The Masseur

Jason worked as a masseur. Even after all this time, he still enjoyed the relaxed atmosphere of the spa, the soft music, the aroma of incense and oils. Most of all, he enjoyed the pleasure his touch could bring to another. He’d learned to play piano as a child and the act of touching another person’s body with his strong, nimble hands reminded him of playing a challenging piece. You played with a gentle touch here, a little pressure there, until your client became your instrument and her sighs and moans your symphony

Jason especially looked forward to Wednesday mornings. That was when Alexis Carter sought relief from muscles strained during her hard fought tennis matches. Tan and supple, he guessed her to be in her early thirties. She was a tall, dark haired beauty with high flaring cheek bones, wide-set brown eyes and long, muscular limbs. A self-assured and well-known real estate agent, she was divorced and had a reputation for running with a fast crowd.

Jason was standing at the counter when Alexis pulled up in her BMW convertible. He watched as she exited the car and strode across the parking lot. She wore a hot pink top and matching skirt that ended several inches above her knees. When she bent over to tie her shoe, Jason waited for the glint of pink panties underneath. Yes, there it was.

“He-ey,” Alexis sang out, stretching the word into two syllables. “It’s my favorite masseur.” Although she gave Jason her usual brilliant smile and peck on the cheek, her carefree demeanor seemed to mask some inner turmoil this morning. Perhaps the tone of her voice was a little flat, her kiss somewhat perfunctory. It was hard to say.

“Hi there,” Jason beamed in return. “Come on in.”

Jason had acquired Alexis as a referral from another client, Leslie, a compact blonde that reminded him of the high school cheerleaders he’d lusted after in high school. She and Alexis had met and become friends in an aerobics class while Alexis was going through her divorce.

“You’ve got to do this,” Leslie had gushed to Alexis at a neighborhood barbecue. “This man has the most amazing hands.”

Alexis had smiled wickedly. “Well, I look forward to finding out.”

Although there had been certain sexual tension between him and Alexis from the beginning, so far they’d left it at that. Not that he didn’t harbor his fantasies, not that she didn’t flirt with him. It was just that he’d done his best over the years to maintain professionalism in his practice. Maybe he was overreacting to friends who thought the only reason he’d become a masseur was to meet women, when the truth was meeting women had never been a problem. Women had always been attracted to his soft, blue eyes and, of course, his hands. He supposed it was his gift that he could unlock a woman’s soul with his hands.

This morning, Alexis leaned on the counter and fixed him with a serious look. “I need this so much,” she said.

“Well, come on in.” Jason tossed a towel over his shoulder and motioned her inside.

She reached for Jason’s free hand and followed after him. “I’m right here.”

Alexis preferred world music with a Brazilian beat to the wispy Celtic sound than many women enjoyed with their massage. She also preferred a deep Swedish-style rub that would have left many clients protesting in pain and sore for days. And, unlike many of his female clients who insisted on wearing panties, Alexis routinely stripped naked. Although their sessions had remained on a professional level, Jason was keenly aware that she hadn’t flinched when, in the past, he’d run his hands up the back of her thighs and over her bare buttocks.

After giving Alexis a few minutes to disrobe, he entered the room and found her stretched out face down under a sheet that came only midway up her back. He couldn’t help but notice that the sheet stopped short of covering the bulge of her athletic breasts pressed against the cot. She wore her black hair cut short, giving him a full view of the heartbreakingly beautiful curve of her neck and the muscles across her shoulders. Everything about Alexis spoke to her sensuality and she knew it. Jason liked that about her—a woman who knew what she wanted and how to get it.

“Anything special you want me to concentrate on today?” He asked. He always asked this. Most clients wanted greater emphasis placed on their neck and shoulders to relieve the stress of hunching over a desk or a computer for long hours. A few runners wanted more attention to their legs.

“Just the usual,” Alexis murmured. “Only more.”

“Sure, hon,” he whispered.

“It’s been a tough few days,” she confided. “The guy I’ve been seeing…I don’t know…things aren’t working out.”

Ah, there it was. His initial observation had been accurate—beneath that self-assured exterior, Alexis Carter was as capable of feeling pain and rejection as anyone else.

“Sorry, to hear that,” he commiserated.

“Well,” she sighed, “it happens.”

He loved her voice, breathy and hoarse and reminiscent of the voice of a woman he’d once met on an out-of-town business trip.

The woman had given him her number at the reception, but balked at joining him for a one-on-one drink when he called. When he’d returned from dinner later that same evening with a group of guys who were also there for the meeting, he’d been surprised to discover that she’d left a message. They’d ended up chatting late into the night, finally segueing into the steamiest phone sex he’d ever enjoyed. Her voice, the memory of which Alexis’ evoked, had coaxed three orgasms out of him in as many hours. Judging from her screams, the woman had been right there with him. He’d never seen or talked to her since.

Jason removed Alexis’ favorite oil from the cabinet and bathed his hands in it. The oil, a combination of orange, cloves and cinnamon promised to relax. He added a drop of the peppermint that promised to stimulate, and began at her temples. He reached under the silky strands of her hair and rotated his fingers in circles. As her breathing slowed and grew deeper, he went to her hands.

Alexis’ fingers were long and slender like her limbs, her nails painted red and always perfectly manicured. More than once, he’d pictured those fingers with the red splash wrapped around his cock, stroking him while she gazed into his eyes and licked her lips in anticipation of her creamy reward. As he slid his fingertips in and out of the web between each digit, ground his knuckles into her palm, Alexis emitted a moan from deep in her throat.

“I love your hands,” she said softly.

“They’re at your disposal,” he told her.

He worked his way up the length of each arm, the sinewy muscles like cords of steel wire. He pressed hard into the deltoids, dug into the taut knots at the base of Alexis’ skull, pushed against the tension.

“God,” she breathed,”I’m so wired, Jason. Your touch is incredible, soft and hard at the same time.”

The need in her voice urged his heart to beat faster. “Just let go,” he whispered. She’d never felt so tight. He wanted to take the tension away, help her relax until she melted in a puddle on his cot.

He slowly made his way to her feet. She’d left them under the sheet and when he lifted the sheet away, he couldn’t resist a glimpse underneath. For a nano-second he had a view all the way to the dark triangle between her thighs. As the sheet settled back onto the cot, a scent from underneath reached his nostrils—essence of Alexis—heat and sweat and sex. The aroma nearly overwhelmed him.

He applied more oil to his hands. For as tall as she was, her feet were small, fitting easily into the palm of his hand. He caressed them lovingly, spreading the metatarsals, lubricating the space between each toe, kneading the arches. Then, almost imperceptibly—in fact, at first he thought he was imagining it—her legs opened and her hips began to squeeze together under the sheets in rhythm to the music playing in the background. The sheet had melded to the form of her body and he could make out the deep crevice between her buttocks, the muscles of her thighs. He continued to massage her foot as if her were making love to her through the sole and heel.

“Your hands are heaven,” she said in a voice like the susurration of the night wind. “It feels so good.”

“Sometimes it’s like that,” he reassured her, “sometimes it’s better than others.”

“I need this,” Alexis said. “I really need to be touched. You don’t know.”

But, Jason could feel her need, could hear it in her voice, could see it as she ground her pelvis against the cot. He continued to squeeze and stroke.

“I understand,” he managed.

He knew that some women masturbated after he finished massaging them—he’d noticed the time it took them to emerge, had heard sounds of their self-pleasure through the door, had witnessed the glow on their faces afterwards. But he’d never experienced anything like this, and who would have guessed Alexis Carter. It just you went to show that you never knew when it came to matters of the heart.

Her movements became more pronounced as he slid his hands along her hamstring muscles. Her breath quickened when he ran his hands along the inside of thighs and up and over her ass to the small of her back.

“Oh, Jason.” There was no mistaking her. This woman was begging for release and he wished for nothing more than to give it to her. But what exactly did she want, how far would she go?

He edged his hands higher. Instead of resisting, she opened her legs wider, beckoning him inside. Sure enough, the cot was damp with her juice, her thighs smeared with it. He leaned over her, whispered into her ear. “Tell me what you want, Alexis. You’re the client and I’m here for you.”

She pushed back against his hand. Her smoothly shaven pussy grazed him, leaving a thin veneer of nectar on his fingertips. She lifted her head slightly and tilted it toward him. With eyes reduced to slits, she said, “I love your hands, Jason. Do me with hands. Please Jason, please. Do me.”

He might not have believed he’d really heard her words except that no sooner had she spoken them than she began to hump the cot as if it were a lover. Her eyes were closed, but her mouth was open in a perfect “O.” Jason drew the sheet back and gasped at her athletic beauty. Her muscular back and shoulders gave way to a thin waist that flared into a derriere as round and hard as an autumn apple. Further below, her pussy, swollen with yearning, glistened in the dim light.

“Oh, my” he murmured. Although suddenly aware of his own desire, he steeled himself to focus only on her and what she ached for.

He drizzled more warm oil on his hands allowing it to drip down the crack of her ass and the oozing crease between her legs. He began to knead her buttocks as if they were loaves of bread, one cheek in each hand, lifting and separating, lifting and separating. With each motion, he watched the pink slit, open and close, as if it were winking at him. He continued, listening to the squishy sounds she made as he played that note over and over.

“Ooooh,” another moan escaped her.

With his left hand resting on her ass, he used the fingers of his right to open the outer lips of her cunt. She panted beneath his touch. Ensconced in the fleshy labia majora were her inner lips, pinker and wetter still. He opened these, revealing her vagina, dark and moist as a cave, and above it her clitoris. Oh, her clitoris. It was unlike any he’d ever seen. The prominent and engorged hood extended from her pubic bone to the opening of her slit. Peeking from inside the hood was her pleasure button itself, as large as the tip of his little finger.

Jason teased her from her pee hole to her clit. He rolled one distended lip then the other between a thumb and forefinger, all the while taking direction from Alexis’ reactions. When he placed a finger on each side of her hood and began to work them back and forth, she groaned. “Oh, baby, oh baby, oh baby.”

Next he used his left hand to spread her lips and inserted a middle finger deep inside. She was smoldering and gripped him like a vice. He moved inside her several times, then withdrew above her protests. He applied lubrication from her innermost regions to her clit. She squealed at first, then her breath went shallow as she lost herself in the pleasure. He labored over her, teased and flicked at her with slippery fingers, stimulating her to a slick froth. The sounds she made were those of a cat mewing in the night. She clinched at the sheet, clawed at it with those hot red nails.

Using a saliva wet left hand, he rubbed her clit, up and down and around, slowly increasing the speed and pressure. At the same time, he plunged two fingers of his right hand inside and began to fuck her. In and out, in and out. She fell into rhythm with him, her hips rising and falling with his thrusts. “Oh God yes,” it was a growl—her voice seemed to have dropped an octave. “Finger fuck me, yeah, just like that, just like that. Oh yeah, don’t stop.”

She buried her face in the sheets to muffle her scream. Even as she twisted and bucked beneath him, Jason continued to play her, continued to pleasure her.

When she came down from that first orgasm, he opened her wider, pushing three fingers inside her steaming cunt. Again and again she rose and fell against him, finally coming a second time when he worked a thumb into her crinkly, brown butt hole. She was so tight there, he was certain he was the only person to visit. “Ass…Ass fuck…” was all she could manage as she rode his thumb over the top.

She came for the third time when he sunk all four fingers palm-deep inside her, his thumb still wedged in her ass. He was wet to his wrist with her sweetness and, it was fuck yes, fuck yes, fuck yes. She was the client and he was the masseuse and Jason was certain he’d left her one satisfied customer.

After the spasms that racked her body subsided, she lay quietly on his cot, her breathing slow and deep. “Oh my God,” she said. “Your hands, your hands.”

He continued to stroke and rub her neck and shoulders. All of the tension was gone, drained out of her. He leaned in, his lips on her ear. “Is that what you were looking for?”

“That’s just what I needed,” she whispered. Then, she lifted her face from the pillow. “But what about you? Is there anything I can do for you?”

His cock throbbed. Even so, he fought to remain professional. “This isn’t about my pleasure, this is about yours.”

She smiled naughtily, sat up and patted the cot next to her. “Well, right now, it would please me to touch your cock,” she said.

He might have been able to resist anything else, but the thought of her most sensual of organs, her hands, stroking him was more than he could resist. He eased next to her. She reached down, undid his drawstring and unzipped his fly, releasing his cock from his baggy trousers. Her eyes widened at the sight—not that he was physically more impressive than average—but he was fully aroused and his balls hung heavy with pent up desire.

Grasping him firmly in her fist, she used her thumb to smear pre-cum around his purple, swollen head. Jason exhaled sharply. He lay back onto the cot and watched as Alexis kneeled over him. She brought her mouth near and spit a long string of saliva onto his shaft. She jacked him purposefully, while staring into his eyes.

“Oh, fuck,” he whispered.

Her eyes shifted, focusing intently on her task. Her breasts, small and firm, shimmered as she worked. On each, an inch long nipple rode atop a brown aureole no larger than a nickel. His hips began to undulate with her strokes.

“I love the way your cock feels in my hand,” she said.

“Oh, baby.”

The speed of her strokes increased. Her grip tightened. With her free hand, she cupped his balls and squeezed gently. He could see his cock head peeking out her fist with each stroke, was overcome by the dazzle of her elegant, red nails.

Then, just as he thought he would explode, she changed her pace to slow and deliberate. She stroked him with both hands, tugging with first one then the other in a hand over hand motion. She drizzled him with more saliva. It mingled with his pre-cum, converting her hands into a paradise tighter and wetter than any pussy.

When he thought he could take no more of the teasing, she grabbed his balls more roughly than before and began to pump him like a piston. The expression on her face changed from rapt attention to intense lust. “I want to see your cream,” she hissed through clinched teeth.

The first salvo grazed her chin. Two, three, four more squirts landed on her breasts and belly. She continued to milk him even as he softened, until the last drop dribbled forth and he lay limp as a baby bird in her palm. “Oh, Alexis,” he sighed.

She released him and used both hands to scoop the pooled semen from his body. She brought it first to her mouth, licking and sucking at her fingers. Next, she grasped her throat in her sticky hands and in a downward sweeping motion spread the last of his seed across her breasts. Only,when she had every ounce of it did she run her tongue over her lips and give him the same naughty smile she’d shown when they’d first met.

“I love that,” she said. “I love it more than fucking.”

Jason closed his eyes. This was a woman after his heart. He reached for her hand and entwined his fingers through hers.

“Yeah, I like it too,” he said.