About three months ago, I was involved in a car accident. I was getting onto the interstate highway late one night when I saw a four car accident in front of me in the left hand lane. I came to a stop and was waiting for a chance to pass the accident, but the cars were flying by in the right hand lanes. While I was looking in my rear view mirror, I saw another car coming onto the highway at full speed from the on-ramp.I was rear-ended and my car was totaled, and I suffered some whiplash as a result. My fiancé came to pick me up and bring me home. The next morning I felt nauseous and had a headache, and my neck and arms hurt. After waiting six hours in the emergency room with my fiancé, a friend of my fiancé who works at that hospital, and her husband, the CAT scan showed no major injuries. However, I had a concussion and sustained some whiplash.
My health insurance hadn’t started yet at my new job (of course the accident was just about three days before it became effective!) Luckily, I was not at fault in the accident and I would be putting in a claim on the other driver’s automobile insurance. Once my health insurance did kick in, my fiancé suggested I visit her primary care physician, who is a female doctor at another local hospital. So I scheduled a follow up appointment with her the next week.
My pain from the accident had pretty much subsided. I filled out the paperwork when I got to the hospital with my fiancé after leaving work early, and the woman at the front desk showed me to the examination room, where she told me to take off my shirt. I sat on the exam table topless and with my work dress pants on.
I wasn’t surprised by how attractive the doctor was when she walked in (my fiancé used to be attracted to women, and one of her lesbian friends who is a nurse at the same facility had recommended her...) The doctor is an Asian women who seemed to be in her late thirties, very slim, dark brown hair. The first thing I noticed was her mid-thigh length black skirt, black pantyhose and black heels. The next thing I looked for was a wedding ring – which she did have.
The doctor sat down on a chair in the examination room and asked me my health history. She had a slight accent, but she sounded like she had learned English very well. She asked who referred me, and I told her “my fiancé” who was in the waiting room.
As she was asking me these questions, all I could do as I answered was stare at her legs, which were crossed as she sat in the chair.
“Oh yes I know her. When are you two getting married?” she asked as she looked up from her paperwork.
I looked up from her legs into her dark eyes. “This fall” I answered.
She gave me a sweet smile as she said “that’s nice” and then returned her gaze to the form she was filling out.
Her skirt rode up her thighs a bit as her legs were crossed, exposing more of her luscious stocking clad legs, which started to get me a bit excited. Her heel covered foot bounced slightly during her questioning, as if she knew she was teasing me! I felt my cock start to stir inside my boxer briefs and dress pants.
After the initial questioning, she stood up and came over to me to take my blood pressure. The strap was cold as she slid it around my bare left arm. She pumped the strap tighter around me and began to read my blood pressure.
“You seem a bit nervous” she asked as she looked at the reading.
“Uh…yes….I am….” I said. Did my voice just crack? I cleared my throat and tried to explain. “I haven’t had health insurance in five years….” I was making an excuse for being so excited as I stole another glance down at her stocking covered leg, which was just inches from my left leg dangling off the examination table.
“That’s better…” she said. My blood pressure must have gone down, since I was concentrating very hard on not being so turned on by my doctor. My cock started to return to it’s natural resting state in my boxerbriefs.
The doctor briefly felt my back where I said I felt sore. She said I seemed fine, and just to take some extra strength Tylenol if I felt any pain. I was surprised I didn’t get a more thorough examination for being in such a major accident, but I figured “she’s the doctor” and accepted her diagnosis. She said to schedule a full physical in a month or so and said goodbye, leaving me to put on my shirt.
We walked together to the waiting room, where the doctor said hello to my fiancé before I left.
I had also scheduled an appointment with a naturopathic doctor (yet another suggestion from my fiancé, who had met the doctor and his wife…) The naturopathic doctor suggested I get some massage for the sore neck and back.
“Getting someone’s hands on you is the best way to work through this” he told me.
I agreed, and immediately envisioned some gorgeous masseuse working on my back and neck. And I would get the other guy’s insurance to pay for it!
The doctor suggested a place for me to get worked on cheaply: by students at a massage school who need to get a lot of practice hours under their belts, but I didn’t write down the name of the school, and I forgot once I left his office.
I took some Tylenol for a while, and whatever pain remained seemed to go away.
But about a month later, I was stupid enough to try and carry a heavy load down the stairs at work and suffered a relapse of my initial concussion as my foot hit the first stair on the way down to the basement, which was slightly lower than the rest of the stairs. I felt nauseous and had a headache again, and my neck and arms hurt just like the morning after my accident.
I went back to my male naturopathic doctor, who did some acupuncture, gave me some cream for my neck, and wrote down the name of that massage school for me to check out. I also went back with my fiancé to my sexy primary care physician for her opinion.
As I sat in another exam room alone, waiting for the doctor again with my shirt off and my dress pants on, I wasn’t so interested in what she would be wearing this time around. Okay maybe I was, but I was also genuinely concerned and worried about my health, and the recurrence of my concussion. She entered the room, and seemed to be more moderately dressed. Maybe because she stood (instead of starting off sitting)
during our conversation, my eyes weren’t drawn to her delicious legs during this visit.
“How long do you think this will happen?” I asked her.
“It depends…” she said evasively.
“What should I do to prevent this sort of thing?” I was getting more concerned about her treatment plan.
“Well…we can recommend some physical therapy…” she said as she started to write out a prescription.
“What does that entail? It is like massage?” I asked, as I wasn’t exactly sure what physical therapy meant. I imagined getting her to give me some physical therapy, perhaps even a full body massage.
“No it is more intensive…” she said as I pictured her intensely riding my cock.
“Oh…ok…” I said.
She recommended six visits to the physical therapist at their facility, and described it as “more vigorous exercise”.
“If you need more than six, you can let me know” she said. I’d like a lot more from you, I thought as I thanked her and she ended the appointment.
As I headed toward the waiting room, the doctor smiled slyly and told me to say “hello” to my fiancé for her. When I paid for the follow-up, I also scheduled a regular full physical examination for the next month. I secretly looked forward to being completely naked for her. Would she enjoy seeing and feeling my balls? I would certainly enjoy the chance to show them to her in a professional setting.
The physical therapist I was assigned to turned out to be male. He showed me some stretching and exercises which really helped my back and neck. He also suggested I concentrate on my sitting posture. I only needed about five sessions with him before I felt like I was back to normal again.
In the meantime, while I was completely focused on doing everything possible to improve my health, I had tried calling the massage school my naturopathic doctor had recommended. But their hours were not compatible with my work schedule.
Luckily, my fiancé and I happen to live in an apartment complex where we knew a massage therapist who lives on the floor below us. About a year ago, my fiancé had asked me if I would ever want a massage, and if I would want to be worked on by a guy or a girl.
“A girl!” I exclaimed. “I don’t want no guy rubbing me!” I told her jokingly.
My fiancé just laughed (we had visited one of her old friends in California who is a gay male massage therapist who is quite successful in his legitimate practice….)
So I told my fiancé I was going to try her out (my fiancé had gone to this massage therapist the other year when her back was hurting her…) The massage therapist also happens to be quite sexy, in a different way than my leggy Asian female doctor. My fiancé had asked me a long time ago if I thought the massage therapist was sexy.
“Not as sexy as my baby” I told her as I always did, to which she smiled as usual.
The truth was that I had been initially attracted to the massage therapist when she first moved into my building (this was two years ago, just as I had started dating my eventual fiancé, and I was living in the apartment complex by myself…) I saw her moving in, and was immediately infatuated with her large breasts. She always seemed to wear shirts that emphasized her breasts, not necessarily her cleavage, but the fact that they were so ample. They were quite full and seemed to beg to be
massaged themselves. My mouth would water as I would run into her in the hallway or the elevator or the mailroom, and I would make small talk, imagining sucking on those sweet, full, round tits. Her voice was always low and silky, sultry and confident, as I am sure her hands would be during a massage.
Our building manager had even thought about setting me up on a date with the massage therapist back then, since we were both single and in our twenties at the time (my fiancé is in her thirties…) But I told the building manager that I had started seeing someone, and the building manager told me she thought the massage therapist wouldn’t have been right for me anyways (she went so far as to describe her as “a bitch!”) I never saw that quality in her, but I was intrigued as to why my building manager described her that way. Was she too “high maintenance”? Was she someone who wanted to be in control? Would she dominate me? I left this to fantasy, until this chance came up that I needed to seek out massage from her.
The other year the massage therapist had started a relationship with a guy who lives in our complex, a big, conservative type guy who I never really clicked with or understood her attraction to. But my fiancé and the massage therapist had become friends, going to clothing swap parties and potluck dinners and the like. So we already had her email address on our shared email account addressbook.
When my fiancé was writing to the massage therapist one night, I added a paragraph at the bottom of the email, explaining my situation and asking about her schedule for the next week. She replied with her availability and times for the length of massages she offered (30, 45, 60 and 90 minutes). I decided to go for a 90 minute massage on an evening when my fiancé had to work late.
A day or two before the scheduled massage, she called my cell phone and left a message in her sultry voice reminding me about the time, and to plan on being there for two hours, since I had to fill out all the initial paperwork. I was excited about the whole process.
The morning of the appointment, my fiancé told me to leave my underwear on during the massage.
“Why?” I asked.
“Well…you can do whatever you want…” she said and left the conversation like that.
“Okay I’ll leave them on” I said to make her happy.
That evening after work, I made sure I had on clean black cotton boxerbriefs under my work clothes, and that I had fresh deodorant and cologne before I went downstairs to the massage therapist’s apartment (her boyfriend’s apartment was just down the hall on my floor…) I brought my briefcase with notes from my various doctors and physical
therapist. Was I actually nervous? No I am going to be fine, she is a professional, nothing to worry about!
“She will put me at ease” I thought. I calmed down as I knocked on the door. She answered with a sweet smile and welcomed me inside. She was wearing her usual light colored tight t-shirt which fit snugly to her amazing breasts, and a pair of dark workout pants which looked like a second skin around her curvy ass. Damn she was sexy! I sat at her kitchen table and she brought me some water as we talked about my
accident and treatments. I needed that drink, as my mouth was watering imagining what was under that tight outfit (though it didn’t leave much to be imagined!)
She asked me what sort of music and candle scents I preferred. I selected “ocean sounds” and “mango” scented candles. She went to work setting this up as I filled out all of her forms: medical history, diagrams of where my neck and back hurt. The sun had set and it was dark in the apartment, the candles set a romantic mood with the waves crashing softly in the background.
The diagram of the body showed a front and back view of a naked man. I was tempted to put “X”s around my cock and balls so she would work on them too, but I just highlighted my neck and back. There was also a form which explicitly stated that this massage was “non-sexual”, that I would be “draped at all times”, it differed from a “massage parlor” etc. which I had to sign and date. “Of course! She is a licensed massage therapist” I thought.
After this process, which took about a half hour, she asked if I had to use the restroom.
“No” I said.
“Okay” she said as she led me to the bedroom of the apartment, which had been converted into her massage studio. The scent of the mango candles had filled the room, and the massage table was made up neatly with sheets and blankets folded over.
“I tell all of my clients to remove as much clothing as you are comfortable with, so you can leave on whatever you wish” she said. I smiled as I remembered my promise to my fiancé (“keep your underwear on” she had said).
“I’ll leave the room and go to the bathroom. You can get on the table, under the covers, and lie on your stomach. I’ll knock when I get back before I enter. I’m going to spend the majority of my time on your back and neck, since those are your ‘trouble spots’, but you will get a full massage since we have 90 minutes. Okay? Any questions?” she asked. I said “no” as she smiled before she left and closed the door.
As I looked at her diploma from massage school on the wall, I stripped down to my black cotton boxerbriefs (keeping my promise to my fiancé) and got up on the massage table. The sheets were incredibly soft (like an old, well worn t-shirt). There was a pillow on the mattress where my legs would be, and my face was in one of those massage-table “cradles” with the hole in the middle so I could breathe as I faced the floor and my chin and cheeks would be supported with a comfy pillow covering.
The massage therapist knocked and asked if I was ready. I grunted from my face-down position for her to come in. She asked if I needed her to adjust the face cradle, I said “yes could you move it up a bit?” She said “sure” and moved it into place.
I looked at the carpeted studio floor though the cradle and closed my eyes as the sounds of the waves crashing on the shore drifted in from the next room. She explained how she does not use oils for her massage, just lotions, so that I would not feel gross when it was finished. Funny, I thought, I uses lotions when I jerk-off thinking about scenarios such as this with clothed females and nude males!
She smoothed the sheet over my shoulders and walked around my body, pressing on me briefly at various intervals down the right side of my body and up the left side through the sheets. Her pressure was just for a few seconds on my back, then a little lower, then by my upper thigh near where my boxerbriefs ended. Could she feel them through the sheets? Was she disappointed that I kept them on?
She continued down my right leg, and up my left leg, to my back again. Then she drew back the sheet, exposing my upper body to my waist. She folded the sheet just about where my black boxerbriefs started. Well, she must know I am not naked now, I thought.
I heard her pump some lotion into her hands, and felt that first magic touch on the left side of my back. She started standing on my left side, with brief light pressure by my shoulder, and worked quickly in short strokes down the left side of my back to the bottom. I nearly gasped when I felt her fingertips side under the waistband of my boxerbriefs!
“Oh my God! What is happening?” I thought.
She proceeded to start her focus of the evening on the lower left side of my back, at the base of my spine, by the left “dimple” above my ass (which was only exposed because she had succeed in moving the waistband of my boxerbriefs down about three inches to expose both “dimples”.) She seemed to be using that as the center of the circle where she kept her thumbs. She would extend her fingertips, and indeed it seemed all four fingers of her hands, pushing under the already re-positioned waistband and into my boxerbriefs, massaging the top of my left asscheek deeply.
She worked her palm as far as she could reach around my waist, nearly to my crotch, only ending her search when her hand was stopped where my left leg was touching the massage table.
As she was putting this pressure on my lower left side, it truly seemed like she was trying to reach into my boxerbriefs, underneath my body, towards where my cock was coming to life under the weight of my body. I couldn’t believe my luck! This sexy woman with lotioned hands is rubbing the top of my asscheek underneath my boxerbriefs!
I kept silent with my eyes closed enjoying this situation. After focusing on this highly erotic and arousing region, she moved to stand at the top of the table my head. I couldn’t see anything outside of my cradle when I opened my eyes, except the floor, so I closed them again. She pumped some more lotion into her hands, and started both hands sliding slowly down the length of my back, starting at my shoulders.
I couldn’t imagine how she was reaching so far down my body, since both hands were just about at my boxerbriefs again. She must be bending completely over my body! Those delicious tits must be inches from touching my back, I thought, as both hands reached the waistband of my boxer briefs, and her fingers kept going underneath!
She must have reached as far as she could, bending over my body, standing by my head, as her hands applied pressure to the bottom of my spine. Her fingers once again massaged the tops of my asscheeks underneath my boxerbriefs, her hands parting and going down each side of my waist. She might have looked at the diagram I made for her, but right now she seemed to just want to get a feel of my ass!
Just as I was starting to get more excited, she seemed to decide to really focus on the left side of my back properly, applying more lotion and digging in deep, even using her elbows to apply pressure. My cock went back to sleep as she really worked on my back and neck muscles, which were quite painful, and I realized I was hurt more than I thought.
But when she moved over to my right side, she started out again like she had on the left. Her focus again was on the base of my spine, now by the right “dimple” above my ass. Again she seemed to be using that as the center of the circle where she kept her thumb, extending her fingertips into my boxerbriefs, massaging the top of my right asscheek, working her palm around and down my waist nearly to my crotch.
TO BE CONTINUED...
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Posted by ATCFNM at 3:18 PM