When I first arrived at his house, I was a bit nervous. I always feel funny arriving at someone's house for the first time. My heart always beats faster as I walk up to the door and either knock or ring the bell. I don't know why, but it happens every time I first visit someone, even when the person has been a friend for years. I suppose it is the fear that somehow I will get the wrong house or someone strange will answer the door. This time, I was doubly nervous as I got out of my car. I had met you for lunch a couple of days earlier. And this was probably not the wisest thing I had ever done, meeting you at your house, but you seemed harmless enough in our email, online, and telephone conversations.
Walking to the front door, I try to burry the knot of fear that is building within my stomach. When the front door opens before I even have a chance to knock, I am more than a bit relieved. You are just as sexy as when you met me for lunch. Your light brown hair is freshly washed and combed back with its side part, its softness apparent in the errant lock that drops down onto your forehead. You grayish blue eyes sparkle as your smile dimples both cheeks. You open the door for me and I enter the house.
You direct me toward one side of the house, explaining that you rent a portion of the house, and that you have been remodeling for the owner. You warn me about the missing wood on the parquet floor and take me into a room which is long and narrow. I see your computer on a desk opposite the door and a futon couch and a leather couch situated about the room. Along one wall is a bookshelf which dominates one wall of the entire room and has a television set into it. We sit on the leather couch that faces the book shelf.
We talk about nonsensical things for about fifteen minutes until you reach out and take my hand. You hold my hand flat in yours and gently massage the back of my hand, my wrist and forearm, and then ask me if I would still like a massage (the supposed reason for my coming to your place). I had been looking into your amazing blue eyes, and had to mentally shake myself out of my semi-stupor in order to respond, "of course!"
"The bathroom is the first door on the left, there is a robe hanging on the back of the door, why don't you go change and I'll meet you in the bedroom at the end of the hall in a moment" you say. When you said massage, I figured I'd turn around on couch (or even lay down), but I had never dreamed you would want to do a full body massage.
I try to choke out a response and end up just sort of stumbling over several words in a non-compressive remark. I give up trying to speak and head to the bathroom. Once I get to the bathroom I realize I have a dilemma. I know you are trained in massage therapy, and I had had professional massages in the past, but I'm still not sure I was comfortable enough with you to get even partially naked and let you do a full body massage.
Recently, our conversations online had taken on a more erotic nature, talking about our erotic fantasies. Standing in the bathroom, looking in the mirror at my own reflection, I blush as I recall mentioning that I have a fantasy about getting a massage, and how I would be naked and he (the masseuse) would notice and would hike the sheet up a little too high so he could look right up my pussy as he massaged my legs and feet. Just thinking of it, makes my pussy tingle with desire.
"Dang," I think as I ponder the dilemma (already deciding to go ahead with the massage) of whether I should leave my panties on or to take them off. I'm totally unsure of how I should proceed. On one hand, you might be a professional and would rather I leave my panties on… maybe your just living up to request I placed when I learned you were a massage therapist, or maybe you are hitting on me and you're going to help me live out my fantasy. And if you wanted to help me live out my fantasy, was I ready for a near stranger to do that with me?
I finally decide to leave my panties on. They are the new style that Victoria Secret revealed earlier in the season. They look like daisy dukes meet hip hugger bikini panties with a decidedly erotic flare to them. They are perfect for women with round asses, which I defiantly have. I fold my cloths up and put them on the back shelf of the toilet. I grab the slightly too large dark grey bathrobe and pull it on. I look in the mirror, my green eyes sparkle with desire as I realize I may get to live my fantasy…I slip a breath mint from my purse into my mouth and then head out of the bathroom into the hallway.
I easily find the bedroom as you've left the door open. I see you are still spreading a sheet over your bedspread. When you see me, you tell me to lie face down on the bed, with my head at the foot of it, and that you will return shortly. Then you leave the room.
Still feeling a bit of trepidation, I remove the robe and lay it across a small table in the corner of the room, I slide between the sheets and adjusted the top sheet across my back. When you return, you are carrying a bottle of massage lotion. You walked over to the dresser and pressed play on a cd-player, hypnotic like music fills the room, gently rolling over me in soft waves.
The soft music begins to relax me so that I let my eyes drift gently closed as I feel you fold the sheet down, exposing my back to just at the top of my panties, you move to stand at my head, your hands sliding down my back from neck to my hips, spreading a wonderfully scented lotion across the muscles of my back. Your fingers glide down to my panty line and under the edge of the waist band, going a bit lower than normal, but not so much that I am concerned.