large figure-eight formations. He avoided my breasts, until I felt as though I would explode if he didn’t touch them, and then he did. Hot strong hands, the palms brushing my rock-hard nipples, fingertips playfully feeling them.
Sensing how I felt, he bent over so that I could see the look in my eyes.
“Are you enjoying this?” he whispered.
I tried to answer him that yes, yes! this was wonderful, but I found my mouth had gone almost completely dry. I ran my tongue over my lips, in a vain attempt to speak, when he bent down and kissed me.
Softly at first, probing gently with his tongue until it met mine. The kiss grew more and more passionate, while his hands continued their relentless path across my breasts and torso. Each stroke made me shudder with anticipation and fuelled the growing orgasmic pleasure that was building within me.
He broke from the kiss, and moved around until he once again stood by my side. His hands never broke contact with my skin for a moment, and I wondered whether he planned to finish the massage or just take me then and there.
I didn’t care either way.
The massage was incredible: sensuous, slow and relaxing. Kneading the pain and stress out of me with every touch. The kiss and the stroking had aroused me to fever pitch, but the massage was prolonging that feeling and I could wait.
If I had to.
Ultimately, the decision wasn’t in my hands. Or, more accurately, I didn’t take it into my hands — a departure from my more aggressive norm. The fun of leaving fate in the hands of others had always appealed to me, and never more so than now.
He continued with the massage, but I could feel his eyes on me. His hands moved down my torso until they once again brushed between my thighs. This time, however, he maneuvered my thighs until my legs were bent and slightly apart… and then climbed onto the bed with me. His hands continued to fondle and caress my breasts and torso, and then I felt his tongue part my labia, and once again I caught my breath.
His mouth was warm and soft but felt deliciously cool against my hot cunt. Gently he licked around my labia, flicking along my slit until it parted of its own accord. His tongue found my clit, and encircled it, before he brought his whole mouth over it and sucked it gently, swirling his tongue around it as I soared higher and higher in heavenly bliss. I peaked and came, shuddering great waves of joy as he lapped at me with his tongue, drinking me in.
“Time to turn over,” he whispered to me, as his arms slid beneath me and began to turn me. I complied with him, and turned onto my front, where he prevented me from lying flat, positioning me with my ass open and ready for him. He stroked between my butt cheeks, having first licked his finger to moisten me, and then played with my ass cherry, dipping his fingers deep within me, in my ass and in my cunt. Still coming down from my fantastic orgasm, I found myself being aroused once more, still feeling helpless and out of control, but in the best way possible.
“Are you ready for me?” he whispered, softly, into my ear. I nodded silently. This was his game. He was the master and I was no more than a willing slave.
He kept his finger moving within my ass, but removed his finger from my cunt, only to replace it with his hard, solid cock. I could feel my vaginal muscles moving to surround him, to greet him, to press and stimulate him and he moved within me and I eagerly responded.
I spoke for the first time.
“Oh god, yes… that’s so good, oh god… fuck me… yes, harder… yes… YES.”
We moved in sync, him pumping into me, me flexing back at him. I could feel myself nearing my peak again, amazed at the rapidity with which he could arouse me so soon after orgasm to achieve another.
He held me in his arms, his hands still massaging my breasts from behind, his arms encircling me tightly and firmly, yet with a tenderness that belied the rhythm with which he was making love to me.
I could feel his breath upon my neck as he softly murmured to me:
“I’m going to come”.
I murmured back to him:
“Yes, baby, come. Come now, come hard, come for me… yes. Yes.”
With no scream but a groan that burst forth from his very soul, he shuddered and came, filling me with what seemed like a gallon of cum. He withdrew and after catching his breath, snuggled up next to me, holding me spoon-like. He nestled his head into my shoulder, kissing along the edge of my neck as he recovered from his almighty orgasm.
“Did you enjoy that?” he asked me.
I nodded my assent.
“I’m so glad,” he said. “I don’t know what it is, but there’s something about you… I just couldn’t stop myself. I hope it was alright with you that I gave you a very different kind of massage to the one you booked…”
I turned and looked at him. He stared back at me, once again meeting my eyes directly.
I leaned toward him, and kissed him softly, the first voluntary move I’d made since I’d entered the room. From my pocket I took a folded slip of paper and handed it to him.
“I can’t accept this cheque,” he said. “You ordered a massage and I didn’t deliver.”
I looked straight at him.
“Too fucking right you can’t,” I replied. “But you can at the very least give me your number….”