Masseur's Magic Hands

I shift in place under the towel draped over me. It feels weird to be waiting naked like this.

I’m supposed to be relaxing, but I’m too nervous. I’ve never had a massage before. Did I fold my clothes well enough? Will my masseuse judge me for how I folded them?

This place is nice. Way nicer than I would have normally picked for myself. My friends got a whole spa day package for me as a gift. I’ve already had a fancy breakfast, a footsoak, and a mud bath. Now it’s time for a massage. A whole two hour session. I didn’t even know that you could get a massage that long.

I take a breath and will myself to relax. Today is supposed to be nice. The whole spa is slow and quiet and calming, but the anticipation here is killing me. I’m tempted to get up and see if my masseuse is ready.

“Ready?”

Ah. Right on cue.

“Uh, sure!”

“Thank you for your patience—oh.”

Uh oh.

“Uh.”

I know this man.

“Hi?”

“Hi.”

I haven’t seen him since last year. We were both travelling for different work conferences. We met in a hotel bar, and the rest is history. Our fling was short and sweet—very sweet—but that’s all it was—a fling. I never thought I’d see him again. Especially not here.

“I thought you worked in sports medicine.”

“I uh—I do that sometimes, but mostly I’m a masseuse.”

I feel my face flush. I really should have known what his job was. Just…there wasn’t really time for questions like that.

“So…”

I look him up and down. Just because I didn’t think I’d see him again doesn’t mean I forgot him. He’s just as hot as I remembered, tall and muscular.

I remember him being confident in himself and his body, but right now he seems nervous, hovering by the door.

“Are you…”

“Listen, if you’d like, I can go get someone else.”

“What? Why?”

“I want to make sure you’re comfortable. You didn’t know it was going to be me, I didn’t know it was going to be you. I just—yeah.”

I pause and think about it. Yes, it might be awkward to have him be the one massaging me since we know each other, but on the other hand…”

“It’s fine if it’s you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

I fidget with the corner of the towel, weaving it between my fingers.

“I’ve never had a massage before.”

“Oh wow. Yeah. I don’t want to make it weird for you.”

“Honestly, I was already nervous before you walked in. I think having someone I know doing the massaging will make it easier for me.”

He puts his hands up in a mock surrender and sits down on a chair and gives me his full attention.

“If you’re comfortable having me here, then I’m more than happy to stay. You’re the one in charge here. If you’re uncomfortable, just say the word.”

“Okay.”

“I know we have um…” “History together. But I want you to know that I’m going to keep it strictly professional.”

My thoughts wander to our “shared history” and I bite my lip.

“Sure. Sounds good.”

“Good. Okay. Go ahead and lay back down—on your stomach please—while I get some things set up.”

I turn over and adjust the towel so it lays flat across my back. With my head turned to the side, I watch him getting set up. He moves around the room with a practiced ease, clearly in his element.

He turns on a small salt lamp and dims the overhead light, giving the room a cozy feel.

“It says here you picked jasmine for your aroma therapy. Is that right?”

“Y-yes, that’s right.”

“Good choice.”

He adds a few drops of jasmine oil to a small humidifier and turns it on. It hums softly, adding more ambiance to the room. The anticipation is killing me. I grip the towel under my hands.

“You should be able to smell that soon, it just needs a minute to get going.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“I can see how tense you are.”

“I’m not tense!”

“Um…You’re white knuckling that towel.”

I release my grip, embarrassed. I take a deep breath and do my best impression of a relaxed person.

“Hmm. That’s better, but you’re still not quite there.”

“Come on, cut me some slack! I’m nervous!”

“Well, helping you relax is my whole job. Are you ready to start?”

“Oh, uh. Sure. Are you ready?”

“Almost. I just have one more question.”

“Go for it.”

“Is there anywhere that’s off limits for you? Anything you don’t want me to touch? Or old injuries I should look out for?”

I know it’s a routine question, but my thoughts rush to all the parts of me he’s touched. He asked me a similar question back then—in my hotel room—and I blush as I give him the same response I gave before.

“Nope. Everything’s fair game.”

“Right! Cool! Well, uh, with that in mind, go ahead and close your eyes and we’ll get started.”

With my eyes closed, all my other senses heighten. My own breathing feels so loud in the quiet of the room. The smell of jasmine floods my nose.

“Ready?”

“Mhmm.”

His voice is closer than it was before. It sounds like he’s standing right beside my shoulder.

“I’m going to fold back the towel now.”

Cool air hits my spine as he lifts the towel draped over me and folds it down. It rests right above my hips, giving him full access to my back. I shiver involuntarily at the chill, and I feel goosebumps prickling on the back of my neck.

“Sorry, I know it’s chilly. I’ll warm you up soon.”

“Starting with light pressure…”

His hands are warm and slick as they slide across my shoulders and down my back. He caresses every inch of my exposed skin, working the oil in.

His thumbs trace long lines up my back, across my shoulders, and back down my sides. It feels heavenly. How had I never done this before?

“You have a lot of tension built up here.”

“Mmm.”

He focuses on my shoulders, increasing his pressure and working his fingers in a circular motion.

“Pressure okay?”

“Mmmhm. It’s perfect.”

“That’s what I like to hear.

He moves up to my neck—rubbing at the spot right behind my jawline.

“Do you grind your teeth in your sleep?”

“Sometimes. When I’m stressed.”

“Have you been stressed lately?”

“Mmm. I guess so.”

“I guess I’ll just have to make sure I thoroughly de-stress you today.”

He’s still working at the spot under my ear. The pressure was nice before, but now it’s a bit too much.

“Could you go a bit easier there?”

“Of course. How’s this?”

He works the same spot, but lightens up the pressure.

“Much better, thanks.”

“You know your body best.”

He’s always been like this. Always listening to what I had to say. Paying attention to the way my body responds—so attentive.

It reminds me of all those nights in hotel rooms I’d only expected it to be a one-night thing, but we just kept coming back to each other.

He slides his hands back down, focusing on my shoulder-blades this time. His hands move in tandem, working out the knots with ease.

“Pressure okay?”

“Mmmm, maybe a bit harder”

“Harder. Got it.”

He presses harder, digging into all the places that get sore after a long day of work.

“Good?”

“You know it is.”

He slides his hands up and down again, keeping the rest of my back warm. On his last pass down, he drags his nails ever so slightly, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

He smooths his hands side to side over my hips, thumbs skirting the edge of the towel.

“You carry tension here too.”

“Hm? Oh… mmhm.”

He presses into my hips in hard, rhythmic, circular strokes—digging into places I didn’t even know were sore.

“Pressure good?”

“Perfect.”

He uses his knuckles to gently dig into the dimples by my hips. My back arches, and I fight to keep myself still. He’s way too good at this.

“Still good?”

Was there a reason we ended our fling? I’m sure there was, but with his magic hands working on my back, I can’t think of anything.

I relax deeper into the massage table. I knew massages were nice, but I never knew they were this nice. This is heaven.

He presses into a spot against my spine just right…

His hands are gone, just like that.

“Um…”

I feel a flush rise on my face. I hadn’t meant to moan like that, it just slipped out.

“Are you… Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? If that was painful, I can move to a different area.”

My face flames. I don’t want him to think that it hurt, but I also don’t want to confess that I just moaned.

“I’m sorry, it’s just– it felt really good.”

“What?”

I take a deep breath, steeling myself for embarrassment.

“It felt good.”

“Ah. I see.”

“Sorry. I made this weird. You’re being very professional, and I’m not.”

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m the one working here, your only job is to be relaxed. If you’re enjoying it…that much, then I’m doing something right.”

“Well, you always knew how to make me weak.”

“I’m glad you’re feeling good.”

He stays professional, but his voice is deeper now, huskier. I squirm slightly on the massage table. I’ve missed him more than I thought.

He slides his hands back into the place they were before, working at the same spot.

“Is the pressure good?”

“It’s perfect.”

He slides his hands back up my spine and his thumbs press firm circles into my shoulder blades. I can feel my body reacting to his touch—getting wet.

“Still good?”

“Mmm. Yes.”

He glides his hands across and down my shoulders, barely brushing against the gentle swell of the sides of my breasts. I can feel my nipples hardening where they’re pressed against the massage table.

“I’ve been—thinking about you.”

“You have?”

“Mmmhm.”

“What were you thinking about me?”

“I’ve been thinking about all the other ways you’ve made me moan.”

“I’m trying to keep it professional here.”

“What if I told you I didn’t want you to?”

“Oh yeah?”

“What if I told you how wet I am?”

There’s a pause, and I worry that I’ve misread the whole situation. Is he going to go get someone else after all?

“Turn over.”

My body thrums with arousal as I turn over. The towel slips and falls off the table, exposing me. I reach down for it.

“Leave it.”

He stares at me, eyes slowly taking me in. He lingers on my breasts where my nipples are stiff and waiting. His eyes slide downward, and I spread my legs so he can see just how wet I am.

“All for you.”

“Lie back.”

I bite my lip and do as he says. I love when he takes the lead like this.

“Close your eyes.”

“Okay.”

I listen closely, trying to pinpoint where he is and what he’s doing.

I hear him right beside me, putting oil in his hands. I open my eyes ever so slightly, catching a glimpse of him.

“Ah, ah, ah, keep them closed.”

I close them again, smiling slightly.

“Good. Ready?”

“Mmhm.”

He starts on my stomach, his hands sliding up and down spreading the oil around.

“I love seeing you like this. All laid out for me.”

He circles my breasts, but doesn’t touch them yet. I arch my back into his strokes.

“Is there anything off limits? Anywhere you don’t want me to touch?”

“No—nowhere. Please touch me.”

Finally, he slides his hands over my breasts, circling my nipples before he rolls them between his slick fingers.

“Pressure good?”

“Yeah—feels good.”

He keeps one hand toying with my nipple and slides the other down. He ghosts over my core just once as a warning before he dips two fingers inside. He starts a slow, even rhythm, looking for the spot that’ll make me feel good.

“God, you’re so good for me, so wet.”

He pulls his fingers out of me and caresses my thigh instead. His other hand never stops toying with my nipple. I jerk my hips up, chasing his touch.

“Be patient.”

He caresses my thigh one more time before dipping his fingers back into me. He finds my g-spot and strokes it with his fingers.

“That’s it. Keep your eyes closed. Focus on me—on my hands.”

As soon as I get used to the rhythm of his fingers inside me, he pulls them out again.

“What?”

“I told you, be patient.”

He slides his hand back up, and uses both hands to massage my breasts. He alternates between gliding over my nipples and rolling them between his fingers. I arch up into his touch, desperate for more.

“Please!”

“‘Please’ what?”

“Please touch me.”

“I am touching you.”

“You know what I mean.”

He slides his hand back down, slipping between my slick swollen lips. This time he uses three fingers. The stretch is perfect.

“Feel good?”

“Yessss”

He pulls his fingers out again.

“I know, I know.”

His hand caresses my hip, gently massaging the skin there. It’s not enough, I need more. I feel like I’m on fire. Desire radiates from my core, and I writhe under his hands.

“Stop teasing.”

“Tell me what you need.”

“I need you to touch me, I need… I need you inside me.”

“Turn over. Lay on your stomach.”

“What? No, no, I need you inside me. Now.”

“I know. Just trust me.”

I open my eyes and turn over. My nipples rub against the table, and my hips jerk involuntarily.

“Now what?”

He grabs my hips and pulls me down the massage table, only stopping when my feet are planted on the floor and I’m bent over the end of his table. He slides something soft but firm beneath my stomach and when I look down, I see a wedge-shaped pillow propping me up so I’m on display for him.

He leans over me, and I can feel his clothed erection rubbing against my bare ass. He whispers in my ear.

“Do you remember when I took you like this? In that hotel room with the desk the size of a dining table.”

My cheeks flame. I do remember that night. He bent me over that table and fucked me until I saw stars. My thighs clench, and I grip the massage table for support.

“Please, fuck me.”

“Patience.”

I squirm, trying to find friction.

“Fuck, hold on. I’m almost ready.”

“Ready?”

“Please!”

Finally, finally he slides inside me.

He slowly pushes himself inside until he bottoms out. He pauses there, giving us both a second to breathe.

“Fuck, you feel so good around my cock.”

“Please—need you to—move.”

He moves, setting a slow, deep rhythm. It’s everything I need. I clench around him.

“God, it’s like you’re made for me.”

He teased me so much earlier that it won’t take much. I can already feel myself getting close.

“More, please.”

“Mmm yeah.”

He fucks into me faster, every thrust pushes me into the table. I plant my feet and hold on for dear life.

“Feel good?”

“Mmmm, yeah. Yeah—feels so good.”

He keeps his rhythm while he leans forward and massages my breasts.

“God, I love playing with your tits.”

He rolls my nipples between his fingers. I arch my back, making him thrust deeper.

He brings one hand back up, weaving it into the hair at the nape of my neck. He clenches his hand into a fist, pulling my head back by my hair.

“Look at you.”

He uses his grip on my hair to pull me back into him. My hips snap back onto his for every thrust. I’m not going to last if he keeps this up.

“You’re taking me so well.”

“Mmmmm, you feel so good.”

“Yeah? Tell me.”

“I love feeling you filling me up. So full, love you inside me.”

“Fuck.”

“I need—”

“What do you need, baby?”

“Harder, I need—harder please!”

He moves his hands from my breasts to my hips, grabbing them and using them to fuck into me harder.

“Fuck. Is that good, baby?”

“Yes! Yes, yes yes yes!”

“Mmmm. Yeah.”

“Mmmmm—I’m getting close.”

“Already?”

“Mmmhm.”

“I’ve missed you. I’ve missed fucking you like this.”

“Oh god.”

“I think about you all the time. Do you think about me?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m close.”

“Mmm. Me too.”

“What do you need?”

“Keep going. Keep going.”

His grip on my hips is firm as he fucks into me. I press my face into the table. I can feel my orgasm building in my lower belly.

“I’m close! I’m close—don’t stop, don’t stop.”

“Let go. Cum for me.”

My vision whites out, and I clench around his cock. He doesn’t stop—fucking me through the aftershocks.

“Can you cum again?”

“Y–yeah, don’t stop.”

“I remember. I remember how to make you cum again.”

“Oh fuck.”

My legs shake, but he holds me steady. His hips stutter, and I know he’s close.

“Almost there, almost there.”

I can feel my second orgasm building, and I grip onto the table for support.

“‘M close.”

“Me too.”

“I—”

My legs shake as I cum again. I clench hard around his dick, hips jerking with the aftershocks.

“Yes!”

My legs are shaking so hard that I don’t trust them to hold me up. I sink slowly down to the floor, taking him with me.

“Holy fuck.”

“You can say that again.”

“I forgot how good you make me feel.”

“Ditto.”

“Do you do this for all your clients? Cause if you do, then I’m sure you’re booked and busy.”

“No. This was a special service.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s the premium package, reserved only for the woman I had a fling with last year.”

“Mmm, well you should charge double. That was amazing.”

“So, about your massage.”

“Mmm?”

“You still have 30 minutes left in your session…”

“And?”

He makes a cheesy “jazz hands” motion in the air.

“And… you could lay back down and let my magic hands finish you off.”

“Oh god, I don’t think I can cum again so soon.”

“I mean massaging you—actually massaging you. Your back is still full of knots.”

“That makes more sense.”

“So…?”

“That sounds heavenly, thanks.”

“Here, let me help you up.”