My First Time…
I have never received a massage before, and I am kind of nervous. What if my masseuse is someone repulsive? What if I pick up germs from a poorly sanitized table?
However, as soon as I walk into the spa, my fears are relaxed. The place looks beautiful and spotlessly clean, with natural sunlight pouring in. Besides, I need this massage if I want to complete my half-marathon training. As it approached, and my runs got longer, I began to experience intense pain in my left hamstring and glutes. My friend, who has been a runner for years, suggested this place, and so far it seems like a great recommendation.
I walk up to the pretty receptionist. “Hi, my name’s Lib. I had a full-hour appointment for 4:00 with… Sandra?” This is the specific masseuse that my friend recommended.
“Oh yes, I see your appointment right here…” she checks off my name on an old-fashioned paper calendar. “So, I’m so sorry to say, Sandra is sick today. The only person I have here is Andy. If that doesn’t suit you, I would be happy to reschedule your appointment.”
I gulp. A massage from a man? I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Still, I am in pain, and I want to be able to train with the group tomorrow. “Ok, that isn’t a problem. I’ll stick with today’s appointment.”
“Oh, awesome! And of course you’ll receive a 50% discount for the inconvenience.”
*Nice.* A $40 massage? I’ll take it. She swipes my debit card and then leads me back to the room. It’s dimly lit and smells of lavender and sandalwood. A few pink salt lamps decorate the table, and soft music is playing. “Just disrobe to your comfort level, and Andy will be in here in a few minutes.”
“Uh,” I say. She turns around, a polite but genuine smile on her face. “I was wondering,” I continue. “How much do people usually take off?”
She laughs. “You can wear whatever is comfortable, but I usually take everything off and just put the towel over my butt.”
“Ok, I’ll do that then.” I say.
“Awesome! Enjoy,” she says, closing the door behind me.
I strip down. The warm air is comfortable on my skin and the towel is soft as a cloud. I lay flat on the table, feeling exposed but also excited to get relief.
That’s when I hear the door creak open. I crane my neck around to see my masseuse walk in. *Damn*. He’s quite possibly the most attractive person I have ever seen. He has smooth, golden-tan skin and deep brown eyes. His short, spiky black hair complements his angular features. He’s just on the side of tall-but-not-too-tall, maybe 6’2”, and has a lean, muscular form. I also respond instantly to his kind and warm energy as soon as he begins to speak.
“Hi, I’m Andy. So I read Sandra’s notes and she said you were coming in to treat a sore gluteal and hamstring region on the left side?” He asks.
“Yes,” I say, not sure whether to keep my head up or place it in the face-hole at the bottom of the table. “I have been training for a run, and I noticed a lot of pain in the area when I am practicing.”
“You can put your head down if you want,” he says, pouring some oil onto his hands. I comply, sad that I can no longer look at him but happy that the awkwardness is slightly alleviated. “I can tell you run, too-you’re in great shape, like a fitness model,” he adds.
I’m glad that he can’t see me blush. Great shape is a bit of an exaggeration- I don’t look like an Instagram influencer. But I appreciate the compliment, even if it is a hair inappropriate. Although, to be honest, I wouldn’t mind being inappropriate with him.
“So, let’s get to it. Have you ever had a massage before?”
“No,” I respond. “This is my first time.”
“Oh, a massage virgin. Well, basically, just relax, and if I am doing anything at all to make you uncomfortable, let me know.”
“Awesome, thanks.” I’m not just a massage virgin, but a real virgin. Was the joke a jab at my perceived innocence, or just a friendly remark? I can’t tell, but as soon as his hands meet my body my cares are swept away.
He starts out at the top of my shoulders, circling the warm oil over the top of my back. It feels heavenly. He kneads it into the meatier part of my back, and I sink further into the table in delight. “Mmmm,” I can’t help but sigh. “That feels amazing.”
He laughs. “I’ve been told I’m pretty good with my hands.” He continues down to my lower back, just above where my towel rests. His technique is firm but gentle, and I feel no discomfort as he works in deeper and deeper. His touch feels amazing. I start to think of other things he could do with his hands. The combination of my fantasy and the reality of being so intimately touched makes my body start to respond, just a little. I feel the familiar warmth and tingling between my legs that I get when I’m turned on.
The more he touches me, the stronger it gets. I hope he doesn’t notice. I am afraid that I will start to get wet and drip onto the table, but I don’t usually get wet unless I am actually touching myself. I wonder what he would do if he realized I was getting horny. Would he stop the massage? Make me leave? Or would he get turned on too? Maybe his shift is almost over and he could invite me home? But I know that would never happen, and anyways I am probably far too inexperienced to satisfy him. Still, I want him more and more as the massage continues.
He interrupts my fantasy, clearing his throat. “So, for me to reach your glute, I am going to have to move the towel. Is it ok if I move it?”
*Did he say move or remove?* I wasn’t sure, but I wanted to get the best massage possible, even if it was awkward.
“Uh, sure,” I say. He slides the towel onto my right buttcheek, exposing the left and letting the middle fall in between my legs so the area was mostly covered. He starts working on the area, and I feel the tension begin to melt away.
“That feels amazing,” I say. “It’s really helping.”
“I’m glad. You probably need to stretch a little more. I don’t think you have any injury, the muscles are all just very tight,” he says.
Having his hands on my ass makes me too distracted to respond. Instead, I savor the relief, and every time his fingers meet the sensitive area between my upper thigh and cheek, I feel a pulse of pleasure deep inside. I feel like I need to masturbate, like right now. I wonder if there is some way I can rub the tops of my thighs together without him noticing. He’s only been going for about 20 minutes. Could I excuse myself to the bathroom? I’m afraid that even if I get myself off, once he starts touching me again, I will have the same issue.
He pushes down into my hamstring. It aches when he touches there, but after he works into it, I feel a lot of the tension melt away. “That is where I am really feeling a lot of pain,” I say.
“You probably just need to stretch it out more. Do you stretch it after you run?”
“Not really,” I say. I’m pretty bad about stretching.
“Let me show you some ways to stretch it out at home that should help. Would you mind rolling over onto your back and scorching towards me? You don’t have to put any more clothes on if you don’t want to. Trust me, I’ve seen everything, it wouldn’t bother me at all.”
It sounds a little suspicious, but I want to make him happy, and I’m so turned on that my decision-making skills feel a little hazy. I wonder if he will touch me at all. Would he know exactly what to do? I have a hard time making myself orgasm with just my own fingers. A vibrator is good, but when I’m trying to stimulate my own clitoris I feel like I never apply the right amount of pressure. I either touch too lightly or grind in so hard it hurts. Maybe he could help me find the right way to touch the area so I could come without a vibrator.
“Ok, I don’t mind,” I say, rolling over and sliding towards him. He makes no effort to hide that he is looking at my body. I flush even more, self conscious of my small breasts and blindingly pale skin. I can’t believe that I am really naked in front of him, with my legs slightly spread, everything visible. He reaches for my left leg and bends it at the knee, pushing it into my chest.
“So, you just want to pull your leg up light this to help loosen up the hamstring. Make sure to do this each time you run. Actually, you can do it to both legs.” He pushes the other leg up too, so both legs are tucked in and slightly parted. I look at his face. He seems mostly composed, but there is a little sweat on his temple, and he bites his lip subtly as I meet his gaze.
“Why don’t you spread your legs out a bit for me?” He says. I keep my knees in the tucked position, but open them up more. I feel how wet I am, and how much this position must be visually opening up my to him.
“Like this?” I ask.
“Yeah, that is good.” He openly checks out my body. It’s clear that the situation has changed. “What sized tits do you have?” He asks. It’s kind of a vulgar way to phrase it, but I like it, because it shows that he’s letting his professional demeanor fade away into lust. Plus, he isn’t being overly aggressive, and he has a small smile still on his lips.
“Just A-cups. My friends always said they would grow in one day, but they never did.” I feel like I’m babbling.
“No, I love them. I love them so much. I love tiny little tits,” he says, reaching for them both at the same time. His hands completely engulf them, and his hips are in between my legs. I gasp as he pinches my nipples. “They’re so cute, my god…just like you, you’re so cute.”
“You’re a talker,” I quip, surprised at my wittiness. I hope it makes me seem earthly and non-virginal. His hands have gone from gentle to a little more gravy, but the touch is still gentle enough to feel amazing.
“Hm, do you not like that? I like to talk. And I want you to know who’s in charge.” He pulls my hips into his.
“I think I’m the boss, since I paid for the massage.”
“Ok,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “What does the boss want?”
I suddenly feel shy again. I wonder whether to be honest and say I am a virgin, or try to fake experience. “Um. I want… I want you to show me how to touch myself.”
“Oh really? Wouldn’t you be the expert on that?” He pulls away a little.
“Uh-uh,” I say, shaking my head and looking up at him. “I always use a vibrator.”
He pushes my legs wide apart. “Then maybe I can help you with that.” He starts stroking my clit with his thumb. The touch is light and consistent, and I am so turned on that I can feel wetness dripping out. He pushes in a little more, his skilled, rhythmic hands building tension.
“That’s so good,” I say, “but I’m not sure I can cum from just that.”
“You probably need more,” he says. “Do you cum from penetration, like when you’re getting fucked? Maybe you just need to mimic that when you masturbate.” I like that despite the sexually charged situation, he’s still trying to logically work out a way for me to solve my problem.
I decide to just be honest. “Actually… I’ve never put anything in there… no one really has.”
“Damn, really? You must have a will of steel, turning down all of the guys that must come after you. I respect it though. I don’t know many girls as hot as you who made it to eighteen without losing theirs.”
He is a talker, but I like it a lot. His sexy, smooth voice only adds to my pleasure. He could be talking about the weather and it would help get me off.
“Anyways, if you wanted some help with that, I would be happy to assist.” He slides one fingertip to the opening of my vagina. I feel my pulse race higher. The thought of putting anything in there is scary, but I want it more than anything.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t hate it. No one will catch us right?”
“No one else is here but Casey, the receptionist, and she wears earbuds all the time. She can’t hear a thing.”
“Ok, sure.” I gasp as he starts to slide a finger inside me.
“God, you’re so tight. I’ve never felt someone so tight. I don’t want to hurt you.” He takes his finger out and slides his hand, using four fingers, over the opening of my vagina. It feels unusually sensitive, and I tuck my feet back against my butt and open my knees wider for more access. The pussy massage continues, making me so wet I know that I was dripping onto the table.
He tries to slide a finger in again, and it goes in, and he adds another. The sensation is unfamiliar, yet I can tell it is exactly what my body was craving. He starts slowly rubbing his fingers in and out, pushing gently against the more sensitive spot deep inside. It feels so good that I’m not even embarrassed about the loud, slick sound of my wet pussy.
He goes harder, hooking his fingers up a little bit, and thrusts his arm up and down. He forces his fingers deeper, hitting the right spot. I gasp as the building tension in my body releases all at once, in a deep, body-shaking orgasm, so different from the ones I have given myself with a vibrator.
He takes his fingers out and unzips his pants. “You probably deserve more attention, but I-” he takes out his dick, which is almost terrifyingly huge- “can’t wait much longer.”
He slides his cock over the opening of my vagina, up and down, and starts to push it inside. It hurts, and I squeal a little bit, which I think he mistakes for enjoyment, so he pushes in even deeper.
“You’re so fucking tight. So fucking tight.” He pushes his full length in, and while it aches, it seems to reach every single nerve ending in my body. He puts both hands on my belly, then changes his mind and grabs my hips, all while fucking me harder and harder.
My body responds, and I keep trying to push myself deeper into him, despite the pain. Just as I think my body couldn’t handle it anymore, I cum again, feeling the muscles inside clench and release around the big cock deep inside me. The pressure must have been too much for him, and it takes him over the edge. He quickly pulls his dick out and jerks himself off, the cum leaving a little pool on my belly.
“Oh, my god,” he says, pulling up his pants. He grabs a towel and wipes away the cum. “That was so amazing.”
“Yeah,” I say, sitting up and looking at the clock. My hour is almost up. “I should probably get going,” I say awkwardly.
“Oh, yeah. Well, I guess if you ever want to see me again, I can give you this.” He grabs a business card.
“Old fashioned! I’ll think about it.” Of course I want to see him again, but I have to be cool about it.
“Alright. Awesome.” He smiles. “Well hopefully, I’ll see you again soon.”
I wipe my skin down with a fresh towel and put on my clothes. “Hopefully,” I say, somehow walking out the door cooly.
When I pass the receptionist, she takes out an earbud and asks how my massage was.
“Not bad,” I say, feeling the business card in my pocket.
*****************
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Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/b7belg/my_first_time_fm_virginity_massage_fan_request