Seventeen
He had made an appointment for her to receive a massage, something he knew she loved to enjoy. The appointment was for the middle of the morning, at a private cabana on the beach. She had no idea what she was in store for, other than a massage. The appointment card that was waiting for her when she had checked in the previous evening had just given her a time, a location, and a request to wear her bathing suit.
A few minutes before 10:30am, she left their room. He had already gone off doing something manly, since he knew she would be occupied for most of the morning. In fact, he knew a lot more about what she was going to be doing than she did, since he had arranged for the 'special' service.
Arriving at the cabana, she pushes her way in through the brightly colored vertically hung fabric panels that provided privacy for those inside. There is an elevated massage table in the center, and a couple of chairs bracketing a table with some glasses and a carafe of orange colored liquid. A vanity with a chair and a variety of beauty supplies is across the way, she surmises it is for the ladies to repair their faces after getting their 'treatments'.
"Ah, you have arrived," she hears from off to her left. It startles her just a bit; she had not seen anyone when she first poked her head in.
"My name is Armando. I am your masseuse for this morning. Would you care for a mimosa?"
'Oh yes, please," she manages to stammer out. A bit of alcohol would help the upcoming experience, certainly.
Her host moves across the small enclosure to the table with the refreshments. As he pours her a glass of orange juice and ice chilled champagne, her breath quickens.
Armando is a caramel skinned Hispanic, maybe in his mid-20s. About 5'10", with jet black locks swaying against his shoulders. This cabana boy is drop dead gorgeous, ripped like a Channel No.5 model, she thinks to herself.
As the young man brings her the drink, she notices his bare chest, and then her eyes involuntarily drop down. His bottom/shorts/swimsuit/whatever is very thin. Although it is not really tight, it does absolutely nothing to hide his 'personality'. His package is significant, to say the least, and she would swear she could make out the outline of the mushroom tip against the slick looking fabric.
He turns back to the massage table, and picks up a luxurious looking towel. Turning, he presents it to her. "If you would like to get started, please remove your suit. You may wrap yourself in this. When you are ready, please lay down on the table, face up, please."
Taking a large gulp of the delicious drink, she wonders what she's gotten herself into. Although this guy is gorgeous, she hadn't expected to be naked in front of him. Oh, what the fuck, she thinks. He sees white bootie all day long, he's not even going to notice your ass, she reasons.
Putting the glass and the towel down, she needs both hands to wiggle out of her one piece suit. Catching a glimpse of him while reaching for the towel, she notices he's facing away from her, prepping the table. She wraps the white towel around her, covering her breasts and privates.
Fortunately, the massage table is not high, and she easily sits on the edge. Swinging her legs around and wriggling into place is a bit more difficult, her hands are busy trying to keep the towel in place. She leans back, positioning her head in the low cradle provided to support her neck. The material on the table is smooth, and cool -- far cooler than she would suspect, given the moderate temps outside in the sun. The analytical part of her mind wonders if it is cooled some how.
Eyes closed, her muscles start to relax. The slight breeze coming from the ceiling fan, coupled with the cool surface of the table tingle her skin. The background noise of the waves coming ashore a bare 100 feet away is mesmerizing. In just a few moments, she feels herself cruising just above unconsciousness.
She feels something wet and warm dripping onto her left foot. Then, a few drops onto her right.
"You have such beautiful feet. I'll start with them. If you feel uncomfortable with anything I am doing, or if anything hurts, please let me know. I am here for your pleasure," Armando informs her.
She has a rather perverted thought right then, something about how that monster between his legs is what she needed for her pleasure. Nothing wrong with some innocent fantasy, was there? She manages to softly reply, "Be my guest".
His hands close around her left foot. He gently massages it between his fingers, the warm oil providing a slick lubrication. She marvels to herself how soft the skin of his hands feels. He is definitely not a hard laborer! His fingers knead her sole, and roll her ankle around. He pops each toe, starting with the pinky and working in towards the big one. His fingers slide in and out between her toes. She wonders if he is thinking of the appropriate sexual metaphor as he does that. Her mouth falls open as a low moan of pleasure escapes.
His work is not dainty. He is really working over her muscles and ankle joint. It is not painful, but she certainly knows that this is going to be a workout.
Finishing with the left foot, he moves to the right one and repeats the treatment. This time he pauses for a moment to add some more oil. There is so much now that his skin occasionally makes obscene slurping noises as it moves against hers. She thinks it sounds kind of like what she'd hear if his belly was slapping against her ass as he slid that huge member in and out while fucking her from behind. As soon as the thought is there, she chastises herself -- come on, she tells herself, he's only working on your feet!
After about five minutes of concentrated work on her feet, he again pauses and drizzles the warm liquid up her right leg, and then back down her left. His upward movement stops right at the edge of the towel, about 2 inches below her pubic area. He has to be getting a glimpse, she thinks to herself. Good thing she had gone to the spa for a full Brazilian the day before the trip down here. Her pubic area was as smooth as a baby's ass right now.
His hands glide over her oily thighs, sliding up and down repeatedly while working the muscles underneath the skin. Each time he approaches her pussy, she subconsciously asks him to continue up a few more inches, to address the growing need she is feeling in her womanhood. However, each time his hands retreat, back down her leg to start again. Damn, this feels so relaxing, but at the same time is working her up into an erotic lather.
After what is an entirely too short period of time on her legs, he stops. Even with her eyes closed, she can sense him moving around the right side of the table and up towards her head. She doesn't need her sight to know he is now positioned above her head.
The warm liquid starts to drip on her shoulders, and down to her wrist, on the right side first. He starts with her fingers, massaging each one gently, and then kneads her palm. Moving up to her wrist, then the lower arms, then the biceps, and finally to the shoulder. His ministrations have left her right arm with absolutely no strength at all. It is completely relaxed. He repeats with her left arm, and by the time he has completed all four of her limbs, she is frozen -- so relaxed that she doubts she could move if she wanted to.
Once again, she senses him moving around the table to a position above her head. His hands separate the ends of the towel, which had been wrapped together between her breasts. With a slight tug, the ends come free; he pulls the towel apart, and lays the ends down across her upper arms.
With a start, she realizes this stranger has just undressed her, and is looking at her full frontal nudity. Then she realizes that she is too relaxed, and at the same time too aroused, to care.
Warm drops hit her stomach, descending in a ring that encircles her belly button. The trail of drops then moves up to just under her breasts and stops. She hears him put down the oil container, and waits for his touch. She doesn't have long before his hands, palms down, land on her rib cage, just south of the lower edges of her tits. He slides them down her sides to the flair of her hips, and then back to her front. They teasingly trace a path to just above her clitorous. The skin of her lower belly jumps involuntarily in response to his tease. He then curls his fingers in a bit, and drags them back up to where he began. Again and again he slides up and down her midsection, varying the path now and then.
She is proud of her mid section, and doesn't mind at all. Although she does not have the perfect figure of a fashion model, she's in very good shape for her age. In any case, it feels so good that there is no way she would object to his efforts.
He withdraws his hands. A few moments later, she feels the warm drops falling onto her right breast. Slowly, the drops circle her nipple. Once the areola is surrounded, a few more drops fall directly onto the center, which reacts by quickly stiffening. Armando repeats the treatment onto her left breast, and then sets the oil down.
He pauses a bit, and she hears a little bit of rustling. Then, his hands cup her breasts from under the nipples. Slowly, gently, he works his hands around the perimeter of the breasts, avoiding the nipples. It feels delicious. She wonders if he is enjoying himself as well.
Curious, she cracks her eyelids a bit to see him. What she sees causes a sharp intake of breath. A beautiful, very large, semi-flaccid cock is dangling about 4 inches above her face, its position conveniently dictated by how the cabana masseuse is leaning over to reach her breasts.