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Although this story DOES go off-topic from a CFNM situation at the very end, everything leading up to that point is so well-described I felt compelled to post it. Feel free to stop reading at the starred portion if you wish to only take in the CFNM story. Enjoy!!
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People always misjudge me when they first meet me. Truthfully, some misjudge me even after they've known me for a while. I'm really not surprised by this though. Appearances, as they say, can be deceiving. It's not surprising that people think I'm the kind of guy that's screwing everything in sight. Not to brag, but I've got the looks for it. A little over six feet tall with a broad, very muscular frame, wavy brown hair that's always well-kept, and even when it gets messy tends to fall in ways that I have to admit are not unflattering. My eyes are a deep green that I know I've found striking the few times I've seen it in someone else's face, and my face has got features that are chiseled enough that I've been asked on more than one occasion if I've ever considered modeling. And, I admit, I spend way too much time in the gym. I'm a pretty easy-going guy, and I've never had trouble talking to and making friends with women. Of course, those last two are the start of where people misjudge me.
Everyone assumes that my time in the gym is spent out of vanity, a certain flair for the narcissistic. They don't know I use it as an outlet for my frustrations; that I find a couple of hours of working out a catharsis, and the sculpted body I've developed was the side effect rather than the goal. They tend to assume that being able to hold a conversation translates easily into getting a date. For most guys, it probably would. For me, although I'm well acquainted with the kinds of conversation that will make me friends, I never know how to move things from friendly banter to asking a girl out. It's worked against me for years, the last steady girlfriend I had was in my last year of college, and it wasn't a serious enough relationship that either of us changed our after-graduation plans. She went to grad school on the other side of the country, I went to work. We haven't exchanged more than Christmas cards and the occasional friendly e-mail since. I hadn't even dated anyone more than once or twice in the last 2 years. I digress though. The story of my romantic troubles is long, boring, and frustrating. The story of how that long dry spell ended is much more interesting.
It started with a favor for a friend. The friend happened to be female, but that isn't directly relevant, because she was also about 40 years older than me. Mrs. Clark, a widow who, though her husband has been dead 10 years now, insists on being called Mrs, not Miss, not Ms.. She lived next door to me for 2 years, and we were on friendly terms, although after the third niece she tried to set me up with proved equally dull, I was forced to put a blanket ban on blind dates in effect. Having reached her retirement though, Mrs. Clark was taking her savings and moving to a place that was cheaper, with better weather, and had the added advantage of being down the block from her son and grandkids. But she needed help moving her furniture out, and yours truly was called in to do the heavy lifting.
After a day full of that, I was exhausted, and after I closed the back of the U-haul she'd rented I sat down on her stoop to take a breather. A minute or two later, Mrs. Clark came out and handed me a tall glass of ice water, which was exactly what I needed at that moment. As I guzzled it down, she sat next to me and hugged me. As she spoke, I noticed an envelope in her hand, and figured that she was going to try to pay me. I prepared myself to hand most of the money back to her, I knew her well enough to know she'd try to give me well over the 40 bucks we'd agreed on (remember, I was doing this mainly as a favor).
"I can't thank you enough, David. I don't know what I would have done without you." She said this in that perpetually cheery voice of hers, then added, holding the envelope out to me "I've got a little something for your troubles here. I figured you could use it after today."
I was confused at that point, it's not something you'd say if you're about to hand someone cash in most cases. Setting the glass down on the stoop, I opened the envelope. Inside was the 40 dollars, and a coupon. Well, a gift certificate technically. The top of the coupon was marked with the name of a rather upscale spa just across the street from the gym I go to. It was marked, "Valid for one (1) one hour full-body massage session. Cannot be exchanged or redeemed for cash." It was signed with a man's name, Charlie, written in English as well as marked with a few Chinese characters.
Mrs. Clark went on to say, "Charlie's the greatest, I've been going there once a month for years. My little treat to myself. Now, no buts! It's right there on the coupon, I can't return it, and I won't be around to use it, so you'll just have to." I gave her a wry grin, she'd anticipated my objection before I could give it. I'd never had a full body massage, but I knew they weren't cheap. And, I admit, I was less than thrilled at the prospect of having a guy have his hands all over me for an hour. But I was tired, my muscles were all sore, and I was thoroughly outmaneuverd, so I caved in, didn't argue, and said my farewells to Mrs. Clark.
I made the appointment that day to go see Charlie, and, I admit, I was hooked after the first session. Charlie was this little Chinese man who looked like he was about a hundred and five years old, but had the strongest grip I've ever felt. It turned out he was also the manager, and owner, of the spa, and most of the workers were in some way related to him. He put my fears at ease quickly, and, true to his word, gave the most soothing, relaxing, massage I've ever experienced. A small, strategically placed towel preserved my modesty throughout the massage, which did much to ease my mind.
That coupon from Mrs. Clark was only the first of many sessions with Charlie; I went about once or twice a month for a year and a half. I got into the habit of going to Charlie whenever I was overly sore after one of my gym sessions, and he managed to get rid of all the little twinges and aches that used to follow me around after an overly intense workout. We would chat as he worked, about subjects as far ranging as family and business, to world politics. I met several of the other men and women who worked at the spa, but my appointments were at a pretty regular time, so I only knew the ones who worked Saturday afternoons.
One day in the late fall, however, I broke with that regular routine. My job had given me the week off, sort of. Technically I was working from home, and so was the rest of the office, while the building was renovated. In reality, it was a week of paid semi-vacation for all of us. I knew that this gap in my work schedule was coming up, so I made my appointment with Charlie two weeks in advance for Wednesday evening. I was to be the last customer of the day, but it was always easier to get an appointment with him on a weekday than the weekend sessions that I (and apparently most of his other customers) favored.
I knew something was wrong as soon as I walked in. The normally cheerful atmosphere by the reception desk was unusually subdued, the two women working there were talking in low voices, in rapid Mandarin. When I walked in, they both looked up, seeming a little surprised to see me.
Breaking the silence that had fallen, I gave them a bright smile and said, "Ah, Hi. I had a 7:30 appointment with Charlie?" I expected to be lead to the massage room at that point. Instead, one of the woman, a matronly lady in her middle years, who I believed was one of Charlie's daughters, gave a very pained frown, flipped through a couple of pages in the appointment book, and looked at it.
She frowned again, then looked up and, sounding very serious said, "Oh... I'm sorry Mr. Brandt. We tried to contact you, but the house number we had for you must have been wrong. We did leave a message at your office...?"
She paused then, and I filled in, "Office has been closed all week, I didn't have a way to check the voicemail there."
She shook her head then and went on, "Well, I'm sorry to have to tell you, my father passed away last week."
Shock hit me, the way it always does from such an announcement, and I responded, "Charlie? I'm very sorry to hear that." It was more than pleasantries; I was genuinely going to miss the man, both the conversations and the massages.
She nodded, taking the words in the spirit they were meant, and said to me, "We do have someone taking his appointments, if you want." I hesitated, certain that whoever they had couldn't possibly have the experience or skill Charlie did.
Since this was a permanent situation, and Charlie hadn't just gone on vacation, I resigned myself to trying someone new. I nodded and said, "Alright."
Since I prefer to be able to just head home after the massage, I took a moment to pay beforehand. The other woman, a girl who I suspected was this woman's daughter, making her Charlie's granddaughter, lead me to the changing room. As I closed the door, she said to me, "When you're ready, just go to room two." I'd been coming here long enough to know where that was, although I'd never been in there. I disrobed, putting my belongings in a locker provided for that purpose, and slipped into one of the white terrycloth robes the spa provides. Making sure I was decent, since the robe was the only thing covering me, I headed to room 2.
I don't know what I expected to find when I walked into room 2, but the room itself was almost identical to Charlie's room. Same familiar massage table, same carpet, same color on the walls. The art on the walls was different, but that was about it. One thing was a big difference though. Actually, I'd say a huge one. In my year and a half getting massages from Charlie, I'd gotten used to having a male masseur. Once I'd gotten over my initial homophobic quailings, and realized that the massage given by a professional was a non-sexual thing, I'd realized that I was more at ease than I would have been with a woman. It was easier to put my massage and sex in two different places in my brain when the person doing one wasn't one I'd be interested in doing the other with. The person who was standing in the room ready to give me my massage didn't fit that description.
Her face had very soft Asian features, although her eyes weren't that sharply slanted, but she was taller and of a different complexion than the rest of the family. She had long, straight black hair that she wore in a long, but loosely done, ponytail, probably to keep it from falling forward as she worked. She was wearing a long, tapered, blue skirt that came to her mid calf and a loose white blouse. Well, mostly loose. It wasn't quite loose enough to hide the fact that she had one, or rather two, features that, not to be stereotypical, you don't usually expect to find on an Asian, at least not in the size she had them. She had a narrow little waist that flared to hips that I can only describe as shapely, with legs that tapered down towards the ground. In short, she was gorgeous and I was in trouble.
Remember, at that point it had been about three years since the last time I was with a woman. My brain was at war with itself. Part of me was going, "This woman's about to have her hands all over me, YAY!" A more rational part was saying, "Yes, but you know if she does you're going to get hard." That first part was perfectly happy with that arrangement, until the second part pointed out two little facts; one being the fact that this spa had strict rules about unwanted advances on the workers, the other, a much more convincing argument to that other part of me, being the fact that if I did react like that, it would almost certainly lead to massive embarrassment, and almost certainly not to a release.
In short, one part of me wanted a lot more than what the situation was likely to offer, and the other wanted to get the hell out now, and both parts were thoroughly discontent.
The apprehension I felt must have showed on my face, because the woman offered me a smile I'm sure was meant to be reassuring. At that moment, I considered it a cruel joke of the universe. She had an amazing smile, and if she'd flashed it at me in another situation, it alone might have been enough to get me hard. As it was, nerves kept that particular source of embarrassment at bay. When she opened her mouth to speak, I got to find out that the voice went with the body and the smile. It was soft, clear, musical. She didn't have an accent, or at least the accent she had was just the one of the area where I live.
She offered me her hand as she said, "Hi. I'm Lin." I heard the name as Lynne, but found out later that it was Lin, and was only a nickname, a part of her full name, which was Chinese and difficult for most Americans to pronounce. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Brandt. They told me you were one of Charlie's regulars. I work a little differently than he did, but I think you'll find it just as relaxing."
She was very professional and, unsurprising for a masseuse, but surprising in a woman who looked like she did, she had a grip like iron. I smiled back, though I'm sure a little weakly, as the handshake dropped away. "It's nice to meet you, Lin. Please, call me David, or just Dave."
She nodded, "OK, Dave. Why don't you lie down, and we'll get started. I walked over to the table, and hesitated for a moment with my hands on the ties of the robe. I'm sure she must have seen that particular discomfort on many people at similar moments, and she kindly turned her back.
The table had two plain white towels laid on it. One was larger, and laid across the table at the level my groin would be at, for comfort and sanitary reasons, and the other was slightly smaller, and folded next to the first. Having done this before with Charlie, I removed my robe, and stood there just for a moment, highly aware of the fact that I was buck naked and not five feet from one of the most beautiful women I'd ever laid eyes on, and with no chance of anything happening between us. It was a frustrating fact I tried hard not to dwell on.
I set the robe on a hook on the wall that was there for just that purpose, then laid myself on the table. The folded towel I positioned as a narrow strip covering my ass, and almost nothing else. I almost called to Lin then, but an idea struck me, and I took a moment to adjust myself so that I was lying on top of my penis, with it pointed up towards my head. I figured that would make it a lot less physically painful if I started to get hard at some point, and had the side benefit of keeping it out of view. And yes, although I'm not going to go into exact sizes, I'm big enough that if I were laying on my stomach with it pointed down my leg, it would have been quite visible to Lin if I spread my legs at all. I let her know I was ready for her.
My arms were up, my hands under my forehead. It's one of the more comfortable ways to position yourself if you're going to lie on your stomach, keeps your head in a more comfortable position. I heard Lin moving around the room. She got a little bottle of oil; she used something with almost no scent, and poured some on her hands before she started. Probably well aware of the effect she could have on a guy, and experienced enough to know how to set someone at ease, she started with the most innocuous spot she could find, right in the middle of my back. Her hands were strong and sure, kneading out the muscle, which at that point anxiety had made tighter than it was when I walked into the spa.
We talked a little while she worked, our topics of conversation varying widely. It started with simple stuff, what I did for a living, which is a pretty boring office job, what had brought me to the spa in the first place. She laughed when I told her of the coupon from Mrs. Clark. Her laugh was musical and surprisingly free. Her hands moved up from my back to my neck, strong fingers soothing tense muscles. Despite myself, I was relaxing. I asked her then if Charlie had been a relative of hers, and we got into a conversation on family history. She told me he'd been her father's uncle, but she was never really close to him, he was just the boss.
It was about that point, just as her hands slid off my neck onto my shoulders that there was a soft knock at the door. She told me she'd be right back, and went to answer it. I didn't move, happy to relax, and I listened to a quiet, but animated, conversation going on in the hallway. It was in Mandarin, so I hadn't a clue what they were talking about, although I thought I caught my last name in there at one point.
I found out much later that an emergency had come up at home, and the two ladies at the front desk had to leave immediately. Normally, this would not have been a problem, but with the oddities that happen in a family-operated business after someone's death, this would leave Lin the only employee in the building. The two who were leaving didn't like the idea of her being alone with a customer still there and were going to offer me a refund and send me on my way, but she argued that she could handle it.
The argument that finally won them over was the fact that, since I'd been one of Charlie's regulars, this might be her only chance to make an impression that would keep me as a customer for the spa. Reluctantly, they went off and locked up the building, with Lin and I still inside. At the time, I was blissfully ignorant of this exchange, and of Lin's ulterior motives for wanting to finish the massage.
I was still lying flat on my stomach, naked except for the towel covering my ass, when Lin came back into the room and apologized for the interruption. I told her it was no problem, and teased that it had better not come out of my hour. She laughed again. There's very little I wouldn't do to hear that laugh. Her hands, which had previously gotten to my shoulders, didn't return there, instead she started working on the back of one of my arms, which were still bent so my hands supported my face. Now, as I admitted before, I spend way too much time in the gym, and although Lin's hands were incredibly strong, they were not incredibly large. She couldn't get all the way around my bicep even with both hands. Maybe to break the silence, she said the obvious, and started a very uncomfortable conversation, "Hmm, well, someone spends a lot of time in the gym, huh?"
I gave a little snort of laughter and turned my head to the side to talk, at the same time moving my right arm out so she could work it easer, "Yeah, you could say that. I go there to blow off steam." I gave a little sigh as she started to work on the tricep with her thumbs, her fingers splayed around my arm. She said in a light, teasing voice, "I bet your girlfriend must love these."
I moved uncomfortably at that point, just a slight movement, as I answered, "Well, I'm sure she would. If I had a girlfriend."
She kept working on my arm and said in what I thought was a teasing voice, "Please tell me you're not gay. That'd be such a waste."
Her hands shifted up to my forearm, working it just a little bit as I laughed at that, "Uh, no, no, I'm definitely not gay." If she could have seen inside my head at that point, she wouldn't have had to ask, as I had just then been fantasizing about what she'd look like without the loose white blouse she was wearing over a pair of breasts the likes of which I'd never before, or since, seen on a woman of Asian descent.
Her only response was, "I'm glad." She moved around the table to the other side then, and started giving the other arm the same treatment. I twisted my upper body just slightly onto my side to make it easier and more comfortable, careful to leave my lower body flat so I wouldn't expose myself. I was glad of what I thought was the end of that line of conversation. As I looked up at her, I thought for a moment I saw her eyes on my abs instead of my arm, but I told myself I must be mistaken, that anyone in her profession must develop some sort of immunity to physical attraction to the people they massage, if only because of the familiarity of it. Yes, I'm that dense.
A moment later though, I found out I was wrong about that being the end of the conversation, because Lin asked, "So, why no girlfriend then?"
I squirmed mentally, although I didn't allow myself to do so physically, and answered, "No reason... I just don't date much."
I was trying to back out of this conversation, but she pursued, "Oh, come on, you can't possibly have trouble finding girls." Another mental squirm.
Finally, I don't know why, I blurted out the truth, "I just... have trouble asking women out. I don't know..."
She didn't say anything more than "Ah" to that, and let the conversation drop. Her hands moved off my arm then, so she could move elsewhere on my body and, relieved, I buried my face on my hands again, to get my arms out of her way. I never saw the gleam that went through her eyes then, the decision that hit her. I don't know what I would have done if I did, but I'm glad I didn't. Silence fell between us, slightly heavy with the awkwardness of the conversation that had broken off, but eased somewhat by the fact that she was working at the moment, and therefore occupied.
The feel of the massage changed noticbly after that. I thought it was all in my head though, that talking of my lack of a love life had me fantasizing. When her hands returned to my back, they worked their way down in little circles, an action not much different than before. But where before they'd been relaxing, now they seemed to set me on fire. It was all I could do to keep from shifting around on the table as her fingers worked from my shoulders down the sides of my back, to the small of my back right above the towel. I felt myself begin to grow hard, and made a futile wish for it to stop.
She worked at my lower back for a while, and all the while I was in mental anguish. It wasn't too comfortable physically either, since I was lying on top of a now raging erection. Her hands left me again for a while then, and I heard her putting more baby oil on them. She started on the back of my legs then, working up from my calves.
Her fingers, strong, skilled, worked at the back of my legs. I managed to relax a bit at that point, my calves aren't exactly an erogenous zone. She did get the muscles there to loosen up, which felt great in a non-sexual way, then moved further up. She started working on the back of my knees and I had to stop her. "Lin, could you move up a little? I'm just too ticklish there." It was the truth, too.
Then she started on the back of my thighs, and it was all I could do not to make noises that would have let her know my enjoyment when a little beyond what's appropriate for a public massage parlor. Her hands moved slowly up the back of my thighs, and at some point she asked me to spread my legs a little. I was very happy for the towel at that point. Her hands kept climbing, and the farther up they went the less relaxed I was. She got to the bottom edge of the towel then and informed me she was going to remove it. That stopped my mind in its tracks. I turned a little and craned my neck around to look at her.
"What? Why? Charlie never did more than move it off the spot he was working on right at the moment."
She smiled that dazzling smile of hers and said, "I told you, I work a little different than he did. I find it easier to just move it completely off. Besides, it's just your ass." The way she said it left me little room to argue without feeling like a fool, so I didn't. She moved the towel, leaving me uncovered completely, my only semblance of modesty kept by the fact I was on my stomach. Her hands started to knead my ass, rubbing and pressing in what I'm almost sure could have been an extremely effective massage if my whole body hadn't gone tense. After a few minutes of this, with my body starting to finally relax a little, she started to move back down onto my legs. This time, instead of working on both legs at once, she focused on just one for a deeper massage. Her hands stated sliding down from the bottom curve of my ass, working the muscles at the back and sides of my thigh. Just as I was starting to relax enough to enjoy that, I felt the backs of her hand brush, just for a moment, against the back of my balls. I jumped. I couldn't help it.
She asked, "What's wrong?" Her voice sounded so innocent I was sure she must not have realized what she just touched.
Wanting to keep it that way, I answered, "Nothing, just hit a tender spot." I'm a terrible liar, but I thought that sounded like a sufficiently deceptive version of the truth.
It had an unforeseen, by me anyway, consequence though. She said, "I'll try to work it out for you then. Her hand returned to a place on my thigh that, if I had been thinking clearer, I would have realized would have been easier to get to if she'd waited for me to roll over. Instead, I got treated to an occasional brush of her arm against my balls, and was starting to think I'd explode. Not in the way you might think, either, I mean explode with pure frustration, not make a mess of the towel under me.
Finally, mercifully, her hands started moving further down towards my knee, and gave me a reprieve. When she started working her way back up the other side, I was ready, and when her arm brushed against my sack again, I didn't flinch.
I was proud of myself for all of about a minute, because then she announced that she was done with my back. She said, "OK, Dave, roll over so I can work on your front."
Utter panic ensued. I had what I honestly think was the hardest erection of my life, and I was about to run out of ways to hide it. I said, desperately, "The towel?"
She just said, "Here," and placed it by my side. Then she said, "I'll turn around, let me know when you're ready." I rolled over onto my back, and grabbed the towel that had previously covered my ass. I tried valiantly to cover up, but to know avail. Try as I might, I couldn't find a way to situate things that made it anything other than obvious what state I was in.
I tried everything I could think of, trying to picture the most unattractive thing I could imagine to get it to go down, but my mind betrayed me and kept focusing instead on the perfect ass in a blue skirt that was no more than 4 feet from me. Finally, I must have taken too long, and she asked, "Dave? Are you ready for me yet?" I was, but not in the way I thought she meant.
Steeling myself for the fact that I anticipated being thrown out of the spa in the near future, I said, "Um, Lin? I'm covered, but..." She turned around at that point, and I gave her a horribly embarrassed smile, trying to show her that I considered this a betrayal by my own body." I was propped up by my arms, upper body curled slightly, and obscenely lifted towel covering without hiding what, at that moment, was my most prominent feature. Her eyes started at my face and swept down, taking in the whole picture.
I saw something flash across her features, and I thought at the time it was anger, the look had that sort of intensity to it. I thought she was just hiding it well when her eyes returned to my face and she offered me a smile so warm that it made my heart ache. She shook her head, "Dave, don't worry about it. This sort of thing happens all the time. It's involuntary. Just relax, lay back, and I'll finish your massage."
At that point I was confused, as well as relieved, at her reaction. But I believed her words, so tried to comfort myself with the thought that if it was no big deal to her, it should be no big deal to me. It didn't help, but I laid back anyway. She started on my arms gain, and it seemed to me she was taking an inordinate amount of time on my biceps, but I wasn't complaining. It meant she wasn't touching anything that would be even more nerve-wracking. I closed my eyes, trying to relax and enjoy the massage. It felt like my dick was still pointing up like a ship's mast, but I couldn't do a damn thing about it, so I tried to ignore it.
She went to my stomach then, fingers working over the washboard created by more sit-ups then I care to dwell on. She kept working up and down across them, and once again it was all I could do to keep from making a complete fool out of myself. I wanted nothing more right then than to jump up off the table, rip her skirt off, and satisfy the need that was burning through me. But that's an urge I'd never follow, not with someone who I wasn't already in a relationship with. Rape is not my style. That didn't keep me from imagining it, though even in my inner fantasies she was a willing participant. So, instead of following that fantasy, I laid there, trying to keep still, trying to relax. My eyes squeezed shut, trying to shut out the world.
I felt, rather than saw, as she put a knee up on the table for leverage as she started to kneed at the large muscles of my pectorals, starting from the collarbone and working her way down. Whatever else this might have been, it was still a massage given by a true professional. After a few minutes, during which she'd very thoroughly massaged my chest, she pulled away and said, "Dave... we're both adults here.... Can I please move this towel? It'll be in my way in a few minutes, and, honestly, it's distracting. It looks like a circus tent."
Opening my eyes and glancing down, I had to admit a certain resemblance. But I still hesitated. Some part of me more attuned to women, the part of me usually shouted down by rational thought when a situation had the potential to turn down a path that could lead to sex, a part of me more willing to take risks, urged me to let her do it. And, for once, I listened. Of course, I didn't listen hard enough, and that part of me was out of practice, or I might have realized that my chances were way more than the slim hopes I thought they were.
I nodded, and watched as she reached down and slid the towel off of me. For a moment, the friction of the towel sliding over my hard and over-sensitized member was almost too much. I don't think I showed it though, except maybe for a little squirming as the towel was pulled away. I watched her face, and for the life of me couldn't understand why she had a satisfied little smile when she saw my erection, now unrestrained, curving up towards my navel. She put the towel to the side and said, "That's better." Then she started on my legs.
Her fingers pressed and probed at one of my quads while I laid back and tried to relax again. I had to admit, it was more comfortable with the towel gone, the cool air of the room free to circulate around my genitals. If I had just been lying there, I'm sure my erection would have slowly subsided, but every once in a while something in the massage, a lighter touch, a brush of her fingers, something, would be enough to keep me hard and ready. I had the depressing thought that the most powerful state of arousal I'd ever had was going to go to waste, but resigned myself to that 'fact'. She got down to my ankle, and then started up the other leg. I happened to glance at the clock at that point, and noticed that it was 8:20. Not accounting for the argument in the hallway, that meant I had ten minutes of this pleasurable torture left. Then I could leave.
It took her a few minutes to get up the other leg, and as she worked, I had to close my eyes. Watching her intently working at the massage, her head only about two feet or less from my crotch, was entirely too much. She decided that that point would be a good time to strike up a conversation again. "You know, I feel like I've let you down here, it looks like I've made you more tense instead of less."
It was absolutely true, but I didn't want to come right out and say it, so I said, "No, you've been great, you've got amazing hands, and you did all you could to make me comfortable..." She interrupted me then, with a smile. . It was devious, amused, and seductive in a way that left no room for innocence. It was that smile that finally made all the pieces click into place, the conversation over whether I had a girlfriend. The 'accidental' touches of my balls. Even the fact that her touch had lingered longer than necessary on my biceps, chest, and abs.
She was enjoying herself at my expense. She was teasing me. All the little touches that had gone into making me so aroused were done intentionally, it was more than a lack of self control that had me so hard.
It was a stunning blow when all that hit me, but I didn't have time to consider the ramifications. I didn't have time to get angry, and I'm glad I didn't, because I probably would have ruined the moment. Because the next thing she did was lean over, and look down at me. She smiled broader and said, "You know... we've got very strict rules about how we can, and how we can't, touch a client. I'm about to break all of them." She leand in then, and brought her lips to mine.
For a moment I was too stunned to react, then I started to kiss back. I was desperate, hungry for her touch at that point, her touch without the pretense of a massage. I brought one arm up and put it around her, holding her to me while I kissed her. It was about as enthusiastic as a kiss can get without pressing the use of tongue, which I didn't want to do on the first kiss, regardless of the situation. Why I shied from being too forward at that point, I don't know. The kiss broke when I felt one of those strong hands of hers, still slick with baby oil, wrap around my erection, thumb and forefinger around the base of the shaft, her fingers splayed across my balls. All thought in my head stopped momentarily and I let out a gasp.
She pulled away a little and smiled at me. A squeeze around my erection punctuated her words to let me know what she was talking about, "Now, this is definitely my fault. The only question is what we're going to do about it." She kissed me again, light and quick, not giving me time to latch on, and added, "Or, better yet, what we're going to with it."
The mind does strange things in extraordinary situations. Well, mine does at least. Time seemed to slow down, to stretch seconds into minutes like a movie advancing one frame at a time. At the same time, I became hyper-alert to my surroundings, noticing the smallest details, and yet my mind seemed to wander, reflecting for a few moments on the series of events that lead me to where I was at that moment. Things weren't in a logical sequence, they just flashed before me like photographs in a box, unconnected except that they show the same people. Memories were interspersed with the observations of my present situation.
Sensations filled me. The feeling of Lin's hand, still slick with the oil she used for the massage, holding my manhood in her strong grip was the one thing I never lost track of through all the other things that followed. I noticed her face. I had only known her an hour, so I didn't know her well enough to read her expression perfectly, but it struck me that she didn't look nervous. I could see other things on those flawless features.
My eyes traced the high cheekbones, the small nose, the slanted eyes that were, along with her hair, about the only things that showed her (I found out later, half-) Chinese heritage. She had a stronger jaw line than most Asians I've met, and a more expressive mouth, but that mouth was quirked in a little smile that seemed to signal amusement and anticipation, not trepidation. The flush on her skin seemed to be more about excitement than anything else. You'd expect someone who just announced that their current actions could get them fired would be a little more nervous.
My mind flashed back to the argument in the hallway and I wondered, in a flash of insight that still surprises me, if maybe other rules had been broken that night, like the common-sense one that wouldn't allow (for reasons of sexual harassment suits as well as safety in the case of less scrupulous customers) her to be the only person around with a naked male client. Maybe, just maybe, there wasn't anyone around to catch us.
Lin leaned over me, smiling down, and her ponytail fell across my body. The feel of all that long, silky hair slipping over me made me shiver a little, and I thought I smelled a vague floral scent, maybe jasmine, coming from her hair. My mind jumped back again, to the massage she'd been giving me. How I'd been trying to control what I thought would be an unwelcome case of arousal while she was trying to light a fire in my balls, and succeeding. My eyes drifted down her body, following from her face to the curves concealed by the loose white blouse she wore, and the simple blue skirt below it. They lingered for a while on her breasts, which I could already at that point tell were, as they say, more than a handful. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
When her thumb started playing with the hole at the tip of my penis I let out an unintentional growl, and squirmed in a way that was less than pleased. I know some guys like having that part played with, but I've always found stimulation there is too much, and goes right over from pleasure well into pain. I brought my arms back and propped myself up on my elbows, my mind having settled out of it's foggy state, finally ready to react to all this as reality. A surprising, very pleasant reality, but still reality.
I didn't know what to say, and felt acutely the disadvantage I was at. She was the one in command of the situation, not me. I was lying there naked, aroused, and still slightly confused. She was standing over me, fully dressed, looking at me with a heat in her eyes that hadn't been there before, and holding my almost painfully erect member in her hand, thumb and forefinger around the shaft and fingers playing with my sack. Literally and figuratively, she had me by the balls.
She finally must have tired of waiting for me to figure out what to say, because she smiled, a devilish light in her eyes, and said, "Speechless?" Her other hand, the one not keeping me distracted with its grip on my member, came down on my stomach, just above my navel, and began to slide up. Her fingers traced over the lines of my stomach, than up, tracing the bottom line of my pecs. The touch wasn't that of a masseuse, it was a lover's caress, an exploration of my body.
She spoke softly, looking me in the face, "I don't know why you're so surprised. I'm only human you know. You think I'm not thinking about sex when I've got the hottest guy I've ever worked on naked on my table for an hour?" Her hand glided up over my chest to my collarbone, and she said with emphasis, "And he's fun to talk to." She leaned in then, bringing her face near mine, "AND he's hung like he's part pony." She gave what I can only describe as an affectionate squeeze to my cock and balls. I've said before I'm not going to give details on my size, but I'm far enough from small that her comment made sense. She grinned at me, "I'd have to be a lesbian not to be interested."
I couldn't stand it any longer, I had to take action. Keeping one arm on the table behind me to prop me up, I reached out with the other one and wrapped it around her waist. I pulled her as close as the position allowed for, and kissed her fiercely. I ate at her mouth like I was a starving animal, and she was food. At that point, the analogy wasn't far off. I'd been passive to this point, but I'd been holding myself back.
At first making an advance would have been inappropriate, and later, after she had her hand on my crotch and there was no doubt where she wanted things to go, it had taken me a bit to let my brain catch up with events. Now though, I would not, and could not, sit still and let her have sole control over things. At first, it seemed to surprise her. She'd figured out I was shy about approaching women, perhaps she thought that shy and meek automatically go together. In me, they don't.
Eventually, she started kissing me back, and that was a kiss that was almost a fight. It was a struggle, a battle of tongues and teeth and lips. We fought back and forth, each eager for the contact, eager to come together, but wanting it on our own terms. It was a war that neither of us won, but it was one that had no losers either, we were both enjoying it too much. When the kiss finally broke, it left both of us gasping for air, and panting for more. She gave me a look that belongs on a tiger about to pounce, and I can only imagine what my own face must have looked like, but it had to be something similar.
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I turned and stood, sliding off the table. I'm about 6'2", and Lin's about 5'8", but she was in shoes with a thick sole and a slight heel and I was barefoot, so the height difference when I grabbed her and pulled her close was only an inch or two. She gave a little gasp as she felt my hardness pressed between us. I guess it was one thing to have it in her hand, and quite another to have it pressed against her like that, where she wasn't totally in control.
For the first time, I got to run my hands over her body instead of just letting hers run over mine. I enjoyed it thoroughly; I ran my hands down from the back of her neck, down the line of her spine, out to her hips, and ending with them cupping her ass. It was not a gentle caress, I pressed her close to me throughout it. I could feel her against me, the texture of her skirt, and the finer texture of the blouse. I could feel her breasts, covered by bra and blouse, mashed against my chest. As my hands clenched on her ass I kissed her again, and that time she didn't fight me. She let me explore her mouth, my tongue sliding over her teeth. I enjoyed the sensations for a while, but they weren't nearly enough, not anywhere close to what I wanted from her.
I pulled my lips from hers, and put just enough space between our upper bodies to talk comfortably, our lower halves were pressed as close as ever. "From where I'm standing, you look very overdressed. We should do something about that." It was the kind of silly little comment that sounds horrible after the fact, but was just right at the time. She looked up at me and smiled, and stepped back, out of my grasp. I could have held her, but since I was pretty sure why she was going, I happily let her go.
As she stepped away, her hand, which had been resting on my hip, slid forward and down, and she suddenly had my shaft in that iron grip of hers again. I let out a little gasp, and she gave me an evil grin. She tightened her grip in little pulses around me, and I couldn't help but think of getting a similar sensation from a different part of her body. I'm sure that was her intention. While she worked me with that hand, the other hand unfastened her skirt. It only took a few moments before it slid to the ground around her.
The way her blouse fell, I only got the briefest flash of pink from her undergarments, not enough to see more than their color. Still holding me by my manhood, she started to undo her blouse, one button at a time, starting at the top and working downwards. At first all I could really see was a little bit of cleavage, and the fact that the bra matched the color of the panties. When she had the last button undone, I started to reach forward to help her slide it off, but she stopped me with a squeeze around my shaft and a soft, "Uh-uh, let me." She slipped her free hand out of her blouse, and then slid the blouse off down her arm, hanging it on my erect cock. I had to smile at that, until a moment later she began to slowly draw it off of me by the other sleeve. The memory of the feel of the slick fabric sliding around my shaft, so exquisitely slowly, is still enough to make me rise to attention.
I also got a better look at what she was still wearing about the same time. Her panties were rather plain, a light pink in a fairly modest design, no frills or sexy but uncomfortable cut. Her bra was of the same utilitarian nature, a matching pink made to hook in the back, with nothing lacy or particularly sexy. It made me smile though. I've said I hadn't had much of a sex life at that point, but I did have a lot of female friends. Female friends who felt I was securely in the 'will not date' category, and talked freely around me. Because of that, I knew this wasn't the kind of thing a woman would wear if she was planning on showing off to a guy, or trolling for men. No, this encounter was no more planned in advance for her than it was for me.
When she'd drawn her top completely back into her hand, she grinned at me, then let the garment drop to the floor alongside her skirt. She stepped out of the skirt then, and bent for a moment to remove her shoes. I was torn between disappointment in the fact that she needed to remove her hand from my shaft to do this, and joy at the fact that when she went to remove her second shoe she turned completely away from me and I got to watch her bending over in nothing but her panties. What a sight! I was beginning to think, and dread, that I was going to end up popping before I got anywhere near being inside of her. Something told me that rising again tonight wouldn't be a problem, but I'm not 17 anymore, there was no guarantee it would happen fast enough to not put a halt to the amazing events of the night. When she got the shoe off she looked back at me over her shoulder before straightening all the way up, "Enjoying the view?" I just grinned and nodded, unable to come up with a witty response.
She turned to face me again, and I moved to embrace her. I hugged her close, and a little growl came out of me as I felt the head of my cock press against her belly, now with nothing to come between it and her skin. The height difference was more pronounced now, so when we pressed together, my shaft came a good way up her body. I kissed her, and we fenced for a while with our tongues. While we did that, my hand snuck around behind her. I was a bit of an imp in high school, and I'd had a couple of female friends who I'd teased unmercifully by reaching over and unhooking their bra with one hand through their shirts. I'm not quite sure how I picked up the skill, but I've never found it particularly difficult. Occasionally, as at that moment, it was even a useful skill. It only took me a moment to unhook the back of her bra, and my other hand was free to roam while I did it.
My hand was still on her ass, caressing it through the soft panties, when she pulled back and let out a gasp of surprise at how easily I'd gotten the bra undone. Her hands came up to hold it in place while she said, her voice suspicious, "I thought you said you didn't date much?"
I gave a non-chalant shrug and smiled, "Doesn't mean I haven't picked up a trick or two." The look I was given let me know I was in trouble, though in a very good way.
She let her hands fall away, drawing the bra down off her breasts and dropping it to the floor. My eyes started to follow the motion but stopped mid way. I wouldn't say I'm a breast man to the exclusion of all else, but I do like them, and hers were well worth looking at. They were large enough to be considered big no matter what race she was, but on an Asian they were truly exceptional. They were big enough that my hand wouldn't spread all the way across one, but had very little sag. Small, brown, already hardened nipples pointed forward, a visual indication of her arousal.
I've always been jealous of women for that, a man can never be sure how aroused a woman is just by looking, while all a woman has to do is glance down to know what's going on with a guy. Even the one thing that does show if they're aroused is easy to conceal if they want to, and even if they don't, can be set off by a cold breeze. Anyway, back, to my story.
I reached forward, my hands going to Lin's newly revealed breasts and catching her nipples between thumb and forefinger on both sides. I lifted her breasts a little, caressing them, playing with them, while my fingers rolled her nipples a bit. From the expression on her face, and the way her eyes squeezed shut, I knew she was enjoying it. I leaned down then to put my mouth on one, flicking back and forth across her nipple with my tongue. Her breath caught, and then got faster, so I speeded it up. Her reaction got even more dramatic, until she was almost panting, then her eyes shot open and she gave me a look so fierce it stopped me for a moment.
That moment was long enough; her hand shot out and grabbed my shaft just below the head. She said in an aggressive growl, "I want this monster inside me, Now." I was in no mood to argue with a request like that one. Besides, I had the vague worry at that moment, thanks to the look in her eyes and the strength of her grip on my shaft, that if I said 'no' she'd do something I'd regret permanently.
She let go of me then, and spun away, leaving me momentarily confused. She turned to the massage table, leaning over it with one hand on its surface while the other hand reached down to draw down her panties. I could see as she pulled them away from her that they were more than a little damp. Once she got them as far as her knees, she dropped them the rest of the way with a wiggle of her legs that moved her ass in a way I'd swear was hypnotic, then stepped out of them. I stood there watching, fascinated, until she turned and glared at me over her shoulder, "What are you waiting for?" It was a question I couldn't answer, so I just grinned at her. When she saw me moving forward she turned away again, bending over further and presenting her ass to me.
I came up behind her and laid my hands on her cheeks. I squeezed them, not hard enough that I'd leave a bruise, but not gentle either. I laid my erection in the crack of her ass, and started moving just a little, sliding it up and down. It wasn't in nearly the right position for penetration, but it felt wonderful anyway. From the catch in her breath, she had no arguments either. A little more of that teasing was about all I could take, so it wasn't more than a minute before I pulled my lower body away, and pressed her up further onto the massage table, spreading her a little, and putting her in position for entry.
She gave a growl at that that told me she was more than ready for it. Thoughts of a condom ran through my head for a moment, but I didn't have one on me, and it didn't look like she did either, and I couldn't have stopped then if my life depended on it. I reached down with one hand to press my shaft down into position, then slid the thick head up and down her slit a few times, picking up the moisture that was running freely there. Once the head was coated with her juices, I put it in place and started to sink it into her.
Just the feeling of entering her was almost enough to set me off. It was a spectacular end to a three year dry spell, but it left me very uncertain about how long I was going to last. My balls felt like they were ready to make up for lost time and put out three years worth of climaxes at once. The words spilling out of Lin's mouth as I sunk deeper into her didn't help matters. I could hear her saying things like, "Yes, oh yes, oh fuck, oh God you're big, oh yes." After a couple of repetitions of phrases like that, she crossed a language barrier and started making what sounded like they were probably similar statements in Mandarin.
I was entering her slowly, so slowly, because I had to. Faster would have been too much, true, but I might have done it anyway if it weren't for the fact she was so tight I couldn't force my way in any faster without hurting someone. Her words devolved into panting as I got further inside her. Finally, we both winced a little as I hit bottom, and found out that, at least from this position, I couldn't get everything inside her. I backed out just a little, and moved my feet to set myself so that I wouldn't drive farther than that again by accident, at least not easily.
I started to thrust into her then, driving myself in and out with slow strokes. I wanted this to last, and that was the best way I could think of to do it. A high pitched moan came out of her, such an erotic sound it sent a bolt of lightning from my ears straight to the tip of my cock. It drew a responding growl out of me. We must have sounded like animals, but we felt like animals at the time, so that's fine. She cried, "Faster, please David, faster." One of my hands rested on the small of her back for balance and leverage while I sped things up. Since I was thoroughly aware of the fact that I was not going to last at that pace, my other hand slid around under her to rub at the top of her sex, over where I was impaling her.
The friction on her clit had the desired effect, she let out a howl and started driving back onto my shaft. It was almost impossible to keep from bottoming out again, but both of us were beyond the point of caring. The momentary pain wasn't enough to break the rhythm between us as we both drove towards a climax. Worrying actually helped me there, I was so concerned that I'd climax too early and leave her disappointed that it held off my finale.
Honestly, in another situation that much worry might have killed my erection entirely, but in that particular circumstance, I don't think a bucket of ice water and the threat of imminent death could have brought me down before I came. As it was, things worked perfectly. Just as I was getting to the point where pure sensation was about ready to overwhelm the mental block, Lin let out a yell and drove back hard, burying me in her deep. I felt her clench down hard around me, and I gave a little cry of my own as her pussy pulsed around me, as if her heart, and mine, were beating together at the place our bodies joined. She held me so tight I couldn't even move, let along keep thrusting.
Ask any guy, there is a point beyond which the desire to continue is strong, but stopping without a climax just isn't possible. Beyond that point, more stimulation is wonderful, but a sudden stop will cause an explosion too. I had passed that point at a dead run and not looked back, so when Lin's body slammed on the breaks, I came along with her.
What I said there didn't come out just right. Let's see, how to describe it? I had the most powerful, amazing, mind-blowing, border-line painful it was so pleasurable, climax of my life. I could feel my cum pouring out into her, driven into the deepest parts of her. When it ended, my knees felt weak, and I think the only thing that kept me standing was the fact that Lin's sex was still gripping me so hard.
Eventually, her body relaxed as well, and we both stood there panting. My member was deflating rapidly, and I drew it out of her for comfort, but didn't go far. I slid my hands under her, catching her breasts, and lifted her back to a standing position. I put face over her shoulder, and she turned her head to kiss me. It was a long kiss, but slow, without the same urgency as before. She turned in my arms, and nuzzled her face against my chest. She spoke in a quiet murmur, "Oh David, you were wonderful. That was amazing."
Her breasts rubbed against the lower part of my chest, and her hand traced down my front, tracing the lines between my abs, until it got to the dense patch of hair between my legs. Then her hand wrapped around the base of my shaft, and started to slide up and down the skin that was still slick with her own juices. She kissed along my collarbone as she stroked me, and spoke between the kisses. "I bet you didn't expect a massage this thorough, did you?"
I laughed a little at that, and shook my head, "Expect? No. I didn't think it was even a remote possibility. Hope? As soon as I saw you. I was half hard before you even laid a hand on me."
I was going to add something else, but she cut me off with a smile and said, 'I know, I peeked." It was said with a mischievous little grin that I almost would have called childlike if she hadn't been naked, pressed against me, and pulling on my dick at the time.
It made me laugh again, "You little liar. I thought you said you'd turn your back while I got myself situated."
She traced a finger on her free hand across my chest, replying, "I know, but I was curious." She gave me another evil grin, and asked, "Are you complaining about the fact that I wanted to see what your cock looked like?"
That made me smile, and shake my head in an emphatic 'no', "I'm just glad you liked what you saw, and decided you wanted to play with it for a while too."
She smiled then, that beautiful, engaging smile that had me from the moment I walked in the room. Her words were soft, and teasing, "Hmm, a while, yeah. I think I could be happy making that 'while' last the next forty or fifty years."
The comment was so out of touch with the situation it seemed almost dreamlike. We had just had wild, spontaneous sex the first time we ever met. Never mind fucking on the first date, we hadn't waited that long. But, for some reason, the comment didn't scare me. Something deep inside me liked the idea just fine.
Her hand was still around my wilted member, now lubricated by a lot more than just the oil from the massage. She gave it a firm squeeze, not quite hard enough to hurt. Apparently, as intense as that climax had been, it hadn't taken everything out of me, because I'd never gone fully limp, and I could feel myself beginning to harden again. She must have felt it too, because she said, "Mmm, looks like I'll get to play a little more tonight, at least."
I leaned in to kiss her then, pressing her between my body and the massage table. The movement made her let go of my cock, but it wasn't a problem, since instead of her hand it was no pressed against her body. She let out a pleased little yelp into the kiss. I let that kiss continue, while my hands took the chance to explore. Starting at her hips, they worked their way up, tracing her curves. They followed the outside curve of her breasts up, then, once they got to her shoulders, turned and went down her back.
That kiss went on long enough that by the time it broke, I was fully hard again. Lin pulled away with a gasp, pulling out of my arms so that, for the first time since she moved to take off her clothes, no part of our bodies was touching. That didn't last long.
Lin took a long look at my body, freely admiring my muscled form, until her eyes finally came to rest on my upward-curving cock. She smiled then, a devilish smile I have come to associate with wonderful things, then looked me in the eye. She reached out and grabbed me, tracing her fingers along the hard flesh, and said softly, "I know exactly how I want this." A quick jerk of her head towards the table and she added, "Lie down. On your back."
I was only too happy to oblige. Feeling a bit playful, I posed a bit for her as I laid back, putting my hands behind my head and flexing my abs in just a little bit of a crunch to make them pop. From the growl that came from Lin, I can only assume she appreciated the sight. A moment later she was straddling me, looking down into my face. She wiggled her ass around a bit until my cock was lying lengthwise in the crack of her ass, then leaned down to kiss me. Our heights are such that the position worked for that.
Her hands ran up my chest, not massaging, just caressing. She has a thing for pecs. When the kiss broke, she sat up straight again, pressing up with her hands still on my chest. One hand came off to help her situate things as she lifted her lower body off mine.
Once everything was properly aligned, she started to lower herself onto me. Her breath came in little gasps as I slid into her. Apparently, this position was hitting things the other didn't. She lowered herself until as much of me as she could take was inside. By that point, the sounds coming for her was just a quick panting. I bucked my hips once, moving me deep inside her, and a long moan was the musical answer to the action.
Remembering earlier how sensitive her nipples were when I had my mouth on them, I reached up and began to play with her breasts. Gentle touches, weighing them in my hands, tracing my fingers across the smooth skin. Everything was still so new between us that it was still truly an exploration of the other's body. My fingers caught her nipples as she began to really ride me, plunging herself up and down on my shaft. The sensations it brought were amazing, but I knew that I could last on that, my second time.
After a surprisingly short interval, Lin's panting built to a long, moaning cry. The sound was the only warning I got before she plunged herself down on me hard. Through whatever trick of anatomy made it work, she was able to take me fully that time, , and I could feel her weight resting on my pelvis.
Still moaning through her orgasm, she leaned down towards me, without separating from me, and began to move her hips in little circles, grinding her clit against me. Just watching her was amazing, but the sensations were beyond words. I began to feel my balls threatening to boil over. I reached around her then, gripping her ass and pulling her tight against me, while my lips found hers for another hungry kiss.
All of a sudden she started to buck, bobbing rapidly on my cock. She through her head back to let out a cry, and I gave one of my own to match it. The harmony of our cries rang in the room as she went into a powerful series of climaxes that finally drew a second load from me. After that, I was well and truly spent, but she was equally satisfied.
We held each other for a long time, saying nothing, unwilling to let our bodies separate, but finally, necessity, and the fact that there really wasn't room on the massage table for two people once we disengaged, pulled us apart. I helped her clean up the room, removing all traces of our lovemaking.
When the room was clean, she smiled at me. "So... after all that, how about you take me to dinner?" I did, that night and many after it. I stopped going to the spa as a customer, but only because now I get my massages at home.
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Posted by ATCFNM at 12:09 PM