Massage therapists in Iceland are very friendly [F]

Way too early in the year when we didn’t realize the entire country would be closed for business, we booked some cheap ass tickets to Iceland. The plan was to land, get our rental camper and travel the ring for seven days freezing our asses off, taking a million pictures, tons of hiking, climbing, and scrambling around on the glaciers. Then we would come back to Reykjavik for tons of pampering and spa days and cuddle sex under fur blankets. It was a flawless plan.

We landed in early March, and literally like ten businesses were open and it was goddamn freezing. Which, I’d left it to my husband to do all the research, so nothing really got done. Luckily the amazing hotel we stayed at was open, but pretty damn empty. Hence the insanely cheap rates. We picked up our camper at the airport which was so, so small compared to LAX and took off. It was a few hours of driving through what looked like an apocalyptic landscape with no one else on the road before we hit the first sign of life, a small village called Hveragerði. We stumbled around in the frozen ground looking at half frozen streams and locals stuffed into parkas and we started to really worry about the trip.

I’ll shorten the next week: We saw some awesome horses, rode snowmobiles, almost got our truck blown off the road in a snowstorm, climbed the side of an ice wall, saw an crashed airplane, snowshoe’d across a few miles of glacier, and fucked in our frozen van a ton of times. It was fun, but I’d never been so cold and worn out considering I’ve spent my whole life in Los Angeles.

We exchanged the camper for an Audi at the airport and headed back to Reykjavik for our pampering. At the hotel we chose they had an on site spa and float room, along with tons of amenities. The ones I was most interested in were the steam room and massages at that point. So as we checked in, I started adding things on left and right to the bill and grabbing bottles of wine from the bar.

After getting drunk and passing out watching TV and using the internet we hadn’t seen in a week, we woke up early and went down for our first time in the spa. We were no doubt the only people in the entire hotel because we kept seeing the only two people who seemed to work there, a front desk girl and this guy who was doing maintenance and just cleaning up.

We had a steam then hung out a bit before showering and heading off for our massages. We’ve had a bunch of couples massages since we got married, but they only offered single ones in the spa area. I walked into the small room after saying goodbye to Brian and walked into the dark, candle lit room and was greeted by a guy who looked exactly like Charlie Hunnum. He had a thick Icelandic accent, which I was still getting used to, and was just gorgeous. He was in a tight white t-shirt and white linen pants. He was the same guy who had been cleaning up, so I wasn’t sure what to think about him being the masseuse also.

In his stilted English, he said, “clothes go there, lay down, I’ll be back,” and he walked out of the room after pointing to a basket on the side table. I had just left the showers in the spa so I was only wearing one of their big fluffy robes, my swimsuit was back in the locker area. So, I thought fuck it, and dropped my robe in the basket and laid down on the table with my face through the little hole and my ass pointing at the door feeling a bit exposed.

He came back in and made a little, “oh,” noise, then took a towel off a hook on the wall that was slightly larger than an iPad and draped it over my butt after folding it over. I heard him moving around and he turned on a white noise machine. He rubbed his hands together, then started low on my back, rubbing my muscles and moving up towards my shoulders.

It took about 30-seconds to realize he wasn’t just a handyman and he was actually a masseuse. He kneaded out the knots in my back that were built up from hiking, freezing, and sleeping in the back of a van for a week. It was amazing.

He drove his knuckles and palms into my back over and over again for like 10 minutes turning me into a puddle of loose muscle and sinew. Then, he moved down to my thighs, shifting the towel further up my back, and my legs turned to jelly. The lotion he was using was slightly warming and slick. He focused on the back of my legs for the perfect amount of time. I hadn’t felt this relaxed in a long time.

“Roll,” he said to the back of my head, I was lost in feeling relaxed and it took me a second to realize he was talking to me or talking at all. I was beyond caring about being naked so I rolled over and he dropped the towel on my lap, covering my pubes and not much else.

He started on my feet, rolling lotion into my toes and driving his thumbs into the arch of my feet that were destroyed from living in hiking boots for a week. My feet are a huge erogenous zone for me already, and this was pushing it over the top. I could feel my ass cheeks clenching and my back tensing. I looked down at him and he had a half smile on his face, staring at me. When we locked eyes, he looked away quickly and wiped the smile off his face.

But, he doubled down on the foot massage. He added more lotion and pushed his fingers between my toes. My husband knows the quickest way to get me in the mood is a foot massage, and it seemed like this guy was figuring that out. I could feel myself starting to get wet.

He moved up my legs to my calves and I stopped him, “Please, more on my feet.” He laughed softly and moved his hands back to my feet and I realized I was biting my lower lip. Any chance I had of pretending like that wasn’t turning me on was gone. He’d stop concealing his smile and I stopped fighting how much of a turn on the foot massage was. I was gripping the side of the table and breathing deeply.

After ten solid minutes of him massaging my feet and me getting seriously wet, he moved up my legs and I didn’t stop him. He was kneading my thighs and lifted one of my legs off the table up to his chest and he rubbed his strong hands deep down my leg, rubbing the bottom of my ass cheek. His hand was millimeters from my pussy and I could feel the heat of his hand against me.

When he ran his hand down my leg, it brushed against my pussy lips and it was electric. I moaned softly and he smiled wide. He switched to the other leg, teasing me a little with his hands then spread the oil across my stomach and breasts, lightly teasing my nipples with his knuckles.

He pushed aside the tiny towel and rubbed lotion across my lower stomach and kneading it into the space where my thighs met my lap and I pushed my hips towards him. He rubbed the lotion softly along the sides of my pussy lips and across my pubic hair. I suddenly wished I’d shaved for this.

I looked over at his body, and I saw his tight shirt had ridden up some and I could see a strip of his pale abs. It stood out as intensely sexual to me, just that little peak. His pants were slung pretty low and it looked like he had a bit of a bulge happening. I really wanted him to take his shirt off so I could stare at his chest.

He was running his hands across my stomach and pushed his fingers against my pubic area, like a quarter inch away from my clit and I ached for him to touch me. I was so ridiculously turned on, I never wanted someone to touch me more right then. I was grinding my whole hips against his hand each time he slipped it between my legs. He could have fucked me right then and I would not even tried to slow him down or stop him. My entire body was on fire.

It was a game of teasing and deniability. He was slipping his fingers around and not focusing on one spot and it was so frustrating. He’d brush across my clit or pussy lips, then refocus somewhere else, it was maddening. If this was my husband, I’d already have pushed him down and would be riding his cock.

Then he just stopped and rested his hands on my stomach and he was looking down at me. I wasn’t sure what was happening, but I wanted it to happen. So badly.

He opened his mouth to speak, then stopped. I closed my eyes and just said, yes. I felt like if I kept my eyes closed it didn’t count. So, I vowed not to open them. Whatever he wanted was fine with me.

Then, I felt his rough finger slide between my pussy lips and find my clit and I grabbed the sides of the table and I think I said my god or something out loud, but it might have been in my head. He slid his oily fingers along my pussy and each time he touched my clit I gasped a little. I kept my eyes closed tight.

He was focused on my clit and I was breathing heavy trying not to loudly moan. My back was arched and my toes were curled and I felt like I was going to explode. I wanted him to fuck me, I wouldn’t have said no. I wouldn’t have stopped him. If he asked, I’d beg.

I was breathing hard through clenched teeth and he wasn’t slowing down. I wanted to look to see if he was hard, but I kept my eyes closed. As I realized the towel was gone, I felt an orgasm building. I tried to control my breathing, but it was a lost cause, I let out long deep breaths as I pushed my hips against his hand, his other hand was pressed hard against my pubis as he slid his fingers around and against my clit. I gripped the table hard.

When I came, I fought hard to make no noise and my entire body clenched and I rolled on my side, keeping my eyes closed. I hugged my knees to my chest and tried to calm my breathing. When I finally slowed my breathing and felt under control I opened my eyes. He was in the corner looking at his phone. I sat up feeling really awkward. He smiled at me, and I said thank you. He handed me my robe.

“Do I tip you?” I asked awkwardly.

“No, no tip, have a good day,” he said dismissively, looking down at his phone.

I tied my robe and walked out. My husband was in with the other masseuse in the other small room. I pressed my ear against the door but couldn’t hear anything, so I went down the hallway to the bar and got a glass of wine. I felt relaxed down to my core and sipped the wine waiting for my husband to come out.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/agyhda/massage_therapists_in_iceland_are_very_friendly_f