In the rainy, storm gray September days that followed the fruition of all my most desirous fantasies coming true: I was a new man. Truly, I had coworkers and friends remark more than once about an “especially upbeat” me. I was like Peter Parker right after the spider bite.
“Just some good self care ” I would say, and then subsequently spend the rest of the work day trying not to replay my glorious, long awaited session with Marcy, and the tender moments after.
That fateful day, as I pieced together my outfit back on, still glowing but still sweaty from the encounter; she stepped out of the main floor of the studio to freshen up herself. Disappearing into the kitchen. Still only wearing her koi fish kimono, her breasts bouncing free from restraint and poking through. Her hair all sexed up. I smelled her THC pen, and heard her select a record and then start to spin it on the vintage turntable she used mostly as a surface to simply put succulents on. The opening riff of Band on the Runs album sounded through the walls, hushed soon by the spurting of a faucet.
She returned with a copper goblet of iced water for me. She held it up to my lips, coaxing it into my mouth with a smile. A seraphic servant.
“Can’t have you passing out on me”
Both teasing and caring, her voice and demeanor. Eyes seemingly always intense.
“I mean I already feel like I either already died and went to heaven or am in the middle of a fever dream or something” I joked.
Still, there was a tension, an awkwardness. The post nut clarity was as real as the pain of a nut punch, and as hot and as Penthouse Letters as that whole last half hour of my life was. She was still old enough to be my mom. An undeniable fact that cast a disheartening shadow across both of our elated and exhausted minds.
I remember dragging my feet, looking to her and to the door and back to her. I opened my mouth, then closed it again. Opened, closed. A friendship of years now, forever changed. I was caught in my usual deer in headlights stupor that’s caused by her piercing gaze-
“Look” She said, sighing and stepping forward.
“Don’t even think about saying “thank you” or anything other than “see you next time” mister.”
Laughing as she stretched out her arms to be entangled within mine- her kimono a cape; Marcy proceeded to grip both of my hands into hers after a moment of wordless communication. I melted into her, her eyes, her everything – the way she made me feel like sunlight seen through raging stormclouds. I pressed my tenting cock into the cove of her womanhood. She placed a hand on the back of my neck. We almost danced.
It’s funny, we could have the most animated wordy conversations about anything, but when it came to the undeniably intimate and intense relationship between the two of us- it was peaceful silence and ancient gestures.
“See you next time” I said.
It took everything I had to end the embrace. With both a sweet kiss on the cheek and a gratuitous ass grab for the road, one where I really gripped and shook- I left her waving and laughing in that doorway for the drive home.
That intense session would set the tone for the rest of the year, and also a tradition where I would go to be Marcy’s last appointment of the week, every week. The 6:30 – hour and a half slot on Fridays. Like clockwork from that September until this latest January.
My bank account is not proud of the expenditures of that stretch of time, but my heart, mind, soul and cock certainly is. Things were in general pretty good. I had settled into my job, my very first apartment. I took care of my cat and all other personal relationships. I had vowed to not get involved with another romantic relationship until ‘I had my shit together’ I looked at Marcy as a means of me getting my shit together.
She brought me more satisfaction and pleasure than any girl I ever took out to dinner ever did, anyways. But if I wasn’t working, working out, or binging netflix, I was probably daydreaming about my upcoming Friday evening.
I definitely wanted to keep seeing her, and while I knew it was mostly a no strings fling for fun and belt notch story purposes, part of me hoped that something more than the confines of her studio awaited us. Something romantic and grand. She was divorced, ex husband a military man. She mentioned going on a date a couple of times early in the first year, but that had fizzled out. He had started as a client, too, and as far as I know, is the only other client to ever gain access to Marcy’s intimacy. She had joked “All he had to do to get the kitty was buy me a Harley!” And that while he was sweet, she could “just not do that beard!”
I wanted to make her know I didn’t expect anything, never before or ever again. I wanted to spoil her, too. Her comment about the Harley inspired this. As well as have her know that I appreciated her on the scale of a true lover. The next time I saw Marcy, I was gonna go all out.
I amped up my workouts that week. Upped the calories per day. I sold two game systems I no longer used, and put those Ben Franklins right in the “to be used as a sugar daddy style tip even tho she really should be fucking with an actual daddy” jar.
I left work at the usual time, and drove the route that I could now do in my sleep carefully over freshly salted winter roads. In warmer weather I would have picked her up some fresh fruit from her favorite farm stand, but today I gathered an ornate bouquet of red and white roses from a flower shop, a whole collection of her favorite essential oils, and as the biggest simp cherry on top- I stopped by a mall that was halfway between us and got her a lovely, silver necklace that had the symbol of her zodiac sign on it- twin faces of the Gemini. As well as a handwritten card detailing all my thoughts on the situation, and poetic praise of who she was.
With all these wholesome intentions, as i pulled down the street and meandered through the alleyways to her small parking lot in my old subaru: I shot her a quick text.
Hey love, pulling up rn. Wanted to just chill tn, if that’s okay. Pay double to just just smoke and cuddle?
Parking the car, gathering the roses and gift bag my phone chimed;
Aquaeleven, promise me we don’t just smoke and cuddle (;
As usual, my worry was for naught. And as usual, my good, wholesome intentions got a whole lot less governing. I started to bulge as I crossed her porch. She swung open the door her usual, sexy way. As always, I was reminded of the summer day in which I first saw her through the doorway Smiling just the way she is now.
Vintage tan patagonia vest on that still didn’t hide how gigantic her subtly shaking breasts were, tribal bandanna in a rosie the riveter style across her messy bun. Skin still sunkissed in the height of winter. After all this time my jaw still dropped. She stood on the tiptoes of her uggs with a delighted countenance, then jogged out rushing to hug me on the porch.
“You did not! Seriously, this is too much!”
I threw an arm around her back, leading us both back into the sanctuary of her studio as she repeated over and over how sweet I was. Her head resting on my shoulder, shaking good-naturedly with a smile on her face in the direction of the gift bag and my noticeable, throbbing bulge. As soon as we were inside she had almost instantly procured a vase for the rose bouquet, placing it on the dresser right next to the massaging table.
“I’ll put ’em front and center, and tell everyone that they are from my favorite, best client”
I stared over to the bouquet, really a nice assortment of flowers, the vase a perfect base. She always had such a great eye for interior design. I smiled, and welcomed her in an embrace again, as she put her hands on my shoulders and looked up to me with a smile, us both leaning into the massaging table for support.
I raised an eyebrow and smiled wide. Leaning my head back to the ceiling in mock disbelief, I rolled my eyes back down to her bemused, and smitten expression.
“The truth comes out! All I am to you is just another lousy client, huh?”
In her most forward move yet, Marcy then directly gripped my cock, hard. I buckled and groaned, and in an immediate response I slapped her ass and pulled her close. After years of it simply being an elephant in the room, ignored, it was so satisfying to have her expert fingers finally work me over my jeans like it was nothing.
“Did you not hear me say favorite, or best, or…?”
Smooth, smoky voice trailed off, she stuck her tongue out playfully, which I quickly leaned into to greet with my own. I found out right there just how much Marcy loved to have her tongue sucked on.
The kiss was special, representative of how we both wanted to ramp up the passion. I continued to just rub my hands all over her ass, our kiss grew sloppy, moans came unannounced from the back of our throats. I palmed a big ass cheek in one hand while unzipping her vest with the other, as she extended her sports bra clad chest up to me, where I squeezed and pinched on her cleavage. Hands disappearing under the fabric to grab and shake each torpedo tit firmly.
With dexterity that honestly surprised me, while we were intertwined with one another, I was able to remove the necklace from the box in the bag, and since her hair was up, loop it around her neck easy. She paused when she felt the cool metal against her collar. A hand to her heart, blue eyes welling, she looked at the necklace and back to me after she realized what I had done.
“Seriously, Aqua, so thoughtful! I-”
From a hidden pocket within my coat I pulled forth the array of hundreds, which caught her eye too. She just looked back at me, any surprise now replaced by lust. She was used to me always paying generously, but this was a whole other level. Abruptly, I left my firm grip on her ass to sharply unzip her vest, and take it off with both hands, turning to put it on her nearby coat hanger.
“This is just a thank you, that’s all.”
“You say as you unzip my tits”
I couldn’t help but laugh, and I turned back and placed the money between her inviting mounds, right in the maroon sports bra, the bills poking out.
“Well, I did mention that I just wanted to talk and chill tonight, and since you’re used to doing your whole full body massage, I figured some compensation for an abrupt change in routine was needed”
She laughed into my chest and neck. Being tall had its perks sometimes. “You’re too good” she said. “You’re too good not to be too good to” I responded.
“So just smoke and cuddle, huh?”
I followed her swaying ass as she left for the kitchen and her storage closet. Returning with a dispensary made prerolled joint, and a heavy, arctic fur pelt I had never seen before, she winked at me as I began to undress.
Marcy was a muse, a living centerfold. Pulling off my leather jacket, ripping my laces undone on my boots, shimmying my pants off- I watched as she lit the candles and turned up the space heater. She fiddled with the settings and levers on the table and like a futon; whole extra feet of surface area for us both to lay on suddenly swung out and materialized, in which she then covered all with the large fur pelt.
She organized her oils and, and called back to me to select an album to put on her turntable. I instantly gravitated towards David Bowie’s “Low”
I left my boxers on, coincidentally the same shade of dark red as her bouncing sports bra. The spark of a lighter, the influx of smoke, she passed me the joint as she laid herself down on the table, kicking her uggs off, not breaking eye contact.
In the place where she gestured, I put the remaining contents of the gift bag. I stood right next to her shoulder, all nearly 9 inches of me fully out, so big and hard the elastic wasn’t even touching my lower stomach. Cock at her face level, hands on my hips, I watched with satisfaction as she opened the bag. The new oils got a “whoop” and a cheer. She looked back at my hardness, then up my body back to meet my gaze.
“Alright if I hadn’t already broken my code and let you fuck last time I definitely would have today” she said, her voice ringing with arousal and laughter.
“You know how much I love my lavender citronella”
She paused when she picked up the letter, remarked that she had never seen my handwriting before, her voice trailing off, smoke circulating up to the tree of life tapestry that adorned her cieling.
Opening the envelope with one hand and accepting the joint with the other, I settled down next to her.
Marcy had said that in her bisexual relationships in the past, that she was the dom one. I always saw little signs of this, but never anything like how she positioned me to cuddle. Freckled arm looping me down, pressing my face right against her tits, legs interlocked so her knee could caress my cock slowly and gingerly as we talked. I laid on her chest, and instantly gave her cleavage soft kisses.
She was unwavered however, reading my letter to her with an implacable look on her face, taking long drags from the joint and bopping her head to bowie.
The letter was eloquent and personal, explaining how she inspired my physical and emotional growth, and contained an eloquent, stream of consciousness portion where I went into loving detail about all the things I loved about her. From the things as obvious as her big perfect tits to the fact that her cell ring tone was “Just a Friend” by Biz Mar kie. It ended with me always wishing her the absolute best.
Before she was even finished reading, she had snuck a hand under my briefs and slowly had started to give me a teasing handjob, absentmindedly, as she read. Loose, she turned her hand across my length over and over, shaking the table slightly.
I moaned and buried my face deep in her breasts, pulling her bra down so her tits were completely out, and started sucking on her nipples.
Her speed increased, grip grew stronger, really starting to just beat it. Marcy then slid the letter underneath the rose vase with steady grace in her other hand, before grabbing me by the neck to meet her lips for a passionate kiss.
I moaned into her mouth and bit her bottom lip, but before I could work my way up her chin to whisper what I wanted next in her ear; she began her descent down towards my flexing cock.
Bathing me with her silken hair, she kissed and licked, bit and spit her way down my chest, abs, and torso. Slowly, she slid my boxers off and revealed me standing tall. She threw her hair back like a cover model as she crossed between my legs, ass a perfect summit behind her. Flashing me a radiant smile and tossing a lock of hair behind her shoulder, she gripped the base of my cock firmly. Her blue eyes twinkling. She spit right on the head, before bringing her pursed lips to the same spot the spit splattered over, running her roving tongue all around the now red head of my cock, before working her way with excessive slobber all the way down to my balls, which she licked in totality, with a whirlpool motion of her tongue, over and over. Moaning, she even lifted them up delicately and gave my ass a few licks before returning to run her tongue all over me again.
Marcy knew how to give head. She knew when to do this pornstar routine, when to gag and pop up for air and to wink with her lustful eyes. To be as kinky as I was comfortable with, expanding my sexual comfort zones.
She also knew when to take it slow, to simply palm the shaft and softly lick, eyes large and deceptively innocent. Pausing to slap my cock against her cheek a couple times, blowing me a kiss as I smacked her face with my throbbing curved length.
Those two styles came together as she plopped back from my head, and using her gratuitous spit as lube, she jerked me expertly right onto her pursed out lips and waiting face.
I’ll never forget the ropes splattering her forehead, running tributaries between her eyes and nose- laying in like war paint, hot and white and distinct against her rosy freckles and tan skin.
Or how she had moaned and cooed as my load made landfall.
I reached up to wrangle her hair in a pony tail, and brought her back up to me forcefully, only to playfully then give her some paper towels to dry off.
She rubbed my chest as she left for the bathroom to clean herself off.
“I think the joint is still lit!” She called out from behind the door.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/jcmtvd/marcy_the_milf_masseuse_vol_2_mf_long_intimate
That’s some of the best I’ve ever read