True Tales Share #4 Unconventional Massage Encounters of a Massage Whore | 2016

Boy meets girl. Boy is cute and tells her he's a certified massage therapist. Girl is voluptuous and really loves receiving massage. Should I mention this conversation is occurring at her mailbox; she's in her nightgown--A long red damask pattern silk gown with a slit up the length of each leg.

How many massages do you think it takes before boy boinks girl? Or can girl (yes, that's me) hold out indefinitely? She is already dating the guy that lives downstairs, and he's a skilled lover and a little kinky, so sexually, her needs are filled.

Predictions please...! I don't know if it effects your predictions, but this instance is before I went to massage school...before my four-handed massage encounter I previously shared with you.

I was invited over to the massage therapists house, only a short walk from my house being right next door, to receive a massage. Of course I jump on this offer even though I hardly know him. He informs me he has the house to himself. He has a female roommate, who I know in passing, who's out for the night. Hmmm...he's the lights dimmed, candles lite, soothing music playing, a bottle of red breathing, and his massage table set up and draped. I thought I signed on for a massage, but clearly this is looking like a date. Although it could be just a massage; the only red flag is the red wine and that could be a benefit of a home massage over an office massage. I figure a date would never start naked, well in most instances a date wouldn't begin in the buff, so I brush aside my suspicions and go with the flow. We each have a glass of wine while we manage some small talk.

I get to the bottom of my glass and he offers me another which I graciously decline. He asks me if I'd like to smoke some pot, but I don't get high. He kindly asks if I mind if he gets high, which I've no qualms about. I do request for him to smoke outside and while he's outside I'll get on the table. He cool with my suggestions. I have to admit, it's a little strange taking off all your clothes, in more or less a stranger's house, in order get under a thin nearly sheer sheet, while he's outside getting stoned, but what can I say, I was a hedonist at heart. I'd get naked on the freeway meridian, during rush hour, if it meant an incredible and memorable massage. Who am I kidding, I'd do it for a mediocre massage.

I approach removing my clothes as if they're a puzzle; what's the order of removal for least exposure if he were to unexpectedly walk in. I start with my shorts, wiggling them down over my hips and folding then in half, momentarily setting them on the massage table. Standing there in my tank top and panties is wearing more clothes than at the beach; so why do I feel vulnerable and exposed. I intentionally didn't wear a bra, so removing my tank top means I'm left with only panties on. I clearly didn't think this through enough. This is more challenging than I anticipated, but I quickly strip my tank top off. Here I am, standing in some guy's living room, with my ample bosom on display, and only wearing tiny bikini panties. I go for it and think I'm going to mad dash it under the sheet, but I realize I still have to put my clothes somewhere, ideally within reach of the massage table. My choices are the floor or the couch. The couch is a step and a stretch and a better option than the floor. I walk over and drape them neatly over the back and make haste for the sanctuary of the massage sheets. My heart is actually a little racey. It's not the effort, but the psychology of the process.

In the span of two breaths he's in room. I of course wonder, coincidental or did he see when I was ready. Although he went through his bedroom's sliding glass door to go outside, it's the same patio as the living room. In effect he was just outside on patio, in the dark, and the curtains were only partially closed. There's also a large mirror in the living room. He may have been spying.

I'm sorry to disappoint you, the yous who thought one round and he's giving her pussy an internal massage, hitting that G-spot, massaging that yoni, but it was simply a massage. A wonderfully long massage that starts and ends as any other massage. I asked him to pass me my clothes and to please turn around while I get dressed. We shared the rest of the bottle of wine and talked. As I left he inquired if I'd like to do it again sometime. I told him anytime, just give a literal holler and I'd happily pop over.

He calls me over for a second massage before an entire week had pased. I happily accepted. I had planned ahead for our second massage encounter in regards to what I'd wear. A cotton summer dress is one swift motion over my head and sans bra and panties I can be under the covers in no time flat. It's all the same: roommate gone for the night, ambiance set, and a bottle of red with two glasses already poured. We sit to chat and I privately laugh at myself because I pick up both glasses, handing him one closest to me. He later goes outside again to smoke some weed while I make my way under the covers. The second time stripping naked, in albeit less of a stranger's home, was still qute queer. However, the single article of clothing to remove made the process easier, but the sensation of vulnerability was no less. I might've even felt more vulnerable and helpless because now for duration of us hanging out before and after I'm distinctly aware of my nudity.

This second massage was as great and lengthy as the first, but his ability to keep my parts adequately covered were portentously falling. He slowly made his way from my foot and up my leg while I was laying on my belly, face in the face cradle. The sheet loosely covering my ass and other leg, which means my pussy, at the right level, exposed for his eyes to see. He's really good with his hands and I'm in literal ecstasy. I can go with it or ask for him to tuck the sheet. I decided I preferred stay in the moment of bliss and go with it. At one point, I swear I feel his warm breath against my lips, and become much more aware of my lips between my legs. I noticed his pelvis as it accidentally bumps my arm and I swear he's an erection. He's an erection or holding a club; whatever I noticed it was well endowed.

He spent a lot of time on each thigh and I don't know if I was hypersensitive given my predicament or that I was certain he was quite aroused, but every pull and stroke of my thighs I felt my pussy lips being pulled slightly apart. As his hands dug deeply into my glutes I could sense my asshole and pussy spring open and shut in reply. During our first massage I tried very hard to only breath deep and resist the urge to softly moan as is my nature with any massage. I couldn't resist the urge this time. I let out a small sigh and then another deeper breathy hum. How could I be getting so turned on when earlier that same day the man I was casually dating had pressed every button just right and pleased my desires a couple of times. With every stroke he stretched me open and with each release the snap back reverberated throughout my core. As he made his way up my back I didn't know if I was relieved or disappointed.

Eventually he had me turn over, starting down my feet, slowly exposing and working on both legs simultaneously. There's no doubt in my mind he had a clear and unhindered view of pussy; my wet pussy. He'd clasp one full thigh, one hand on the inner edge and other on outer, and slightly twisted, permitting the back of his hand to causally brush my pussy for a brief moment. The resulting tug on my lips was far more noticeable. He'd stroke both hands up and down my inner thigh, groin to knee, and the pangs of pleasure as he pulled were nearly unbearable. His fingers were dangerously close to feeling my wetness. As the force of his hands had my pussy opening and closing like a clam high on opiates, I imagined him noticing the tendrils of my cum stretching in response to his movements.

He made his was up to my belly and crossed so close to my vagina that he was in effect rubbing my mons pubis. I get rid of most of my pubic hair and he's very high on weed, so he may not even realize where he massaging, but wow now I can more strongly feel a wrench on my clitoris. My breathing shifts. I make it a point to hush up, least I rile myself further. I'm beginning to feel sexual tension build up, and I don't mean getting horny, I'm well past horny, and close to an actual orgasm. Moments before I'm about to cum he begins to work my ribs. As he makes his way around my breasts, I tell him it's perfectly fine by me if he works on my chest muscles. I'm very physically fit and muscular under my womanly curves and my pecks could honestly use some attention. He took this to mean cup my breasts and rub the flat of his palm over my nipples, but I'm not one to complain.

He spent some time on face and head, which was utterly relaxing. When he mentioned he was done I asked if he minded if I used his shower quickly because I was a little too oily. He said sure. I used the sheet to make my get away, quickly absconded to the bathroom, and turned up the heat; I'm not only referring to the hot water. He had me entirely worked up and the guy I was sleeping with was at work for the night. I'm embarrassed to say I masturbated in his shower; it only took me thirty seconds cum. Quietly cumming is never satisfying, but in that moment I was weak-kneed and dizzy with delight. I came out of the shower pretty much as oily as I went in as I didn't use a bit of soap. I wondered if he noticed or if I just felt guilty for jacking myself off in a stranger's shower post massage that was a little more than a massage. We don't hook up beyond what happened in the loose boundaries of the massage, but I have a self-imposed happy ending.

He invites me over the following week. This is our third encounter; I'm realizing when he's high he loses total track of time and he's so into massaging that I'm receiving 2 to 3 hour massages...I'm in heaven. This time I brought over dinner. I'm not sure if I brought dinner over out of guilt for secretly masturbating in his shower or reciprocating kindness. I'd love to hear the opinions of a hundred random people; me and my clip board at the mall, excuse me sir, madam, can I get your feedback.

We had dinner, drank wine, and continued to get to know one another. It turns out, although he completed the schooling, he actually isn't a massage therapist. He works part-time as a hairstylist and builds custom cabinets. He has the nickname with his friends as double-dose; this more explained him getting high when I came over. We cleaned up from our meal and I eagerly hopped on table while he ran out to smoke a bowl.

He went through most if the same moves as the previous week. I ended up sexually wound up again. However, he was either more high and not realizing he was clearly repeatedly rubbing my pussy as I could feel his fingers dance across my hole or he was emboldened. I couldn't help but lift my pelvis and tilt into his pressure. I wanted to feel those fingers deeper. He willingly fulfilled my need and filled my hole. I moaned hard from the satisfying pleasure. Did you know a massage table can support nearly a few thousand pounds if said pounds are still. However, add motion to the top of said table and it's only able to handle 400 to 500 tops. I'm of course for a brief second wondering what's the error. Next I know, his mouth is engulfing my pussy, lapping up my juices, sucking on my my clit, while he expertly finger fucks me with one hand, my hips grinding his face, and his other hand firmly using my breast to assist me face fucking him. I have an incredibly mind blowing release as I cum all over his face. He comes up and kisses me for the first time; his face smelling divinely like pussy. This is certainly a first--usually kissing is the prelude, but today it's cunnalingus and wow what a prelude.

His pelvis effectively demands entry between my legs. His hard throbbing cock forces its way deep into my cunt. God this is so hot and holy fuck I'm close to orgasm again. I latch on like a spider monkey and bang my clit against his pubic bone as his massive cock skewers me. I feel the build up and ride the wave hard. I let out passionate cries as my pussy clamps down on his cock as I'm in throws of orgasm. I'm firmly rubbing on him as the seconds go by and my climax is milking his dick; rhythmically squeezing and milking he cums. His sudden shudder sends me over another precipice. He collapses and asks how is it I've a bear trap in my vagina. He'd never felt a pussy hold on and stroke like a fist. I told him he'll have to further explore the phenomenon to figure it out. We went in his bedroom for another go.

A funny tidbit is the guy I was seeing, the one who lived below me, the next day asked if I heard the neighbor going at it hard. Little did he know that was me. I was surprised he didn't recognize my moans; maybe woman sound too similar or unique vocal identifiers aren't in screams of pleasure. I dated them both for a while, but the guy next door was more fun in the bedroom and the bonus of massage was too wonderful as foreplay.

I don't know if it's just me, but I think any guy/girl with a massage table and a skilled touch, whether learned or natural, can eventually move things into the realm of bedroom activities provided there's some attraction. What do YOU think? What are your experiences with massage giving/receiving?