[M]assage Therapist Confessions: Me & “Mrs. C”

Years ago I decided to become a massage therapist as an easy way to make decent money that wasn’t waiting tables. It was everything I hoped it would be in terms of flexibility and the low amount of mental-bandwidth it took to do the job, making it easier to focus on my actual passions.
I worked for the same LA spa from the time I got hired, up until COVID shut everything down and I simply never returned. Massage had really been burning me out the last couple of years, so COVID was a great excuse for me to leave the business of bodies behind me. Over the years friends have told me that I should write about my experiences as a massage therapist but honestly, I just never found it all that interesting. There wasn’t much to tell since needy, demanding, or just mentally taxing clients never liked me very much because I didn’t feed into it. The customer is not always right in my book. That left me with a bunch of normal clients who did nothing but make my day pleasant and drama free. Which is great for my day to day mental health but not so good for stories. Except for the ones involving a bit more than massage. From my experience, the job was pretty much what it looks like from the outside. Listen to clients, try to address their issues, some liked me, some didn’t, good tippers, bad tippers, blah blah blah. But what I didn’t anticipate was that at some point, someone was going to find me, and/or my massage titillating. So here I am to tell you the stories I can’t tell people in real life.
Mrs. C
Mrs. C was a tall, lean, bar-method devotee, who was the wife of an industry bigwig. Yup! We’re starting with the married woman! She was already a regular at our spa before she and I met but would always cycle through different therapists at the spa since everyone was pretty good at what they did. She’d always catch my eye in the lobby because she’d regularly be dressed in what is easily my female-fashion kryptonite: a sundress and heels/wedges. Basic? Yup. Do I care? Nope. She knew what her physical strengths were and knew how to show them off. Long, tanned, toned legs that were only further highlighted by her heels. She stood at about 5’9” so heels easily made her 6 feet tall. And if that wasn’t enough, she knew exactly how to show off her cleavage. Her DDD’s were always front and center, and why not? She paid good money for them and they looked great.
Every time I’d see her in the lobby I’d wish that I was the one who was going to massage her but didn’t think much beyond that until the day came. There she was, on my schedule. She walked in, dress, wedges, her blonde hair falling across her face, and a smile that I now know is trouble. I took her into the room and we went through the usual “any areas troubling you” and instructions to start face down, all while I made very, very intentional eye contact. My goal was always to make female clients feel as comfortable as possible, especially the ones I found attractive. They don’t need to go into a massage with their therapist leering at them, making them feel uncomfortable even before he touches her. Anyway I leave the room for her to get undressed (to her comfort level) and to steel myself for the monumental task I have of professionally touching this woman.
The massage begins. I oil my hands, and starting from the nape of her neck, I run them slowly down the length of her back until I meet the fleshy top of her hips and ass. The subtle shelf a woman’s glutes make is so sexy to me. So when I got there I took an extra second to feel it. Just place my fingertips at the point where the rigid sacrum meets the soft top part of her glutes. Doing so, I notice she’s decided to go fully nude. Completely normal but I still made a note of it. Her body felt amazing and I used all of the will power I had to not let a massage stroke turn into a caress. I’m sure I failed a few times. We chatted a lot and she was just lovely. We talked about everything and got along just great. I learned that she was routinely sore from doing pilates and bar-method several times a week which lead to her being so tight, especially in the glutes. After her back I made my way down to her legs and as I undraped her left leg, she made sure to spread her legs just as far apart as she could. I ran my hand up her leg and up over her bare ass and down to her front hip. I was nervous since this was one of those strokes that very definitely turned into a caress. My nerves were quieted very quickly though as she made sure to tell me how good it felt. I made my way down her leg making sure to get a good long glide up her inner thigh. As I inched up her leg, no more than 2 inches from her pussy I noticed her arch her back and lift her hips. Just a bit. Without comment. Right there I felt my cock begin to fill. Shit. The pants I wear to massage are very thin and were not going to do anything to hide my now pulsing dick. I moved down her leg and that helped to relieve the tension. Great, I was in the clear. I did the other leg and managed to get rid of my erection before the flip.
She turned over, told me how great it felt so far. Thinking I’m in the clear, I start to massage the front of her legs. Her quads were very sore, she told me. Again, she spread her legs a bit wider, and tugged at the sheet to make sure I could get access to her hip flexors (that point where your leg meets your torso in the front). I run my hand up her quad, up over her hip bone, feeling every detail I can. She makes sure to tell me how good it feels and she lets out a few moans. My fingers make a few detours and I can feel the edge of her mons and some slight stubble of her pubic hair. She clearly keeps it shaved. Instantly I’m rock hard again. She doesn’t say a word but is clearly breathy much more deeply.
I move on. I don’t trust myself. As I massage her arms I notice her looking at me. Not out of the ordinary, but there was a way she was looking at me. A sweet, mischievous smile and would almost look away as if I had caught her looking at me in public. I think that’s when I knew I was in trouble. The final flirtation was when I worked on her neck. (I like to work the next last. You’re face up and I sit at the head of the table.) As I worked she would angle her head up to try to get our faces as close together as they could. I certainly got closer than normal. There was an electricity between us. We were both feeling it. She was waiting for me to make a move and I was hesitant, but I wanted nothing more than to kiss her gloss covered lips. The massage ended and there was a bit of a linger but that was it. I met her in the lobby to say goodbye and thank her and she made it a point to hug me, her hand spread out feeling as much of my back as she could, her body pressed as tightly to me as she could, and my hand slid from her mid back to the top of her glutes making if very clear that I was feeling it. As we hugged she turned to the receptionist and almost reflexively said to her “he’s so cute!” I went back to my room to change the sheets and noticed that she had left a wet spot right in the middle of the table.
That night I went home and immediately jerked off. I specifically remember what I was picturing. Mrs. C between my legs, my hard cock in her mouth, while I fondled her tits.
I can’t remember how many sessions we had between that first session and this one I’m about to tell you but it was no more than 3 or 4. We had been flirting pretty heavily and this time we picked up right where we left off. I’d let you in on the details but honestly, I just don’t remember. Fast forward to the end of the massage, I’m working on her neck (You remember how I do that from earlier right?)and I’m inching my face closer to hers. Deciding to make my move I play dumb and say “Sorry. I was getting really close to your face.” She opened her eyes and asked what I said. “I was getting close to your face. Didn’t want you to open your eyes and see me inches from your face.” I said as I showed her how close I was. She then held her hand to her face, just barely not touching her nose and said, “It wouldn’t be bad even if you were right… here.” I slowly moved in and our first kiss was upside down. We made out like Spidey and MJ while I moved my hands down to massage her tits and play with her nipples which were so sensitive that she’d squirm and moan with every slight pinch. I finally turned myself around to her side so we could make out like teenagers. I still remember her soft tongue and full lips against mine. She grabbed my left hand from her right breast and moved it down between her legs. She was so wet. My middle finger circled her engorged clit for a bit but she was so wet my finger literally slipped inside. She came hard and fast. Whimpering in my ear trying to be as quiet as she could. And with that time was up. I had another client in 15 minutes. To be continued…(?)

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/u9j7zm/massage_therapist_confessions_me_mrs_c