It was Helen who had told me about this particular place; just outside Bristol, on the edge of the river, overlooking the suspension bridge. Quite an attractive redbrick building, in keeping with its neighbouring houses with wonderful deep, curved bay windows.
You got the impression that they could see you approaching but no figures could be seen from the street.
If you want a truly special and unique massage that is the place to go, she had said.
I wondered.
I suspected that my idea of a unique and special massage did not quite synergise with Helen's. But to be honest, I genuinely wasn't expecting anything other than an hour of relaxation, a time when I could drift away to unknown lands and undiscovered thoughts.
That is all I needed.
I was greeted by the ubiquitous over caked dollybird with more than a hint of tedium and false delight in her welcome.
I must be getting old. These young women would look so much fresher, more attractive if only they let their pores breathe, if only they'd scrape the heavily tinged gunk from their faces.
I was directed to the changing room where I undressed, apart from my lacy thongs, and reclothed myself in the customer uniform of the heavy towelling robe. It felt snug, and already I felt the release of walking around in a house full of people without my bra on. Liberation from bras is something that I can understand. There's such joy in whipping off a bra and just feeling no need to comply with anything.
Sod the world, sod everything, let the tits hang loose, no-one is looking.
I walked along the golden lit corridor to the relaxation room and waited for my name to be called. A tiny blond with a twenty inch waist poked her head around the door and asked for Caroline.
Not me! I was glad.
Her fingers were smooth and delicate and I had a feeling her touch would have been insipid.
Natalie then came in and called my name. Follow me, she said as she directed me into the chamber.
She was tallish, just over five and a half foot with the most beautiful, silky hair tipping into soft curls as they bounced on her shoulder. Brunette.
She was a good size; not puny, not overweight but well-made, and voluptuous in all the right places. She smiled as she explained the process, verifying that I was here for a full body massage and telling me the oils she was going to use.
She left me to de-robe and I slid impatiently and in anticipation under the provided covers.
Listen to the music and drift away, she said, as she slid back the covers and started to stroke my back in strong and determined motions.
Nice panties, she had said. Strange comment but appreciated nonetheless. Was it a come on? I doubt it. What on earth would a beautiful, very clearly heterosexual woman, ten years my junior see in me? Not that I even wanted her. Not that she was clearly heterosexual. I'm ‘clearly’ heterosexual but it doesn't stop me thinking, doesn't stop me looking or wondering.
Her touch was good and I told her. It was perfect; neither too harsh nor soft, just perfect pressure. I could feel myself drifting and worked hard on ensuring she knew I was relaxed. I untensed my muscles and flopped in response to her hand movements.
Further down my back she travelled in deep, swirling motions, tentatively clipping the waistband with her thumb by accident.
By accident. By reason? By purpose?
It happened again and as her hands switched direction to work their way horizontally over my eased back, I felt her fingers linger a little too long, tracing the line of my thongs with her thumb, catching the edge and ever so slightly flickering underneath.
I wonder if they are taught to do that, to arouse and relax the client in one fell swoop. Taught or not, it was working. The sensation of gentle, knowing fingers simulating the line of my panties always does something for me.
Anticipation is an astounding aphrodisiac; frustrating but astounding nonetheless.
I waited and enjoyed as she swooped once more from my coccyx right the way to my shoulders, pressing firmly to confirm my back massage was complete.
Untucking the towel from my panties, she pulled the cover over my back and walked towards the bottom of the couch.
Legs now. She moved the cover to reveal one of my legs and gently smoothed the oils into my calves.
I tentatively moved my legs apart; an unnoticeable move but one done to prevent them sticking together, should I accidentally emit some slight juices from my pussy.
I don’t think she noticed but as she moved from calf to thigh, I was immensely conscious of her hand going to my inner thigh, and I know that I was almost certainly moistening up should she have accidentally touched the lower part of my thongs.
I was beginning to feel the familiar feeling of juices building up when I get aroused. I tried to relax and not worry about them. Surely masseurs are used to people being turned on by their actions? They must be used to hard ons. Just not sure they are used to hard ons in a woman, but I certainly had one now. I was pulsating and desperate to feel the juice of my own pussy on my fingers. I’d have to have a wank after she had finished, before I left this room.
I must have been imagining everything for once she had travelled comfortably and confidently up and down my thighs, she simply stopped, held the cover high above her face and asked me to move over onto my back.
It wasn’t done in a harsh or clinical way, but was professional and evidently, she was not interested in seeing my body.
I moved and closed my eyes as she explained that she was now going to manipulate my neck and chest, working down to the arms and then it would be over.
I lay there as she swooped her beautiful hands over my neck and down to the start of my breasts.
I wasn’t exactly willing her to drive her hands under the cover that she had expertly placed an inch above my nipples, but I was hoping that her fingers would surreptitiously find their way beneath, just as they had with my panties.
She kept on swooping down, in deep circular motions that mocked me, drawing boobs with her hand on my chest, clipping the side of my tits with her forearm.
The cover was in the way and she carefully suggested that she might pull it down a little. There was nothing sexual in this statement. It was just a practicality. I said I’d prefer that anyway.
Maybe that was a little too forward, but she removed it anyway, and I hoped my nipples wouldn’t reveal my obvious arousal. They could just have been responding to the freshness of the air.
Although my eyes were closed I could feel her gaze as she moved her hands over my tits, carefully avoiding the nipples. It felt incredible, and I desperately wanted to finger myself as she further manipulated my tits.
And then, her hands cupped my boobs and remained there a second too long. She drew her circle again, driving her fingers down my cleavage and allowed her fingers to drift over my nipples. And then she stopped and squeezed and carefully put some pressure onto her palms which were directly over my now protruding nipples.
I opened my eyes and raised my chin towards her, still laying as still as possible, and as I did, without any warning whatsoever, she simply leaned forward and kissed my nose at the same time, squeezing my tits in a very sexual and needy way.
I smiled.
Still clasping my bosom, she moved to the side and then took both hands over to my left tit and held it, releasing my nipple to the coldness of the air. With gentle and stimulating caresses she smoothed it over and over again, and then she leant over and took a mouthful of my tit in her warm and comforting mouth.
It was sensational. I could feel her hot saliva as it trickled from her kiss as she circled my nipple with her tongue and sucked gently on its tip.
Her hand moved to my other tit as she continued to massage my nipple with her tongue.
Enough! I needed to control this. I could wait no longer.
Either my hand or hers had to get under those covers and inside my pussy. I’d parted my legs as she had sucked my tit and I am sure she had noticed this movement. This time it was intentional, deliberate, the affirmation of which I hope she approved.
I held my hand over hers, and dramatically grabbed it and slid it down the length of my body towards my white, lacy thongs.
Lingering a mere second at the edge of my panties, I pushed her hand invitingly towards my pubes.
She needed no further invitation, and without any pleas from me she traced the most natural line of my body, inserting her fingers past my labia and deep into my cunt, and for the first time in our session, her fingers moved vigorously and passionately as she finger fucked me, clearly delighted in the fuck juices she found within.
I undid her tunic and fumbled around to push my hand into her bra. Her nipple were as erect as my own and I clung onto it as she continued to find her way through the folds of my pussy, deeper and deeper toward my passion.
I was going to cum, and I feared my copious emissions might alarm her. She expertly curled her two fingers deep inside me, clipping against my G-spot, and once found pushed hard in a dramatic and familiar way.
I felt my release and I silently wailed as I erupted in a monumental gush, and as I did she released herself from my clutches and dived down to capture the juices in her mouth, licking her way around my pubes and sliding her tongue into the place where her fingers had done their tidy work seconds before.
She crouched down and placed her hands on my thighs and I fucking came again, splashing her face and moistening that beautiful hair as I did.
She moved from left to right, carefully tickling my labia with her tongue and then sliding once more into my fanny with her strong and capable tongue.
I clutched my boobs as she did this, feeling the remnants of oil to ease my journey.
She moved away and stood upright, smiling, dripping with my juices, and as she wiped them from her chin, she reinserted her fingers back into my cunt and simply rested them there as she moved around the other side of the couch, bent over and kissed me.
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