[M/F] I never told you what giving you your first massage was like for me… | 2016

I never told you what giving you your first massage was like for me…

Your eyes glance furtively around the room, before settling on the large, luxurious brown leather massage table. You sit down a few, safe feet from me, and we chat. I explain my style to you, and you nod along appreciatively. I gently remind you of the game we’d been playing, and that this was my reward for winning. Eventually, you leave to take a shower, and I get the room prepared. There’s an unusually heady atmosphere to the room, something I didn’t quite pick up on at first.

After a long time in the washroom, you walk back in, towel wrapped around you as your hair clings greedily to your neck as the cloth hugged your curves. I motioned for you to mount the table, telling you to lie on your stomach. You comply, a little hesitant at first, but slowly relaxing into the soft, comfortable leather. I move you, to whispered protestations, into a position more favorable for me to work, while adjusting your towel to drape you properly, leaving your entire back half exposed, except your behind.

I pass around you, and I place one finger on the small of your back. I gasp quietly, as an electric shock arcs up my arm. I’ve massaged hundreds of people, but this… This was different. This was interesting. As my finger rests there, your muscles tense and ripple ever so slightly under my touch, moving away yet yearning to be closer. The room feels a lot warmer than usual, and the faint tinge of moisture clings to my forehead.

I work my way down your back, starting in your neck and shoulders and following the arc of your spine. Every pass I make down each sides elicits a noticeable inhale from you, pressing your back into my hands. I marvel quietly at the smoothness of your skin, as it buzzes under my touch, still shocking me, leaving me clinging to you for every second, not wanting that electricity to stop coursing through me. I glide my hands down the sides of your lower back, and you let out a gasp, convulsing gently as you feel the shock course back into you.

I repeat the motion, the quiet moans escaping too delicious to resist. Goosebumps dot your flesh as I slowly work my way lower, before arcing back upwards, dragging my nails along the contours of your back, leaving tingling trails in their wake, and cause you to unconsciously press your hips into the table. I move back down, assaulting the weak point in your back again, and eliciting one very loud groan before I relinquish my hold on you.

After asking, I remove the drape from your behind, exposing it to the air. The sudden change in temperature causes you to shift your hips, making the muscles shake almost invitingly. Applying more oil to my hands, I take your flesh into my grasp, kneading away any tension as you gasp. You hand moves slightly, barely grazing my leg, but sending an inferno cascading through me. I try desperately to fight of the distraction, to focus on the firm flesh beneath my fingertips, pressing and pulling it. You stifle a moan, but the vibrations reach me, ringing like shockwaves through my body. It’s my turn to gasp slowly.

I part your legs slightly, and before I can think to not look, I’m greeted by a pair of perfectly shaven lips, glistening in the light pouring through the window. I work up and down your thigh, every time I glide past your behind, a little more of you pours out, and my mouth gets a little drier. A particular stroke brings my left hand back on to your wonderfully taut behind, and the combination of squeezing the muscles there, and in your leg, cause you to unconsciously grind your hips into the table in synch with my ministrations.

It’s at this point that I realize your breath is coming in little gasps, that I’ve been teasing you the entire time, that I really shouldn’t be doing this. Torn between integrity and the fire burning in the pit of my stomach. I propose to continue the game we’d been playing at first. I have to ask twice, you’re so distracted at first. You hesitantly agree, surfacing from whatever bubble you’d lost yourself in. We play back and forth, exchanging truths and dares like we had earlier. My hands stop massaging, and instead I glides them over your skin, their touch feather light, each nail leaving a burning trail in its wake as you try to focus on our game. I marvel with a thirst I’ve never experienced before or since, as your juices pooled around and beneath you on the table, leaving you utterly soaked. Finally, you agree to another dare,

“I dare you to let me tease you for one minute.”

You hesitate, rationality grasping you in its frigid embrace, before cautiously asking, “One minute?”

“One minute.” I say, slicing a finger up your spine to make my point. You shake a little, and nod.

I can feel the racing of your heart as I slowly, wend my way down to your pretty, wet lips. Flushed, pulsing ever so slightly along with your heart, I trace a finger along the outside of one of the lips, causing you to moan and push yourself back, into my hand. I pull away, knowing that after all the teasing you’d done, I was not going to make this easy for you. The other hand swirls along your back, one nail skating figure eights into your flesh and causing the muscles beneath to spasm as it glides along. I treat the other lip as I did the first, and then I press gently into the soft flesh between your lips and the tight delicate rosebud of your asshole.

A throaty groan escapes your throat before you can stifle it, and I press my fingers around both sides of your lips, down to the base of the table, and pulling in close. I feel you clit, burning hot and radiating heat into, fueling the inferno that’s seized control of my body. With my fingers as soaked as you are, I glide one down the length of your clit, pausing right before the head. Then, with the lightest touch imaginable, I caress it slowly, my other hand sliding down your back to grasp your hand tightly within my, as if to pass on some of the incredible heat built up inside me.

You’ve stopped caring about the noise you make, and I turn my finger gently over the hood of your clit, sliding upwards and parting your lips ever so slightly. As if responding to fire coursing through my body, I feel your dampness coating me, making my hands not wholly my own anymore, claiming them for yourself. I comply, and I slowly, agonizingly slowly, slide two fingers inside you. I can feel every ridge, ripple, begging to be explored, but I’m focused solely on one thing. I twist, and press down into your G-Spot, and my god, the sound that came bubbling out of your chest nearly broke the last vestiges of my sanity, and my control.

I begin pumping my fingers inside you, knowing my minute is coming to a close. You wiggle and grind your ass so invitingly, I bring my lips down, kissing the soft flesh there, scorching the skin beneath my touch as I slowly wend my way downwards, inch by inch, until you feel like hot breath caressing your tight little rosebud. I bring my lips down, and let my tongue gently graze you. Your entire body convulses, pressing your ass into my face for a moment and pushing my tongue inside you, before twisting and falling to the side.

A few seconds remain, and my hand pumps methodically inside you, every time pressing against the special spot. As the last second rolls by, I lean forward and nipple your earlobe. You cry out, your back arching, leaving you panting.

“Minutes up.” I whisper into your ear, but one look at the glazed expression in your eyes tells me nothing I’ll say will get through to you. I decide to indulge the demon inside me a little longer, my finger’s pumping rising to a crescendo, your breath coming in ragged gasps. Then, in one fluid motion, I lean forward, pressing deep inside you, whilst taking the flesh on the side of your shoulder in my mouth and biting down hard. You scream, and in that selfsame motion, I relinquish you completely.

You rest there for several minutes, before asking to use the shower again. I agree, allowing you off the table, and smirking as your first few steps are a little shaky. Cloaked in the towel, you leave the room, the fire dying down to a smoky smoulder, the electricity arcing over my skin settling down to a faint tingle. I muse to myself, knowing full well you didn't finish. Knowing full well that was my intention.

Knowing full well that I am a patient man…

And there will be plenty of time for that in the future.