Her name is Patti. Now some folks might like it if I was to say she is a raving beauty, big old 40DD's and all of that.
But nope. She's around 5'2" tall and maybe 110 pounds, a bit on the slender side actually. Darn well proportioned, too, and as in shape as any gal around the age of 40 can be.
There is something about her, I can't describe it and you can't either. Somehow she combines acting completely naive with some kind of sexuality that is just there. No sexy clothes, she never said or did anything that anyone would ever consider out of the ordinary.
Patti isn't really naive at all, she just seems that way. Well, maybe in some ways, but still, a different kind of woman.
And she exudes sex appeal, one look at her and my dick gets a mind of it's own, a bit strange by itself since I am 62. Hell, by this stage of my life I had pretty much done it all and seen it all, at least I thought so.
I saw her ad in a little flyer, "Massage Therapy" with her name and a phone number, plus "Hot oil hands on". Simple as that, none of those stones and smelly crap and oogy boogy wave your hands in the air and pass "energy" shit. Plus she wanted $50 an hour, right at the price range I look for.
So I called her up, expecting the usual machine but she answered on the second ring, her voice was so soft and sweet I got a boner just thinking of her hands on my ass, and maybe..just maybe on my dick?
Dang, I like that.
I was also smart enough to not ask her or let her know what I really wanted, so I put on my best "complete gentleman" attitude and dropped the bit about my poor old legs and low back and circulation problems in there.
Hell, I am healthy as a horse, as the saying goes.
But I might as well get her headed the correct direction right off the bat.
I had this vision of a busty young soft little blonde in my head, so when a skinny 40 year old brunette answered the door I almost looked over her shoulder for her daughter.
The second she opened her mouth I knew, and I also knew I wanted her. I even had a hard time talking to her, visions of her naked and down on her back with her legs in the air got smack dab in the way of common sense conversation.
Yea, standing start in about 10 seconds, it was all I could think of. Like I said, something about her.
She didn't seem to even notice that I went into stupid mode for awhile. She just showed me to her side room and had me get undressed. It was all of the usual, a soft table with drapes and some pictures of people's muscles hanging here and there, the massage license framed on the wall.
I had also spotted the picture of her and some guy, and what I guessed was a daughter about 18 or so so I knew there was a husband around somewhwere.
Probably a damned complication, but what the hell. We would see.
Then came the massage of a lifetime, she got so tantalizingly close to my stuff that I was groaning and struggling to not just move my butt over and shove my balls up against her hand.
I left feeling like I was 25 again and with a pecker that was up and would not go down. Hell, I had to clear things out the minute I got home, did it again later that evening. Then I jumped my wife Martha when she got home, surprising her a bit. But she was smiling after I got done bending her over the back of the couch.
Hell, the wife and I still get it on once in a blue moon.
Martha still works for the city, I stay at home and get my government stipend. I spent a lifetime on a damn conveyer belt shoving packages of crap down the line. I can't say I ever liked my job, but it was a Union gig and the benefits were good.
Other than the times we go out with our friends Dan and Terry, my life is pretty humdrum. Dan has the same first name as me so there are lots of jokes about that when we are out on the town. You know what I mean, Terry would say it's time for Dan and her to head home, someone always popped up with "Which Dan?" Har har har..dumn stuff but we liked them.
Dan is my golfing bud, I get him about 60% of the time in our buck a hole games on Sunday.
Terry is a sorta pretty little fake blonde, I don't know how she manages to always have about one inch of black roots but she does. I never really thought of her in a sexual way, but I did see her tits once. She was in the bathroom and I went in to take a leak, I didn't realize. She was standing there with her blouse off and her bra down to her waist, fucking with some stitch that was poking her or something. Her tits kinda hung out and down, big old nipples the size of a tangerine. Hell, it looked like half her tit was inside her nipples, the way they bulged.
They were pretty in an odd sort of way, not the huge things that stand up and out like on the kids you see in pictures. Just a pair of soft looking real ones, the best kind of all.
She let out a holler and I ducked back out all embarrassed, apologizing. She yelled at me for not knocking, just practically shit a brick! It was MY goddamned bathroom and I didn't know she was in there. Besides, one would think someone had seem her tits before.
Well, I guess I hadn't. Heehee.
Oh, well, that was forgotten in about 2 minutes, except Terry told Dan and he cracked a bunch of jokes about her being a flasher. I told Martha she should show Dan her tits so we would be even, that went over like the proverbial lead balloon.
Martha's tits are like a couple of envelope flaps, she thinks they are ugly but they aren't. I like playing with them. But she sure as hell won't let anyone see them, part of that is the inch of padding in her bras, I think.
So you can see real quick that my life is mostly TV and puttering around the house, with a night out once in awhile to break the boredom, maybe a day at the golf course batting balls if it ain't raining and it ain't too damned cold out.
I sometimes get in an online poker game, usually losing my 10 bucks pretty quick, but if I catch a hand...well, that's cool. Once I pushed the whole pile in while sitting on a pair of 9's, danged if they didn't drop two more of them.
Shit happens.
And once a week or so I sneak off to get a massage.
Leaves me lots of time to plot and scheme. I like going to get a massage, and I expecially like it when they will give me a hand job at least. Of course if I want to drop $150-200 each trip it's a sure thing, fuck that. Uncle Sam sends me $923 a month so I am limited a bit. Martha drags down $50G a year working for the city, but between the house payment and her goddam Lexus I don't get to play with any of that. Me, I make do with my old pickup, and I do have the Vette out in the garage but all I do with that is pet it and keep it warm and dry. Of course the Vette payment takes almost all of my pension from my job, but I wanted one of those.
It's lots more fun to find a massuese that just won't, then get her to do it anyway. So I stay away from the $25-30 an hour gals, they never will and they usually are lousy. At that price they are right out of school and scared to death, absolutely sure they will get raped or arrested if they even bump some guy's nuts. So I pick the $50-60 an hour ones, they are what I call right on the edge.
Hell, they know their rates are a bit high, so they had better be either damned good or a bit less uptight.
Yep, best place to start, I say.
I started going to see Patti each week, after about a dozen sessions or so she was comfortable with me, since I never actually DID anything, and managed to hide what I was thinking.
I would lay there and watch her work, the muscles in her slender arms defined and hard. A few times I managed to steer the conversation around to what "some therapists do".
Heehee.