Releasing the Stress of the Day

Releasing the Stress of the Day

You showed up at my door with that joyful smile that has always melted my heart. I was only a little surprised that you were smiling with such radiance. On the one hand, I had invited you over after hearing about how stressful your day had been; on the other, your smile had a way of shining through even the toughest days. Either way, I was excited to get a chance to use the massage table that my friend had just gifted to me, and you looked so grateful to have some connection and relaxation to help let go of the day's intensity. I invited you in with a hug and showed you into the extra room where I had set up your relaxation haven.

I assumed by the comfortable jeans and tank top that you were wearing that you had gone home to change after work. "I didn't know if you'd have a chance to stop and change out of your work clothes, so I set aside some comfy clothes and a robe for you. Go ahead and take off whatever you're comfortable going without. There's a big towel here too if you want to cover up. I'll step out and you can make yourself comfortable on the table, then let me know when you're ready and I'll come in and we'll get you relaxed in no time."

"Don't go," you replied, your face now showing the weight of the stressful day. "I already feel better just being with you. Besides, I'm not shy."

I blushed and smiled, then sat down in the chair at the side of the room with a shy smile. "Fair enough." I looked around the room and assessed my relaxing setup. The light was soft and dim enough to wind down, but bright enough that it was easy to see. The table was covered in a soft cotton sheet. The air was warm enough to be comfortable laying naked but not too warm to be hot in the flowing cotton pants and form-fitting t-shirt that I was wearing. The air smelled of fresh-cut roses, and I looked toward the vase exploding with different colors sitting on the little side stand where my massage oil sat waiting to do its soothing work. Soft ambient music played just loud enough that it was only really noticeable when we weren't talking. I kept it low to still hear your breath as I did my work. Being an amateur massage enthusiast and not a professional, I had learned to pay close attention to the breath of my massage partners to gauge how much they were enjoying the movements and level of pressure.

"I forgot to ask what you were up to today," your voice brought me back from my thoughts, and I turned back to see you pull your shirt over your head.

"I went to my friend's farm. Their rose bushes were getting a little out of hand, but they hadn't wanted to trim them because they were so close to flowering. Now that they are full of these massive beautiful flowers," I motioned at the vase with my head and eyes, "they wanted to cut them all back. I got to bring back this giant bouquet in exchange for working with the thorns for a few hours."

"Wow! They are huge and beautiful!" You leaned over to smell them as you unclasped your bra, slipped it off, and tossed it onto the pile of clothes on the little bench by the wall. Your pants followed as you stood back up. You smiled coyly as you noticed me admiring your beauty and held eye contact with me as you slipped your panties off and tossed them onto the pile. I could watch that smile all day, I thought, my own smile growing large with a hint of shyness over getting caught enjoying your beauty. You laid down on your belly and I stood to walk toward you as I took in the lines of your body.

"Thank you for this. It's just what I needed this evening."

"Of course. I love touch so much that a friend gave me a massage table she wasn't using, and I'm happy to have a chance to try it out." I began gently running my hands across your back and shoulders in long gentle strips from shoulder to spine to your lower back and out at your hip. With each stroke, I moved a little further up your back to bring the skin of your body and my hands to the same connected temperature. Your breath relaxed into a steady slow rhythm. My breath began to match you so that I would notice when yours changed without getting sidetracked from my focus on touch.

I reached over to the side table, squirted a palm full of oil onto my hands, and warmed it by rubbing my hands together before repeating the long connecting strokes again to rub the slick fluid into your skin. Once the skin of your back shoulders and neck were slippery, I began to focus on each set of muscles individually. As I found the places where the muscle was showing tension, I began to soften the muscles around it and then finally massage the tense muscle free. I had learned this trick from a physical therapist friend, though my style was still leaning toward the relaxing and sensual with light, broad pressure across your skin. After I finished your back, I moved on to your arms and hands using the same pattern, first applying the oil in long comforting strokes before focusing on each group of muscles. Your breaths had grown slower and deeper. My breath still matched.

After a while, I finished with your upper body and moved down to start with your feet. "Are your feet too ticklish to enjoy a foot massage?" I asked to be sure that my touch wouldn't bring you out of the calm that you were enmeshed in.

"Not if you use a firm touch," you replied, sounding like you had just found your voice after a long silence, "although, I like being tickled with a really light touch on most of my body." I could tell you were smiling when you said this last statement. I smiled at your flirtatious tone and began to massage your feet with a nice firm pressure from my thumbs. Slowly I moved up to your ankles, lower legs, then upper legs, applying oil in long strokes so that you could get used to my touch then focusing on relaxing each group of muscles. As I reached the top of your thigh, I felt you lift your hips ever so slightly to meet my hand as it glided past the place where your thigh meets between your legs. I bit my lip at the movement, but you couldn't see it. I wondered if you had noticed the short second when my breath caught, but I quickly brought my breath back to match your deep relaxed pace. Was there a ragged hint in your out-breath, or was that mine? I moved on to massage your glutes, one side at a time with circular motions one hand overlapping the other to give the illusion of a never-ending circle. As I finished, you gave a little wiggle of your hips and let out a long relaxed sigh.

"Are you ready to roll over?" I asked once your breath had returned to normal. You didn't answer, you just rolled onto your back. I looked you over once and felt my breath catch again before you opened your eyes and they met mine. We simultaneously inhaled through our noses as we smiled at each other and I moved to begin again at your feet.

I used the same process with each section of your legs. Long connecting strokes to let your body get used to my touch then firmer pressure to relax the muscles. As I reached the top of your thigh, I pressed with the palm of my hand up through the crease to your hip. With each stroke, you lifted your hips toward me, giving me little peeks of the beautiful folds of your flower. Your breath was deep with a ragged edge to your exhale. My breath matched yours, and I moved up your body along your sides and belly with long gentle strokes. I moved past your breasts with a little loop around their very edges. Teasing that I might cup them, but continuing up to your collar bones, shoulders, and down your arms. I took my time to relax every inch of you. After I rolled my thumbs along your forehead, cheekbones, and jaw, I slid both of my hands down through the center of your collarbone and into the valley between your breasts. Each hand wrapped gently around the base of your breast and rolled around to the outside. I completed this motion with each rotation getting closer and closer to your nipple. When I reached the center, I slipped your nipple between my thumb and hand, and with my hands still holding on to your breasts, I rolled your nipple back and forth gently with my thumb. Now it was time for your breath to get caught in your chest. You inhaled with a great heave and I thought I heard the tiniest hint of a moan when you finally let it out. Your nipples grew firm to my touch, and I slid my hand along the edge of your nipple following the contours of my open fingers and still putting gentle pressure into your breast. Your hips were subtly rising and falling with your breath and the look on your face was far from the stress you had brought with you.

"It's the tickle of a light touch you love, right?"

"Mmm...yes!"

I pulled one of the roses out of the vase beside the table and shook the water off of the end. I brought the petals to your collarbone until it just barely touched and I ran it over your whole body. Your breath quickened and you smiled. I smiled back, though your eyes were still closed. The exhales moved from ragged to quiet little moans. Your hips were gently wiggling in all different directions showing the smoothness of their love for dance. As I reached your waist, you opened your eyes, but I didn't notice. I was lost in admiring your beauty and as I tickled down past your pelvis to your inner thigh, I was tempted to reach out and touch your beautiful lips. I rested my free hand on the front of your pelvis as you pressed your hips forward and relaxed again. The rose tickled its way toward your knees and you started to sit up.

The movement pulled me from my entrancement and I looked up at you. You were looking directly into my eyes as you sat all the way up, reached out and took the rose from me, and smelled it deeply. You hid your mischievous smile behind the rose, but there was no hiding the spark in your eyes.

"I have an idea," you said. You reached out and slipped your hand under my shirt to the skin of my belly and hooked my waistband with a couple of fingers. "Are you willing to join me in removing your clothes?"

"Of course," my arousal grew along with my curiosity. I reached down and pulled off my shirt. You sat the rose down beside you and used both hands to pull my pants down to my knees where I let them fall and stepped out.

You slipped your legs off of the massage table. "Will you lay on your back?" I laid down. "After all of this relaxing and teasing, I'd like to come. Can I straddle you?"

"Of course," I smiled with passion and excitement filling my eyes. You climbed on top of me, knelt, and rested on my legs so that my hardening cock was right in front of you. You reached down and took it gently in your hands. You rubbed your thumb around the base of my head and felt it hardening in your hands. Then you slid against me, rubbing my head against your clit as you continued to rock your hips forward. As I grew more firm, you pressed a little harder. Your breath was quickening and though I could no longer concentrate on matching your breath, I was breathing with you still.

As you massaged your clit with my cock, I focused on massaging any spot that might help build your orgasm. I cupped your breasts into my hands and circled your nipples with my thumb. I spent a little time holding your hips and tracing the lines along the edge of your pubic hair. Then I used the heel of my hand to massage the flat space of your pubic bone as you continued to rock your hips forward and back. You were moaning now. I was still focused on you and the growing pleasure you were feeling was intoxicating. I had never felt so connected to someone else's pleasure and desire.

Soon your moans grew deeper and your breath was coming in a mixture of heaves and something like vibrations from deep inside you. I could feel that you were going to explode with ecstasy and your eyes locked onto mine as you tumbled over the edge. As I looked deep into your eyes, your orgasm became mine. I felt it deep within my body. I didn't ejaculate and it didn't feel like any orgasm I'd ever experienced. It was your orgasm. Somehow, the connection of our breath and our focus on your pleasure had given me some sensual secret key to come with you. We both shuddered with a second wave and your moan became a near scream of pleasure. I held onto your hips and you pressed my cock to your convulsing clit. As your orgasm subsided, you collapsed on top of me, your breath heaving and slowing like a runner at the end of a race. Your head nuzzled into my neck, and you breathlessly said, "Thank you, I really needed that."

I wrapped my arms around you and held you. I felt enveloped in the beauty of your orgasm as I began to drip my own orgasmic juices.