Massage Therapy

I heard my name called. “Lynne?” Grabbing my bag, I looked up and there stood Michael, his enormous biceps bulging under his taught grey t-shirt. I caught a glimpse of bright blue eyes and long dark lashes underneath a wave of sandy brown hair. Oh my. This hottie was my massage therapist? He looked more like a back-up dancer in a Madonna video. I was going to get naked and invite this man to rub his hands all over my body? That thought sent a tingle down my spine. Trying not to look too eager, I flashed him a sly smile and accepted his strong handshake.

I had driven up to Napa with Josh, one of the men I am seeing casually. He and I drove down the winding Marin roads, eucalyptus trees lining the highway and yellow mustard flowers decorating wineries. The weather was warm so we put the top down on my convertible. The sun soaked our faces.

Our destination was a Calistoga spa that offered mudbaths and massage. A day there makes for a nice Saturday getaway. Josh is a gentleman. He checks all of the relationship boxes: stable, responsible, kind, attractive. Though I like spending time with Josh, he doesn’t light my fire in the way other men have, and a few men still, do.

I followed Michael down the softly-lit hallway filled with sounds of pan flute. Josh and his massage therapist, Rebecca, followed behind. We all entered an intimate candle-lit massage room with two massage beds. Michael instructed me to get naked and lay face down underneath the covers on the elevated massage table. Briefly, I wondered why the massage table was so high. I needed a stool to lumber up to its elevated height. I snuck a look at Josh who had been instructed to lie on the table across the room. Michael and Rebecca left the room. Anticipation of Michael’s large hands caressing my body led me to undress in mere moments. I couldn’t wait to feel Michael’s touch. Without a word to Josh, I climbed between the crisp white sheets face down. I was grateful I had booked an hour long session.

The heater on the massage bed warmed my whole body. I was already feeling relaxed when Michael came back into the room and started with a foot massage. His fingers kneaded the knots, which were the result of my high-heel obsession. Though coated in silky smooth oil, Michael’s fingers felt rough. The scents of lavender and rosemary in the massage oil were intoxicating. The small movements of Michael’s thumbs caressing the sore muscles on the bottoms of my feet mimicked the sensations of a tongue lapping at my wet spot. I was taken aback when a visual of his tongue caressing my clit leapt into my mind. My breathing got heavier. Thoughts of his tongue massaging that sensitive spot between my thighs made me delightfully woozy. I worked to stifle a moan, transitioning the ohhhhh into a sigh, to mask the intensely pleasurable sensations.

I felt the first subtle drip of wetness trail down my soft spot.

Though I couldn’t see him, I could hear each of Michael’s movements. Pulling back the top of the crisp cotton sheet, he exposed my naked back. The anticipation I felt was overwhelming; I knew that he would soon be touching me again with those strong hands. He filled his hands with warm oil. As he rubbed his palms together droplets of the silky oil dotted my upper back. It was so sensual. The feel of those droplets brought back memories of the last time a man’s warm cum covered my thigh.

Michael moved his hands down the length of my back. Within inches of his chest, I could feel him breathing deeply as he manipulated his forearms along my core. His pace was so slow and methodical. I savored even the most minor movements of his hands. It was then I realized the table was so high because Michael was so tall. In order for him to get leveraged close to my body, to push all of his weight into my small form, he needed me to be closer to him.

After a few long caresses on my back, I started to feel his movements in a new way. I perceived his hands as those of the lovers who curl my toes with their touch. My mind was firing with thoughts of hot sex. I felt myself moist between my thighs. I began to breathe in a wholly different way. My breathing reflected his movements; each breath invited him to push more and harder and deeper. At one point, Michael ran his elbows along either side of my spine. I swallowed hard. That move felt so good. The pressure of his hands was intense. My whole body responded to his touch. Places deep within my belly became aroused. I envisioned him entering me with full force. I couldn’t hold back a deep moan.

Quietly I asked “Michael, can you please do that again?” He chuckled and easily obliged. On his second pass, his breath was hot on my neck.

Michael’s touch made my whole body shiver.

I have had massages from male therapists before, but none of those men touched me like Michael touched me. It felt a little like I was cheating on Josh. I could hear Josh breathing across the room. It had only been a week since my last fabulous fuck, but it wasn’t with Josh. I was denying Josh the pleasure of experiencing my body in that way. There were other men who appealed to me more. Those other men included, at that moment, Michael. Had Michael and I been alone in the room, I’m not sure that I could have kept myself from reaching out to unbuckle his tight jeans. The motions of his hands, how he responded to my subtle sighs, I don’t think Michael would have stopped me.

Gently Michael covered my back in order to move the massage down to my lower body. As he readjusted the sheet, exposing my leg and upper thigh, his hands paused briefly inches away from my warm slit. Rising and falling, his hands inched their way closer to that space that begged to be touched. He varied the pressure, weaving his hands up the outside of my thigh and kneading his fists down the inside. Soon his forearms were beating out a gentle rhythm on the inside of my thigh. The movements just didn’t stop.

He got more oil to cover his hands and more of those tiny drops fell. In the presence of Josh on the other table, I was having sex with Michael in my thoughts and via this highly sensual massage.

Michael’s movements told me that he was also aroused. He leaned his strong body into the table. I envisioned his erect cock, bulging in his pants and inches from my body. Only the denim of his jeans separating his body and mine.

Michael’s touch excited those muscles in my core that tense when I am stimulated beyond sexual control. My breathing quickened and he kept up the pace. With hands warm and strong, he worked his way up and down each leg. Touching. Kneading. Pausing. He stimulated my skin in amazingly sensual ways. I imagined him inserting his cock into my warm and soft folds. I melted at the core.

Without saying a word, and without direct touch to my most erotic places, Michael’s sensual touch brought me to the most sensual climax. A quiet sigh escaped my lips, I lost control and my body filled with warmth and light. Warm juices flooded between my thighs.

Michael must have felt my body tense for the briefest of seconds and then go entirely limp. He gave a quick squeeze of my thigh, leaned down and whispered into my ear, “Would you like for me to do that again?

S. Lynne

S. Lynne is a mild-mannered professor by day and a vixen by night. Though most of her writing is scientific, she indulges her sexier side by recounting true stories of romantic interludes. S. Lynne is relishing new-found freedom after the end of a 15-year relationship. With many dating sex-capades to share, she hopes to educate and inspire!

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1 Response

  1. Jana Twisk says:

    Such a sensuous experience! Thank you for sharing this.
    I love your engaging style of writing, I could really imagine myself on that massage table as I was reading this, and it sure did get me a little wet 🙂

    xoxo Jana