For three weeks I tried to treat my aching back with everything I could, from various so-called clever advice from the internet to ointments and, of course, painkillers. The latter worked for a while, but as the drug wore off, the pain reappeared.
“Get a massage,” my colleague kept telling me over and over. “I go every other week, otherwise I would not even move. I’ll book you in with Nancy, you’ll love her.”
I didn’t want to hurt my colleague, I’m not really the type to get naked somewhere or even let total strangers touch me. But even that was more pleasant than going to the doctor, waiting in a lobby full of sneezing and coughing people and then standing in the queue at the pharmacy. But even my husband said that if I didn’t do something about my aching back, he would take me to the emergency room, where I would have to wait for hours while the overworked doctors treating bleeding people injured in accidents and heart attacks found time for my ache in my back.
So I agreed.
Nancy allegedly claimed she’d make time for me on Friday at 2:00. I’d have to take off work, but if no other date was available, I’d manage somehow. I could barely walk anymore.
I arrived five minutes early and a friendly receptionist with Asian looks led me into the room, telling me to undress, thrusting a white towel into my hand to cover myself as I laid down on the massage bed.
“Lay on belly,” she said in broken English. “Masseur come in a minute.”
The room was absolutely amazing. The dim light from a few candles, the spicy sweet scent from the incense sticks, the beautiful black and red painting on the wall that gave me a dreamy vibe. There was soft relaxing music playing, I couldn’t wait to lie down, close my eyes and relax wonderfully under Nancy’s hands.
I stripped down to just my panties, laid on my stomach and covered myself with a towel as much as possible, I was sure the masseuse would know her stuff and would only expose the parts she was going to massage.
A few minutes later the receptionist burst back in, saying “Nancy sick. Lorenzo come in a minute.” Then she pauses and adds. “Underwear off, or massage oil ruin it if you don’t.”
And she was gone.
The name gave me pause. Isn’t Lorenzo a man’s name? For a moment I considered getting dressed and reordering, but the idea of my back being relieved won out in the end. Quickly, before the masseur arrived, I dropped my panties, added them to my other clothes, then changed my mind, returned to the pile of my clothes, and put my panties under my skirt. It would make me uncomfortable if a strange man were to see my panties.
Then I lay down again and covered as broad an area of my back as I could with the towel, but mostly my whole bottom and even my thighs where the towel could reach.
I was still pulling the towel as low as I could when Lorenzo appeared. I was a little uncomfortably surprised to find that he was a really gorgeous guy. The dark type that I always liked, a massive chest that I didn’t have to imagine at all because he was only wearing tight white pants and his hairy chest was completely bare.
“Ciao bella. I am Lorenzo, relax and let me massaggiare you.”
His voice was deep and velvety and I wiggled nervously.
“My back has been hurting lately,” I explained. I lift my upper body a little as my hand tries to reach the back of my back to show the sore spot. But I realize that I’ve practically shown him my breasts by doing so, and I immediately press my torso against the bed again.
“Sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t realize…”
I let it go. I didn’t show him my breasts on purpose.
“No worries. I see your muscles are in tension. Io massaggio tutto il corpo, and your muscles will relax, your back will feel better and stop hurting.”
My Italian was very rusty, but I got the feeling he wanted to give me a full body massage.
“No,” I protested. “Just your back. My back hurts.”
“My back will stop hurting. Promise.”
While he spoke, he rubbed his palms to warm them and then poured some oil on them, and as he rubbed the oil, I could smell the refreshing scent of eucalyptus. I closed my eyes and told myself that I would let him do his job.
First he started massaging the upper back, focusing on the shoulder blades. He had big hands and deft fingers, expertly kneading my skin and the muscles underneath, using precisely measured pressure, I had to control myself from moaning at how pleasurable it was. Moaning, however, would of course have been totally inappropriate and would certainly have embarrassed him.
I really wished I had been massaged by Nancy or her female colleague, but Lorenzo seemed to be a capable masseur so it was only fair to give him a chance.
He didn’t speak, which was good, for a moment I completely forgot I was being massaged by a stranger. The music pleasantly filled the room and I closed my eyes and enjoyed the wonderful massage.
As Lorenzo massaged my stiff cervical spine as well, he gradually worked his way down to my lumbar spine, which was so sore. He gently pulled back the towel and it seemed to me that he had pulled back too much, after all I couldn’t let him look at my arse. I laughed nervously and reached back with my right hand, pulling the towel up more so my cheeks didn’t pucker even a little.
“Mi scusi, signora,” he said. It seemed more like he grunted it in a sexy deep voice and I was glad I was lying on my stomach and couldn’t see him. His sexy naked chest and very handsome face would probably embarrass me, lying there completely naked with only that bunched up towel over my hips.
After he massaged my back, he moved to my legs and started massaging my feet. I never knew how pleasurable that could be. I even realized that it was turning me on a little, which was very inappropriate. I realized all too clearly that my husband and I hadn’t made love in at least two months.
Lorenzo massaged the back of my calves and I felt them spasming.
“Relax your calf muscles,” he told me in that velvet voice of his.
“I’m trying,” I replied.
But as his hands moved higher, I felt my muscles rather stiffen. This isn’t going to work, I thought.
“Relax,” he said again.
There was no point in repeating that I was really trying, I guess I’m too uptight and can’t completely relax in his presence. That’s it, next time I come in for a massage and a man shows up, I’ll just turn around and walk away. This isn’t working.
When he started massaging the back of my thighs, I forced myself to relax a little. I counted to ten, shook my legs as the physio had taught me to do and felt better.
Lorenzo’s hands were really deft and it wasn’t his fault he was a man.
When he tried to massage my inner thighs, I cramped my muscles again and pressed my legs together violently.
“Relax. Or you will hurt yourself,” he said. He massaged my thighs with his fingers and when I did my best to relax the spasmodically clenched muscles, he gently took my right leg and moved it aside.
Then both his palms went to the inside of my thighs and I opened my eyes sharply. What the hell was going on? I had to remind myself that he wasn’t doing anything wrong, it was just a massage. I still had a towel covering my sensitive areas and the inside of my thighs, as erotic as his touches were driving me crazy, it wasn’t his fault. It’s his job.
The higher his hands went on my inner thighs, the more uncomfortable I felt. It was extremely erotic. Should I tell him? But doesn’t he know?
I fought with myself. He’s not doing anything wrong, it’s my fault I have such strong erogenous zones in these parts. I have to wait it out and try not to embarrass myself completely. It was clear to me that the more I tried to relax, the faster he would move on to other parts.
His hands moved higher and higher, and at one point his completely innocent touches were so arousing to me that I flinched, causing his hand to brush against my naked pussy.
“So sorry,” I muttered, but he didn’t answer.
Is he angry? If every one of his clients freaked out like this, he must be going crazy. I promised myself I’d give him a big tip and hopefully win him over.
That’s when he put his hands under my towel. He must have, because he was massaging my buttocks. It was extremely arousing and relaxing at the same time. It’s a good thing I had the towel in there or he must have noticed how horny and wet I was.
I mentally cursed the colleague who sent me here. Damn it, why does Nancy have to be sick today of all days?
“Turn,” he said.
I didn’t understand what he meant.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Lie on your back,” he said. He said it in that sexy voice of his, but he said it quite simply, casually. And it made sense that if it was a full-body massage, it had to include the front of my legs, my arms, and probably my shoulders from the front as well.
I awkwardly turned around while holding my boobs so that I was covering them. I held the towel with my other hand, and when I finally lay on my back, one arm still placed over my naked breasts, I adjusted the towel so that it covered my lower belly up to mid-thigh.
He began massaging my legs again, this time the front of my calves, then gently my knees. I closed my eyes again and tried to relax, but I couldn’t. It was totally inappropriate, but it was turning me on terribly. I looked at him, he was really a really attractive man. A neutral expression on his face, the muscles in his chest and arms working gently as he massaged me.
He moved from my legs to my thighs and rolled the towel higher to reach them. I realized that standing there, with how high my towel was rolled up, he could quite definitely see my pussy. And he can see how wet it is.
But he was a professional. He was looking at my legs in the places he was massaging.
“It’s all right,” I said to myself.
When he started massaging my upper thighs and his hands went to my inner thighs again, I brought my legs together abruptly. He smiled at me. His eyes were glistening softly and he looked awfully handsome. He gripped my left thigh and gently tried to push it away, but I convulsed and so he couldn’t.
“Relax,” he said. He added. “Trust me.”
So I relaxed. Unable to close my eyes, I looked at him and he returned my gaze.
He massaged my inner thighs and when he touched me on my pussy lips for the first time, I howled with pleasure. I didn’t apologize for it. Neither did he.
I realized how aroused I was. And horny. This wasn’t me at all, this wasn’t how I act, this wasn’t what I do. But it was me, lying naked on the massage bed, covered only by a small strip of white towel, my hands trying to cover my large breasts.
He had taken a few steps and was now standing behind me. He was leaning over me as if he wanted to kiss me. He massaged my hands, but it was difficult as they were spasmodically folded on my chest.
“Relax,” he said again, grabbing each of my wrists with one hand and gently pulling my hands away and placing them next to my body. This left my breasts completely exposed and I immediately noticed how hard my nipples had become.
He didn’t say anything. I looked at him and he was a professional. His eyes just watched my hands as he massaged them.
I had to remind myself that this was all me. While he was just trying to give me a good full body massage, I was all wet and insane. I really need to get laid.
At that, he walked over next to my body and with a simple gesture, as if it was no big deal, he picked up the towel, the only thing that somewhat protected me from being completely exposed, from being completely naked, and placed it somewhere behind him.
I lay there, fully naked, my legs slightly spread, my pussy wet, I could feel the wetness in the air and he must have felt it too. My big breasts were a little spread apart, my nipples completely stiff.
He began to gently massage my tummy. I wasn’t concentrating at all, my muscles were clenched around my crotch. He smiled at me and told me to trust him. Let me relax.
And he started massaging the inside of my thighs again, only this time he rolled his thumb up and used it to tease the entrance to my totally wet and aroused pussy. I let him.
With his other hand he began to knead my breasts. At first it looked like he was massaging the breast, only then he started playing with my nipple. With his other hand he went inside my pussy with his fingers and this time he played with my clit with his thumb.
I realized I was moaning with pleasure.
He smiled at me.
He slid his fingers deeper and began to massage me from inside my pussy. His thumb kept circling my clit, his other hand teasing my breasts. And he was very sexy doing it.
There was no way I was going to make it. My arousal was growing stronger and I was now moving my pelvis to synchronize my movements with his. I was nearing climax.
“Piano,” he said. And he added in English, “Slowly.”
Again, no chance. I couldn’t control myself, and screams of pleasure tore from my lips. He picked up the pace and so did I. I hadn’t had an orgasm this explosive in years. It was so strong, so powerful.
When it was over, I was left lying helpless. And completely relaxed. I felt like my arms and legs had turned into rag doll shreds. When I tried to look at Lorenzo, I found that he had disappeared. He must have covered me at some point, because I had put the towel back on.
The door opened, the Asian receptionist came in.
I tried to sit down.
“Are you okay, ma’am?” she said matter-of-factly.
“Yes… yes, I think so,” I replied. Then, as she was leaving, I hastily added. “Is Lorenzo free next Friday, same time?”
Feeling Oh-So-Relaxed? A Little Extra Tip for Your Handsome Masseur Never Hurt!
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