My stomach was full with butterflies as I waited in the waiting area. I really shouldn’t be in this place. Only because a buddy gave me a free session and I didn’t want to seem rude, I made the appointment. A massage seemed too obscene and similar to how I imagined men would caressing me in the bedroom. Even worse, this massage covered the entire body. What exactly did that mean? Was I required to strip off my clothes? I kept thinking about how uncomfortable it would be to be turned on in front of a stranger while I sat there.
My name was called as the lobby door opened just as I was about to leave. I abruptly got to my feet. I was being invited to go to the rear with a tall man who was dressed casually. I felt a nervous flutter as I took in his unkempt hair and brilliant blue eyes while he smiled amiably. Why didn’t I ask for a woman as my therapist? Was even that a choice? He introduced himself and said that he would be looking after me today. His name was Nick, and we proceeded down a brief hallway.
In an effort to stop my chest from flushing and my breathing from becoming increasingly labored, I followed him. He briefed me on the process while we engaged in small conversation about the Chiefs game. He would go outside the door, and I would call him inside once I was ready. He said that although keeping my clothing on was an option, most individuals went nude. In order to conceal my bottom half, he gave me a small white sheet.
The door slammed. My heart was pounding frantically. Either I would immediately remove off my clothes or I would make up a reason to leave. I quickly began putting my t-shirt over my head. I took a moment to scan my body. I suppose you could say that I have generous proportions, with a noticeable ass to waist ratio and full, pear-shaped breasts. I clung to my shirt, feeling as usual embarrassed. I never display my body in public, in large part because I detest when others steal looks at me.
I removed my bra and let my tits hang down as I broke out in a cold sweat. No need to fret right now. I unzipped my jeans and laid face-down on the massage table with a towel covering my lower body. I twisted my neck a bit. The folded towel entirely hid my ass, but it did a horrible job of covering me.
I turned back into place with my arms folded in front of my head as the door opened once more. I was asked if I was ready to start by the therapist. I visualized his eyes scanning my exposed body. I was confident that he would notice my breasts’ sides and the towel that was arranged in an arch over my butt. I gently inhaled before telling him I was prepared.
He walked over to me and put his hands in some oil. He ran his hands along my skin in a fluid rhythm, starting with my shoulders. The rubbing was stronger than I had anticipated. Every area he touched released a small amount of tension, and soon a warm sensation started to go down my spine. The warmth had already permeated my entire body by the time he reached my lower back. I let out a breath that I wasn’t even aware I had been keeping in.
He paused and enquired as to my well-being. I replied, surprised at how breathy and weak I sounded. “Please continue,” I said. I enjoyed the sensation of my nipples stiffening and pressing against the table, but not without remorse. On my clit, a tingling sensation danced. Who cares if I had a little lust? Simply put, my body was responding to stimulation in a natural way.
I suddenly became aware that my back was rounded. If the towel hadn’t been covering me, I would have been showing him my swollen pussy. (I have found that few men can withstand this specific move of mine.) I forced my hips down until they were flat on the table, using what little mental energy I still had left. My pussy lips were rubbing against each other, and I could feel how wet they were as I adjusted. The therapist was still satisfyingly hard as she worked on my lower back and had made no comments.
He then inquired about massaging my glutes in a voice that seemed entirely casual. I paused for a second before responding immediately with “yes.” Would I prefer that he keep the towel on or remove it? again, butterflies in my stomach I was afraid that I could have actually begun to drip onto the table. Do as you typically would,” I replied. Without saying a word, he pulled the towel down, exposing all except the bottom of my ass.
He was now placing his hands on my butt instead of my lower back. I tightened my legs in the hopes that he wouldn’t notice the increasing wetness. The degree of strain was rising to a risky point. I felt a void inside of me, the deep agony of a pussy wanting inside stimulation, as I concentrated on keeping my hips flat. I pondered my options if he tried to get close to me. Most likely, I wouldn’t be able to hold back. It was as though I was hot.
He was centimeters away from my trash with his hands. Did he find this enjoyable? Why would a masseuse be any different from the many other males who become fixated on my behind? Unconsciously, as his hands made firm strokes across my glute muscles, I started to relax my thighs. I felt the cool room air on the dampness of my pussy when my legs spread. My hands clung to the table’s velvety surface.
The moment his hands reached my left thigh, my thoughts shut off. My hips left the table once again. Everything became very tense. As he held me, my leg muscles flexed. I had stopped caring at that point. In about five seconds, I was about to have an orgasm, and none of us could stop it. I tensed my muscles and slammed my bloated clit against the table in response to an excruciating sensation that felt like it was clamping down on my tummy. The moment his hands left my thigh, it was already too late. The pain peaked to an intolerable level before dissipating. I tightened my hold on the table and grunted as my heated pussy repeatedly constricted in arousal. When the pleasure dissipated, I fell completely slept on the table.
I turned to face the therapist, who was still standing over me, through the warm haze. He obviously knew exactly what had transpired based on the ravenous expression in his eyes. He noticed a bulge in his shorts. He asked me to roll over as if nothing had changed. I immediately complied, keeping his gaze while turning around and showing him my firm nipples. I again folded my hands over my head and stared at him, my cheeks flaming, daring him to move. He glanced over my body, undoubtedly noticing my flushed form that was still dripping with oil.
Once more, his hands passed over me quickly and urgently. I gasped as he caressed the outside of my breasts and then gently moved down the lines of my hips. He quickly started wrapping the tips of his fingers around my vulva. Just as he pushed two fingers inside, he knelt down and began kissing me. Blindly climbing up his shorts, I felt the contour of his cock with my hand. I groaned when I realized how thick it was; its circumference had to be equal to my wrist.
I ran out of patience. I admitted to him in a whisper that I had to have him inside of me right away. Without asking me a single question, he ripped off his shorts and t-shirt and climbed up onto my panting body while continuing to give me intense kisses on my face and neck. I noticed his enormous dick hanging there and twitching with anticipation when I looked down. He brushed his hand across my soaking slit while looking into my eyes. He was now holding onto the table’s edges. I caught sight of the door. What if anybody entered? We would have to keep silent. He grunted before sliding inside. I encircled him with my arms and legs, tensing my muscles in a misguided effort to stop groaning. To be stretched by a large penis felt incredibly pleasurable.
He continued to pound me harder despite my embrace. The force of his thrusts caused the table to tremble. I urgently tried to hear if someone was standing outside the door. I then stopped caring and looked down once more. Any remaining humility I had was destroyed by the sight of his massive member entering me. I cried into his ear, pleading for him to empty his large cock. He appeared prepared from the gleam in his eyes. He wrapped his arm over my neck and continued to tap my pussy against the table. I briefly thought he might become stuck inside of me, but at the very last second, he pulled out. I encircled his dick with both of my hands as he moaned and poured his come onto my tummy and swollen breasts. Even worse, he was able to get some on my face.
Together, we fell to the table. He dragged himself up after a little more making out and brought me a clean towel. Five minutes after we had finished cleaning up as quickly as we could, we were back in the lobby. Then I turned to go after adding him to my phone. I looked at the receptionist as I passed the front desk to see if she had heard anything. I believe she did, based on the humiliated expression on her face. Since then, I haven’t had the confidence to return.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/y8o39x/the_best_orgasm_while_having_my_massage_23f_fm