The Tunisian [M]asseuse and Me [F] — (Part 1)

Many years ago, while working in the hospitality industry as a Hotel inspector, I was assigned to go to Tunisia in northern Africa.

I was working long hours — 16 hours a day, trying to open a hotel in time for tourist season.

I didn’t speak Arabic or French or have a work permit, but I’d been sent there by my employer to ensure that our hospitality standards were upheld properly.I’d been there for ~4 months, and hadn’t been on a date for just as long.

Just work, work, and more work.

I was so exhausted each night after work that I didn’t even have the energy to masturbate, despite being horny.

As a hotel inspector, part of my job was to ensure all services were up to par — and the best way to do that is to actually use the same services available to tourists — and so, I finally got around to booking myself a massage.

I took the last appointment of the night, which was around 8:00pm.

The masseuse worked out of a enclosed, private hut (a bit like [this](https://i.imgur.com/z87tKiz.jpg)) by poolside.

He was a swarthy, slightly balding, medium-build man — and after greeting me, he invited me to disrobe as he stepped out to give me a moment of privacy.

I was exhausted & looked forward to finally unwinding and relaxing.

I stripped to my white lace panties & slid between the sheets on the massage table.

When he returned, he began to massage and work on my shoulders — and out of sheer bliss, I let out an involuntary moan — an audible indication that whatever he was doing was working.

As he worked his way down my arms and across my back, I realized I wasn’t falling asleep as I’d expected I would, like normally.

My body was alert and expectant.

I became acutely aware of how deprived I’d been of touch.He slowly worked his way over my feet… then up to each calf…

He didn’t rush.

It was slow, and patient… then he reached my thighs.

I was breathing heavy & felt the discomfort rising… as I realized my body’s involuntary response(s) to being touched so intimately were difficult to mask.

As he smoothly caressed my hips, his fingers glided under the lace of my panties on each cheek.I was practically lifting my hips to meet his hands.

I must have made some noise, as the security guard right outside asked if everything was okay.

I said “Yes, everything is fine” to put him at ease, as I flushed with embarrassment.

After all, I was sure I was just projecting & nothing was amiss on the part of the masseuse — if anything, I may have been the one misbehaving.

Surely, a *professional masseuse* wouldn’t cross any boundaries with a corporate executive like myself — would he? — I asked myself, as I settled into relaxing and receiving again.

He kept focusing on my hips & sacrum.

Luckily I was face down and muffled my mouth against my arm in an attempt to damp any involuntary moans I might exert.

As he slowly kneaded & stroked me I let go and opened even wider.

His finger tips lightly traced the edges of my only garment…

By the time his finger slid under the tiny lace triangle covering my pussy I was soaking wet.

The stroking continued as I bit into my arm and my whole body shuddered.

And then he had me turn over…

(To be continued…)

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/y978ri/the_tunisian_masseuse_and_me_f_part_1