As I stripped down to my panties and lay down under the sheet on the massage table, I wondered which massage therapist would be working on me today. I'd seen a few of the other ones before I had settled on Jill as my regular. The door opened, and someone walked inside. I stiffened in shock- it was a man! Smiling calmly at me, he greeted me and asked me about my concerns and problem areas for him to work on today. As I rattled off the usual concerns, my mind reeled. Was I okay with a strange man touching my body so intimately? But the more I thought about it, the more I convinced myself that this couldn't possibly go wrong. My salon was well respected and I had never felt unsafe there. Surely they would never hire a lecher. And he looked nice enough, not sleazy at all. In fact, now that I was looking, he was downright yummy. Just the way I like them- hard muscles and tattoos, short hair parted on the side and an earring in each ear. Edgy but not cheesy. Hmm, maybe this session had some potential that I hadn't considered yet. I could certainly enjoy some very intense fantasies with his hands roaming my body. Yes, this might be fun after all.
I smiled warmly at him and replied that I was ready to begin. As I laid back down and flipped over onto my stomach under the sheet, I shivered in anticipation. I felt a rush of air hit my back as he folded back the sheet to my waist. Then he began to work on my back and shoulder muscles. It was heaven! I had never before appreciated the difference between a man's and a woman's hands. His hands were large and strong, much stronger than Jill's. But he didn't over-work the muscles, just used that wonderful strength to knead them into submission and no more. When he finished my back, I sighed with sadness. But there was more to come. He began working on my arms and hands, which I always find to be a very sensual experience, no matter who does it. The hands are surprisingly sensitive to touch and pressure. As he finished my arms, he spoke.
What was this? I wasn't sure what to say. He had just asked me if he could remove the sheet in order to work my glutes! What should I say? I'd never been asked this before, but maybe it was just a routine thing if the glutes needed work. I'd never asked for them to be done before, but I was so sore from my last workout, I'd thought it would help me recover. OK, fine, might as well follow this thing through to the end. I told him that it was fine to remove the sheet, and he immediately did so. And then...he pulled down my panties too, took them clean off. OK, this was more than I'd bargained for. But what could I do, I'd already given my permission, even if I hadn't exactly understood what I was agreeing to. Maybe I'd been too zoned out and not heard him ask. Whatever the case, I had to see it through or else put my foot in my mouth. I decided to continue on. My pride has always been my downfall.
The therapist's hands caressed my bare ass and began to gently knead at the muscles. What had I been so worried about again? This felt amazing! Even better than my back. As he worked, the therapist's hands passed perilously near to my asshole, but that only added to the pleasure of the situation. I never would have thought a massage could feel so good! The therapist continued working down each leg, massaging and kneading in the massage oil. Then, after he finished, he asked me to turn over. Uh-oh. My pussy had just been waxed yesterday, so it was bare and vulnerable now. What should I do? Well, the therapist was sure to have seen a client's pussy before. It was just part of the job, right? Right. Here goes! I turn over and present my naked self to the therapist, breasts, nipples, and bald pussy. He smiled kindly and re-oiled his hands before beginning work on my breasts. What? This wasn't a normal part of a massage, not at all. But it felt soooo good, his strong hands pushing and pulling and squeezing my breasts and pinching and rolling my nipples. "What a heavenly feeling," I thought. Then, I felt myself responding to his touch, and a trickle of moisture welled up between my nether lips and dripped onto the sheet covering the table. Oh, how embarrassing! I shut my eyes tighter and willed it to stop, but it continued to build and only got worse. Then, I noticed that the therapist's hands had drifted from my breasts, down to my stomach, and were circling lower and lower.
Oh, no, it couldn't be! Was he serious? How could this have happened? I let out a quiet moan behind closed lips as his fingertips grazed the top of my pussy. He seemed to take this as an encouragement and moved lower still. Now his hands were gently massaging my outer pussy lips and running his fingers in the creases between the top of my legs and my pussy. As he ran his fingers up and down, he pressed inward on my pussy lips so that my inner lips were forced out into the light. I felt the first familiar stirrings of arousal deep within me and I decided right then to let him do as he wanted. I needed this, more than I had known, more than I had ever understood. The life of a single woman can be singularly lonely, and masturbating yourself can get dreadfully boring. The feel of a man's hands on my most private parts was almost more than I could bear. This was good. I would accept it for what it was and be content.
The pattern of his stroking fingers changed now, and his finger dipped down into the cleft of my pussy, rubbing my clit most wonderfully, and plunging into my hot, wet hole. In and out, in and out, his finger fucked me over and over, and I loved every minute. And then another finger joined the first, and then a third, so that I felt wonderfully full and sated each time he filled me up again. I cracked open my eyelids and snuck a glance at his face. He was bent over his work, a look of intense concentration and eagerness on his face. He was clearly enjoying his job very much today! And then, he changed tactics. With one hand, he pressed down gently but firmly on my lower belly. With the other, he re-inserted two of his fingers and began to tickle a spot inside me. This was new, I had never heard of this technique before. But it felt wonderful, even better than having my clit rubbed, in a way, and I felt like the day could not possibly get any better. And then it did. In a bewildering rush of intense, dizzying feeling, an orgasm like I had never experienced before drowned me suddenly, and I felt a warm wetness spreading through my body and out between my legs. What was this? Did I just pee on the nice therapist? But no, there was no smell of pee, and the therapist was smiling broadly now, as though he had just accomplished a particularly nifty trick. I asked in a small voice, "What was that?" He looked surprised for a moment, and then explained that I had had a G-spot orgasm, called "squirting" in the slang, as it was often accompanied by a female ejaculation. "Is it normal?" I asked him. Of course it was, he answered. In fact, I was lucky to have experienced it, as the stimulation provided must be done just right in order to be effective.
As I sat up and dressed myself, I asked the therapist if all his massages were like this. Then I saw a smile come over his face that I hadn't seen before. "No," he said, "This was my first. When I saw you, I couldn't restrain myself and all thoughts of consequences fell away. Can you forgive me for my presumption?" "Forgive you for what?" I asked. "I agreed to it, didn't I? And I made the decision not to stop you, over and over. I allowed it to happen, so I accept the consequences." He smiled broadly and bent over to kiss my hand.
I think I like this therapist. I think I'll see him again.