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From: suednyym@aol.com (Sue D Nyym)
Subject: "The Massage"(FF)[1/1] by Sue D. Nyym
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WARNING: The following is intended for mature audiences only. It contains
explicit descriptions of sex between two females. Proceed only if you are at
least 18 years of age and not offended by the beautiful act of lovemaking.
NOTES FROM THE AUTHOR: This is a little something I wrote while I had writers'
block on another story. It's about a woman getting a full-body massage (and
them some) from another woman.
Feel free to repost, archive, or otherwise copy this story -- under the
following conditions: 1) Please E-mail me if you intend to do so. 2) It is to
be KEPT IN ITS ENTIRETY, including disclaimers. 3) It must always be available
to everyone, FREE OF CHARGE. Thank you.
Comments are appreciated, if only so I know this actually gets read. E-mail me
at SueDNyym@aol.com.
"THE MASSAGE"
by Sue D. Nyym
Copyright (C) 1998
It wasn't really my idea to begin with. In fact I actively avoided it. But my
best friend insisted on it. She said it would change my life. And I guess it
DID change my life, just not the way she thought.
The "it" I'm referring is a full-body massage. My best friend Michelle swears
by them. One of her favorite lines is: "Stress would have killed me already if
it wasn't for my masseuse."
I was skeptical. First of all, $200 a session was a lot of money. But more
important, I was really uncomfortable with the idea of a total stranger
touching me all over. Even my husband doesn't do that anymore. So no matter how
much Michelle nagged me about it, I refused to go.
But I had underestimated Michelle's stubbornness. She found a way to force me
to go. Or, more accurately, guilt me into it. On my twenty-seventh birthday she
gave me a gift certificate for an all-day treatment at the spa she goes to.
"That thing cost me five hundred bucks, Penny," she told me. "So if you don't
go, I might as well have pissed away half a month's salary."
So I went. What could I do? Guilt can be a hazardous weapon when turned on you.
- - -
The Saturday after my birthday I got up bright an early. If I was going to go
through with this, I might as well make a day of it. Before I left I kissed my
husband good-bye. Not that he noticed, still asleep, doing his best zombie
impression. He would probably be sleeping off his night out with the boys until
well past noon. <Oh well> I thought, <at least he was too drunk to fuck last
night.>
I arrived at the spa at 8:00 sharp. Despite my initial uneasiness, I ended up
having fun. They gave me a mudbath, a bodywrap, and an elaborate facial. After
a light, "totally organic" lunch, I spent some time in the hot tub and the
steam room. I couldn't help but relax and enjoy myself.
Then came the dreaded massage. Of course at this point I was so at ease noting
could bother me. <Bring on the masseuse> I trumpeted to myself.
They led me to a small, warm, sparsely decorated room. The only thing inside
was a narrow, padded massage table. There was a built-in hole at one end of
the table, made to put for face into, so you didn't have to turn your head
while lying down.
I was told to disrobe and make myself comfortable. My masseuse would be with me
in a moment.
And when they said "disrobe," they meant it literally. All I was wearing was a
short, white terrycloth robe. When I'd first arrived, they told me to strip.
Little did I know I would stay naked practically the whole day. But it was a
women-only spa, so I felt comfortable. I have a good figure, and I like to show
it off sometimes.
I slipped off the robe without a second thought -- by now my nakedness seemed
utterly natural -- and hung it on a hook on the back of the door.
I boosted myself up on the table and sat there a moment, hands resting on my
bare thighs, my bare feet swinging in the air. I noticed for the first time
soothing, piped-in music. I sighed heavily. Maybe Michelle did know what she
was talking about.
It wasn't even a minute before the masseuse entered. For some reason I had been
expecting a hulking middle-aged woman with a gruff voice. But I couldn't have
been more wrong.
This woman was actually a petite beauty of Asian decent. Quite young, probably
still in her teens. Like all other spa employees, she was dressed in a
form-fitting cotton jumpsuit. So white it almost hurt you eyes. Her glossy
black hair was tied back in a long braid. She was absolutely darling.
"Good afternoon," she said, without a trace of accent. Despite her apparent
ethnic background she was as American as I was. "I'm Lynn."
"I'm Penny," I said.
"Nice to meet you," she said. "Now if you'll just lie down on your stomach, we
can get started."
I did as I was told, laying face down, my arms to my sides, and my face stuck
in the little hole. All I could see was a two-foot section of the floor below
me. <They should put a TV down there or something> I thought, smiling to
myself.
Almost immediately I felt her hands on my back. Slippery and warm. She must
have oiled them with something. At first she simply glided her hands up and
down my back, maybe just to help me get used to her touch. After a moment she
began to knead my shoulders, pausing every now and then to single out muscles
with her thumbs. It felt incredible. I groaned without even thinking about it.
"Ah-ha," Lynn said. "You've needed this done for a long time, haven't you?"
"Yes, I guess I have," I said, talking at the floor.
Lynn's hands continued working my shoulders, slowly moving in toward my neck.
When she reached my neck, she wrapped her fingers around it and sort of dragged
them along my flesh. It was intoxicating. My body tingled everywhere she
touched me. I couldn't believe the wonderful sensations I was feeling.
She used her thumbs to loosen the muscles all down my spine, and then without
missing a beat, her hands were on my ass. I was startled, but I did a good job
of hiding it. <Boy> I thought, <when they say full-body massage, they mean it.>
She was using all ten fingers to knead my buttocks, one cheek at a time. The
wonderful sensations intensified. It felt very good. Almost TOO good. Bordering
on aroused. <Should I be feeling aroused with a woman touching me like this?> I
tried not to worry about it.
Was it just me, or did Lynn seem to be spending an extra-long time on my ass?
After the kneading stopped, she started rubbing her fingertips back and forth
over the sensitive flesh, occasionally stopping to work a point or two with her
thumbs. She even massaged the area around my tailbone.
All the while pleasure radiated out all over my body. I moaned loudly. <What is
happening to me?>
Well, I had to face it. I was enjoying this on a sexual level. It had been so
long since I felt this way, I hadn't recognized it at first. I was turned on,
and it was sadly unfamiliar to me. Probably because my sex life had been all
but nil for a while. Sure, I my husband and I fuck now and again (trust me,
that is the only way to describe it), but he has never been able to bring me to
climax. Pretty soon all I had was masturbation, but even that loses its flare
after awhile.
I honestly could not remember the last time I was so turned on, let alone the
last time I had an orgasm. <The first time in years that I'm sexually aroused,
and it's with a woman just doing her job. Go figure.>
I was almost disappointed when Lynn moved onto my thighs. But it soon became
apparent that the pleasure wasn't going to die down. Lynn worked the outer and
inner thighs, as well as the back of them. Her fingers and palms danced over my
skin expertly, innocently seeking out those tight muscles. Except during these
"innocent" searches she would touch, caress, and fondle some pretty sensitive
areas.
The pleasure was stunning. So stunning I felt my pussy get moist. <I knew I was
turned on> I thought, shocked, <but I didn't think it was enough to soak the
massage table!>
Abandoning my thighs, Lynn spent some time on the back of my knees
(wonderful!), along the length of my calves (amazing!), and eventually worked
her way down to my ankles.
"Okay," Lynn said, "time to turn over now."
It took a moment to turn over on the narrow table. When I finally laid back, I
found the back of my head also fit nicely into the built-in hole.
Lynn cradled one of my feet in both of her hands. At first I was mystified.
What could she possible do with my feet? Turns out I can be woefully naive
sometimes.
She pressed the balls of her thumbs into the center of my sole, and began
rubbing in tiny circles. It felt so good I think I almost fainted. Eventually
she ran her thumbs over my entire foot. Sole, heel, instep, the top of my foot,
and finally each toe individually. I was in heaven. But she didn't stop there.
After the treatment with her thumbs, she repeated the process with her
fingertips. I was feeling like a puddle of jelly. Then she did the whole thing
over again with my other foot. Pure bliss.
As she worked the second foot, I started catching whiffs of a tantalizing
aroma. It was a lovely scent, but not in the same way as perfume or flowers.
Vaguely familiar, yet I couldn't place it ... and then it donned on me. My
pussy. I was so wet I could smell my own pussy. <Exactly how turned on am I,
anyway?>
I could feel my face blush bright red. Thank God no one could see it at this
angle. Surely Lynn could smell it too. But she wasn't giving any indication if
she did. Maybe women were constantly oozing all over her table. Well, if she
chose to ignore it, so could I.
After my feet Lynn moved onto my right hand and arm. Starting at the center of
my palm, and then moving out from there along each finger. My forearm was next
-- a lengthy pause at the back of my elbow -- and on up my upper arm.
She stood directly behind me to do my face. Stroking and rubbing her fingertips
over my forehead, temples, cheeks, nasal passages, lips, chin, and throat. If
you've ever had someone stroke your face, you know how inexplicably wonderful
this feels.
She didn't forget my left arm, which she worked from the top down. It felt
wonderful, but not nearly as erotic as a moment ago, when she was doing my feet
... or thighs. Which was actually a relief, it gave me an opportunity to
recover somewhat. It didn't last long, however, because the next item on her
list was my chest.
Lynn started off gradually, moving across each collarbone, and then along my
breastbone ... all the way down between my breasts.
I held my breath as she took one of my breasts in each of her strong,
long-fingered hands. My breasts are not small -- a C-cup -- but they seemed to
fit her grip perfectly. I felt my nipples grow stiff against her palms as she
squeezed and manipulated my flesh with her fingers.
I sighed huskily and closed my eyes as the pleasure coursed through me. I
slipped into a vision of Lynn leaning over just a little bit more, just enough
so I could wrap my arms sound her neck and kiss her hard. Run my fingers
through her black, flowing hair (she'd have to lose that braid), and suck her
sweet tongue into my mouth.
My eyes snapped open. <Good God, what am I thinking?!?>
Lynn WAS leaning over me, bent at the waist, her thick braid hanging down
around her waist. Her chest was mere inches from my face, never did heavy white
cotton look so good. I was hard to tell the size of her breasts through the
fabric, but they couldn't be very big. Quite small in fact, I could hardly see
a bulge.
I suddenly found myself wondering how those tiny breasts would feel pressed
against my flesh. If Lynn would just swing one leg over the table, I could grab
her ass and pull her close, slip my tongue down her throat.
I shook my head. The visions wouldn't go away. I was in an erotic stupor. I
wanted so badly to touch my cunt ... or better yet, have HER touch it.
Lynn released my breasts from her grip, but immediately pressed her thumbs to
my nipples, immediately rubbing in that delicious circular motion. My eyeballs
rolled up in my head as I let loose a chest-rattling moan.
Lynn glanced at me. She was smiling broadly, and shot me a quick wink. All I
could do was stare back at her wide-eyed, my mouth hanging open. She gave my
nipples one last brief pinch, and then decided it was time to move to my
stomach.
I've managed to keep my tummy nice and flat over the years (thanks, in no small
part, to not having kids), and I was thankful for this as Lynn stroked it. She
even dipped her pinky finger in my bellybutton and wiggled it around. I
squirmed in pleasure.
I couldn't help but notice that her fingers were inches from my dark nest of
pubic hair. <Just a little lower please!> my mind begged, but I didn't quite
dare say it out loud. When Lynn's hands went to my left hip, I sorely regretted
not speaking my mind.
My legs appeared to be next. My left leg was first, most likely because that
was where Lynn was already standing. Again, she worked the outer and inner
thigh, as well as the top, taking her time, eventually making her way around my
kneecap.
My mind was almost numb, I couldn't imagine the pleasure building any more
without some kind of release. Ooohh, release ... that sounded so fabulous.
I guess because there are no muscles in the shin, Lynn skipped it altogether.
She quickly walked around to the other side of the table to get started on my
right thigh. Again, she carefully administered the entire treatment. I began to
wonder if was possible to die from being denied climax.
Suddenly, her attitude changed a little. She placed the flat of her hand about
midway down my thigh, eased it around to the inside, and then looked at me
sharply. As her eyes searched my face, her hand slowly inched upward toward my
crotch.
My body was tingling fiercely all over, I could almost hear it audibly buzzing.
Her intense gaze was a little unnerving, but I think I got the message. She
wanted be make sure this is what I wanted, her hand slowly but surely working
its way toward my dripping pussy.
YES! I wanted to shout. TOUCH IT! But all I could mange was a nod. It was
enough. She nodded in return, and then turned her attention back to her hand
and my thigh. Her hand began to move a little more swiftly, and she started
wiggling her fingers over my flesh.
Feeling a little more bold now that I knew we were on the same wavelength, I
parted my thighs a little wider. As wide as I comfortably could on such a
narrow surface.
Finally, she length of her finger brushed against the center of my aching slit.
I spasmed with a jolt of pleasure and cried out. Blessedly, Lynn didn't waste
any time. She ran her fingertips over my glistening pink, knowing just where to
stroke.
I was already so close it didn't take much. I came like a banshee. Pleasure
bombarded me from all sides. I tried desperately to muffle my shrieks as I
repeatedly and uncontrollably thrust my pelvis in the air.
Suddenly my muscles gave out on me. I collapsed and tried to hold perfectly
still, as jolts of pleasure still spasmed through me.
Before I could completely recover, Lynn inserted two fingers deep into my wet
snatch. Shocked, I cried out something like "Hugumph!" She just smiled and
started to gently stroke my delicate insides with her talented fingers. She
would ever-so-slowly slide her fingers out of my pussy, and then just as slowly
slip them back in. Out ... in ... out ... in ... She paused with them fully
inserted, long enough to wiggle them.
That did it! I was seized by another powerful climax. My first ever multiple. I
had to bite my hand to keep from hollering.
After what seemed like an eternity, the universal pleasure began to abate. But
again, Lynn was merciless. She pressed hard on my clit with her thumb. I gasped
loudly, suddenly unable to get enough air. When she started that circular
motion with her thumb, I knew I was done for. And sure enough, within seconds,
another massive orgasm claimed me.
I went into uncontrollable convulsions, flipping over on the table and burying
my face in the padded surface to stifle my screams. I pounded my fists and
kicked my feet. I was naked on a massage table, having by far the most
tremendous orgasm of my life. (Looking back, it was a rather embarrassing
display.)
Finally, Lynn seemed to be satisfied. When I eventually calmed down to the
point where I could control myself, she rubbed my back lovingly and whispered
in my ear: "The orgasms were a bonus. I could tell you needed that more than a
massage." That said, she left the room.
I stayed where I was for a long while, sweaty and panting. I hoped no one would
come in and see me, but I also wasn't about to move any time soon.
It was a full fifteen minutes before I felt strong enough to move. I walked
across the room on rubbery legs and slipped on my robe. I stepped outside the
room and told the staff I was done for today. All I wanted was a long shower
and warm bed. They seemed to understand.
- - -
That took place two years ago. Since then I have divorced my loser husband and
moved in with a 30-year-old woman and her two young children. I never
considered myself a lesbian, any maybe I still don't even now. All I know is
that I LOVE my life now. I have a wonderful family, and a fun job. Plus sex is
actually something to look forward to, enjoy, and revel in.
Thank you, Lynn, wherever you are.
THE END
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