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From: suednyym@aol.com (Sue D Nyym)
Subject: "The Massage"(FF)[1/1] by Sue D. Nyym -- repost, revised
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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 slightly revised version of my story about a
woman getting a full-body massage (and then 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.
Comments are appreciated (if only so I'll know someone actually reads it).
E-mail me at SueDNyym@aol.com. Thank you.
"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 in the way she thought it would.
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, $100 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 didn'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 two hundred and fifty bucks, Penny," she told me. "So if
you don't go, I might as well have pissed away half a week'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 impression
of a cadaver. 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
nothing could bother me. <Bring on the masseuse,> I trumpeted to myself.
They led me to a small, warm, room, decorated with a few plants and paintings.
The only furniture was the 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 had 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 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 my 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. It
bordered on arousal. <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 quite a while now. Sure, 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 a while.
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 thankfully, it
soon became apparent that the pleasure wasn't going to die down. Lynn worked my
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. But I didn't know just how stunning, until 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 massaged my entire foot with her thumbs. 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 pressed firmly with her
fingertips and moved them slowly up and down the length of my sole. I was
feeling like a puddle of jelly.
As she picked up my other foot to repeat the entire process, 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 Lynn was concentrating too
much on my foot to notice my face. But surely she could smell my pussy too.
Well, she wasn't giving any indication if she did. Maybe women were constantly
oozing all over her table. Okay, 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 ... or ass. 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 me, just far enough to allow me to
wrap my arms sound her neck and kiss her hard. I could 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?!?>
Turns out Lynn WAS leaning over me, bent at the waist, her thick braid hanging
down so it brushed the table. Her chest was mere inches from my face ... never
did heavy, white cotton look so good. I was hard to tell the exact 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, press my breasts into hers, 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 children), and I was thankful for this as Lynn stroked it,
seeking out those tight muscles. 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 "Hurrgrummph!" She just smiled and
started to gently stroke my delicate insides with her talented fingers. She
ever-so-slowly slid her fingers out of my pussy, and then just as slowly
slipped 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. I'd never had a multiple
before, and I wasn't prepared for the pleasure to instantly double in the blink
of an eye. 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 delicious
circular motion with her thumb, I knew I was done for. And sure enough, within
seconds, yet another massive orgasm claimed me, the pleasure soaring to
seemingly impossible heights.
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 caressed my back lovingly and whispered
in my ear: "The orgasms were a bonus. I could tell you needed that much more
than just 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
[Don't forget ... please drop me a line! SueDNyym@aol.com ... And please feel
free to share it with your friends.]
June 20, 1998
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