Rewrote sections of this story following some recommendation. Thanks for all the feedback.
I was about six months into the hobby with no real luck. Several tease spots, a couple diy places later, which were fun but hugely disappointing, I was just about ready to give up the hobby. Most of the massages were too crappy to even justify spending even half the house price for what I could do myself for free. Lucky for me though, I only needed to give it one more shot to find the right place.
I was headed back home from a week out of town visiting friends, without enough alone time I was all kinds of pent up and frustrated, and just couldn’t get the idea of a massage out of my head. A couple hours into my drive and I am fully back in, convinced by my consistent half-chub to give it one more go. One more and that’s it. Stopped for lunch and did a little research for possibilities along my route. A few places seemed interesting, and close to the right thing, but the websites honestly looked too good to be the right place, until I stumbled on a place that may have literally just opened. The map’s listing wasn’t complete, just a phone number and the right kind of photos added to the page two days prior. I was only about an hour out and just felt right. I hit the road and called half to confirm a spot and half to make sure they were open. An Asian woman answered, and sounded excited when I said I would be there in an hour. I drive ion more excited, determined, and turned on more than ever going in.
The place was in a pretty big shopping center, so it was easy to be at ease and unnoticed walking in. A cute and fit Asian woman, probably mid 30s if I had to guess, greeted me with “you called? 2 o’clock?” I most of her face was covered with a yellow medical mask, but she had pretty eyes and hair done up in a messy bun. Some sleeveless athleisure top and turquoise blue yoga plants, all kinds of cute but petite for sure at 5”2’ max.
I responded with a simple, “yep that’s me.” She quickly ushered me back to a room without any discussion or prepaying, the exception as far as my experience. We seemed to be the only ones there as it was quiet and the rest of the doors we walked past were open and empty.
“Thirty minutes? One hour?”
“The hour”
“Lay down,” she said nodding and gesturing to the table and leaving me to the room.
I undressed quickly and completely, finding myself at full sails and heart racing from the anticipation. Laid down, shifted him between my legs, and placed the still folded sheet just hardly over my ass. It felt like a long wait, but couldn’t have been much more than a minute. My heart slowed, my boner chilled to half mast, and I sank into relaxation, ready for this one last shot.
I prepped how I might play it cool when she walked in, but all those ideas proved unwarranted as she walked in, closed the door, and immediately threw the sheet off my ass and onto the floor. I could only smile knowing this was it. She quickly worked over my back with a quick coat of oil and walked up to stand over my head, working my shoulders. I let a hand glide from dangling off the side to wandering up to lightly brush her thigh. Turning my head asking, “this ok?.”
“Uh huh,” she mumbled through her mask.
I let my hands wander higher until I had a handful of her ass. “This ok?”
“Uh huh,” she said through a little chuckle this time. And I had the green light. My hands wandered all over while she worked my shoulders, back, and neck. It wasn’t much of an ass, but my goodness it was nice.
She walked out of my reach to go work my lower half a bit. I had no reservations at this point, so I spread my legs and lifted my hips a bit as she made her first passes over my sacrum. She was pretty good too, no hard elbows grinding into me, just good pressure from her hands. When I shifted my legs, she let out in a hushed tone, “oh. You bad boy?”
It took me a moment, but I chuckled in response, “I could be.”
She continued working me, moving down to my thighs letting her fingers wander way too far between my legs as she applied up and down my thighs. As she switched sides of the table I shifted my legs a little wider, and, as she began to touch me again I arched my back lifting my hips fully off the table the slightest bit, but just the right amount. It didn’t escape her, as she reacted with a cheeky and accurate statement, “you are bad boy.” To which I could only laugh.
She gave my legs a few cursory passes before beginning on my inner thighs. I gave her positive feedback for that, an “ooh I like that,” and a few gentle moans as she began to press higher and closer. Her hand slipped closer , almost all the way to the crease of my buttocks as she gripped my flesh. I could feel her take small pauses each time leaving her hand between my legs just a beat longer, I moaned response each time her hand inched towards my crotch. After what felt like an age of the best teasing and foreplay of my life, her fingers brushed against my balls.
They were lifted just ever so slightly off the table as she brushed past them, and I let out a longer moan in reaction, and a muffled yet verbal, “yes,” I word I still echo thinking about it. My hips lifted a bit higher, almost of their own will. She brushed up all the way along my leg a few times, her fingers curling almost to my hip flexors taking long pauses to press her fingertips firmly into the front of my tights at the top of her motion. I can’t say it was a surprise. but she gave a final upward stroke, letting her hand rest against me for a long while and as she pulled her hand back let her fully open hand cup my balls and in one quick motion reached around and past them to grip my downward facing cock and began to lightly stroke.
Now I’m not going to claim to be the biggest guy and can only claim a few hands that have grabbed my cock in such a manner, but I can say for sure that in all my life, my cock has never felt bigger than it did in the gentle touch of her soft petite hand. All I could do is let out an audible gasp.
She began to work my cock back towards her facing fully straight down. Her strokes felt incredible after such a tease, but I wanted more space, so I pushed myself fully into a downward dog-like pose, my cock hanging in easy access to be milked, and milk she did. She piled up more and stroked and a slowed but consistent pace on my now rock hard cock. The fingertips of her other hand lightly danced across the tingling skin of my sack, tickling the freshly grown back hairs along the loose flesh. I can honestly say that I had a sign I can’t concern that upon receiving the coveted job, that I might simply explode instantly, not wholly unfounded fears, yet to my surprise, I was lasting several minutes in this position, and even as she began to quicken her pace. Despite my best efforts, however, I could feel myself approaching that edge. I had simultaneously thought of not wanting to bust all over the table, and not wanting to bust yet.
I rode it out as long as I felt I safely could, drinking in the bliss, before turning a half turn to her and asking to flip over. I was a bit taken aback when quickly released me, said something intelligible and left the room. Left a little perplexed and very hard. It wasn’t as long as it seemed before she returned with a towel to rinse my back, washed me clean and flipped me over.
Now I know the flip is where all the fun is supposed to start, and I rather beat that to the punch, but I can still attest that the flip was still where the fun really began. Being face down just soaking in the pleasure is nice, but getting to watch her work; looking into her eyes as she gazed at my swollen member is what the chase is for. She worked me up and down, her soft hand sliding across my entire length while the other reached down under my tight sack, delicate fingertips performing a careful dance of pleasure across my testicles. Her hand floated across my body on a whim, from my sack, to fingertips grazing along my thighs, to gently pushing lightly through my pubic hair with the slightest of pressure into my pubis. Her hand alternated this path throughout, all the while her right was devoted solely to those long, slow, but consistent strokes.
While she worked, my hand found its way back to her ass, exploring her inner thighs, feeling her heat between her legs even through her pants. My fingertips now lightly grazing, and firmly pressing into her soft skin. She spread her legs a bit. I was able to push a bit more, taking in the pleasure of her body to last a bit longer. It wasn’t like I could time myself, and for sex it would have been a disappointing length of time, but I feel, that in the hand of an experienced practitioner dedicated solely to making me cum. I think I did pretty well, and was by far satisfied enough by the time I gave myself over to the irresistible pleasure she offered.
The little squelching sounds that filled the room delicately rang out just slightly more as she quickened her pace. Her grip taking my length in one swift movement each time, but now each upward stroke finished with a flourish, a counterclockwise twist of the tip. My legs fell into a butterfly, squirming at this newly unveiled technique. I felt my body approaching that unmistakable pressipis, now embracing each inch towards it. No effort to delay, it quite simply was in her capable hands.
I could only mutter a low, “almost,” meant as a warning, yet it proved to be the final signal flair. She shifted to a now rabid pace, her whole arm moving quickly and with power.
She machine-gunned out Five more strokes: Perfect lubrication providing her no resistance along my glistening cock.
Five more strokes: Her grip tightened.
Five more strokes: her left hand pressed firmly into my abdomen.
Five more strokes: my legs quivered and shook Uncontrollably.
Five more strokes: I let out a final breath and held it there biting my lip. I felt my body push past the point of no return, and let my mind linger there. It was second, maybe two, certainly no more than three, that time between the inevitability of an orgasm and its arrival. The time where it feels like endless pleasure and let the pleasure hasn’t even begun, and perhaps the most crucial moments of any orgasm. A wrong move here, her arm tires, or she simply stops, hangs it up and quits, and it is ruined. A good and well worth it experience for still, but these are the moments that will make the difference between “good enough” and “mind altering” pleasure. She far exceeded the goal.
One final stroke: so many things happened at once as the final stroke pushed me over that ledge. A stifled groan pushed out of my lungs involuntarily and irrepressible. The rush of hormonal pleasure rushed over my whole body, like a warm wave crashing over me, in my fingers, toes, down my spine, and in the back of my head. The sense of ecstasy filled every muscle and nerve across my whole body. I felt her continuing to stroke me, not letting up her rabid pace even as I exploded in orgasm, yet easing down to a slow but consistent pace which continued through my body’s natural convulsions and for some time after. I heard some indistinct sound escape from behind her mask. Whether out of shock, amazement, or satisfaction it is impossible to say, but what a joyful noise it was to my ears.
I experienced all of this in the singular moment of that final stroke, one impossible to distinguish among many but most significant of them all. Each of these sensations that washed over my body only followed the exact reaction of my body to that final stroke of pleasure. The muscles of my ejaculatory chain constricted and the chambered round of white hotness fired off into the air above me like the explosive launch of an artillery shell.
The instantly reloaded shots of the following rounds were covered, caught and deflected as her spare hand knowingly slipped over top of my pulsating penis. Built up, backed up, worked up, I was set up for one of the best orgasms of my life, and my god did she deliver, continuing that rhythmic motion up and down my shaft throughout every aftershock, unceasing until we both felt me begin to soften in her grasp. I could only rest in post bliss as she cleaned me up, a big stupid grin on my face. I had plenty of time to reflect as I watched her wipe away my mess with a tissue, making all those little cheeky comments that, I suppose, are meant to empower and masculinize me. “Wow! So much” for as much as I knew the tactics, it did work. Filling me with pride as I eased back into relaxation.
I couldn’t mark how long it had been, but I still had a good deal of the massage left, guessing at least thirty minutes, plenty of time to reflect and enjoy. No rushed me out the door or ending once the job was done; she simply tossed a small towel over just my now flaccid member and floated me back into relaxational bliss. A neck massage caressing my head in her hands as her fingers danced their way across the base of my skull. Satisfied, moving down to a foot massage, no doubt presuming to end there. She was good too, the best of her purely therapeutic skills for sure. As she worked my feet, I emptied my mind, truly falling into relaxation, and time passed. Not all our time yet it would seem but enough time. Time for me to rest, relax, and more of all recover. As she expertly pressed the soreness and fatigued out of my tired feet, I felt that little towel carelessly tossed over my cock begin to rise. Opening my eyes I looked down at her, and she was looking up at me. Our eyes met across the now rhythmically ascending white towel rising into the air with the beat of my heart, and both couldn’t help but utter a knowing laugh.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/z4if6g/mf_finally_blessed_with_a_happy_ending