I'd been attending the therapy clinic for almost a year. Once a month, I'd turn up routinely for a punishing session to loosen my tight hamstrings and associated athletic ailments.
For an hour each visit, I was putty in the hands of Darla, a therapist with strong fingers and an even stronger will. I'm not sure if they trained sadism at massage school, or if therapists are just born that way, but for an hour I'd get elbows, fingers and even knees ground into the most sensitive parts of my body.
Darla would chat during the consultation and I'd try to talk back, but usually I'd be grimacing, and sometimes whimpering like a baby. We'd achieved a connection through time, but it was of a professional nature and we'd only discuss the weather, the news and trivia.
But at this visit, something had changed. Darla conducted her ritual inspection at the start of the consultation, poking and prodding, manipulating me this way and that. "Hmmm," she said. "Very good. It looks like the therapy has worked. There's no real tightness, and your range of motion is pretty much like a normal human."
"I am a normal human!" I protested.
"Yes, I know. But you've loosened up. So today it'll just be a gentle massage. A relaxation one. So just lie face down and relax. Leave everything to me."
After the agony of previous sessions, this massage was a delight. Her fingers and hands delicately played over my back, along my calves, up to my thighs, and visited the hem of my underwear..
"This is so good," I complimented. "It's like a fantasy compared to your usual torture session."
"Ha!" Darla sniggered. "So this is your fantasy?"
We fell into an awkward silence.
After a short while, I decided to return to the point.
"Actually, I
would
love a fantasy massage, you know?"
"Not really," she responded innocently.
"Well, a sensual, intimate, erotic massage. Surely you know what I mean?
"Maybe."
Oh no, I thought. I've been inappropriate and I've pushed the conversation too far. That would be too bad, because she was the most skilled therapist I'd ever encountered and I didn't want to lose the appointments!
I felt a single finger slide gently along the length of my spine and rest at the top of my ass. "Talk me through it," she requested in a suggestive tone.
I felt really uncomfortable. Did she really want me to open up completely? Maybe our wires were crossed and she was expecting a mild discussion and not the outpourings of a deviant. Fingers crossed, I thought I'd gently ease into it and gauge the reaction.
It took me a little while to think of how I'd get started and how I'd deliver my fantasies. All the while, she continued to gently massage my back, and after an extended silence she offered: "It's OK. You can tell me."
Here it goes, I thought.
"Well, I'd come in and meet you in reception. You would be wearing a robe. A silken one. Tied at the waist and only just covered your ass. I mean your bottom."
She giggled. "Its OK. Go on."
"I'd give you some cash and you'd hide it away somewhere. You'd give me that smile." I pulled my head out of the massage table hole and looked at her. "Yes, that one. That smile. Then you'd take me by the hand and lead me down the hall. I'd be watching your wiggling hips and your smile as you looked back at me every few steps. We'd walk straight past the studios. I would wonder where you are taking me. And you'd lead us into an oversized bathroom."
"Yes, we've actually got one of those," said Darla.
"You'd face me, and then undress me. You'd stand really close and undo my shirt. Button by button. Then your hands would glide across my chest and you'd peel my shirt back and let it fall. You'd look up at my face and then tilt your head forward and gently lick one of my nipples, and then then other."
"Then you'd undo my fly, you'd crouch and drag my pants down. All the way to the floor and I'd step out. My cock would be hard and obvious in my underwear and your face would be teasingly close. I'd resist the temptation to place my hands on your head. You'd run your finger under the waistband of my briefs, accidentally just brushing the tip of my cock with your hand as you moved around."
"You'd take your time. letting the anticipation build. I'd feel that pressure rising in my loins, and I'd feel those butterflies in my tummy and wonder - and hope - that you were feeling the same."
"Probably."
"Then you'd draw my briefs down, letting my cock spill out, and I'd see a gleam in your eye and a smile on your mouth. You wouldn't grab it. But you'd run your fingernail gently along the shaft back and forth, and say something like 'nice'."
"Nice."
"And finally when I'm naked you would stand again, your hands around my neck, smiling at me, and my cock would be swaying in the breeze, just brushing against your silken robe. Then you'd shrug your shoulders back and your robe would fall to the floor, leaving your glorious naked body in full view."
"Hmmmm," intimated Darla.
"You'd say something like 'showertime', and you'd turn on the steaming shower and we'd both move under the water. I can just imagine the water streaming off your body. My cock would hard and almost upright, and it would touch your smooth, wet skin. You'd get the soap, and lather up my chest. You put it on your breasts too and then pull us in together for that amazing feeling of our slippery skin against one another."
"This sounds a bit cliche," interjected Darla, surprising me. I'll have to mix this up a bit, I thought. Maybe I can press on a little more.
"I put my arms around you, and pull you tight into me. You are much smaller than me, so my hard cock would be at the height of your belly, and I'd press it hard against your tummy. I'd hear you moan and wonder if it was pleasure you feel already. But you say, 'You're pressing hard against me, and I'm kind of full inside. I've been hydrating all day.'"
"'I don't mind, you can go', I would say, with no concerns about pissing in the shower. You would look at me with sparkling eyes and a look of mischief. 'Really?' you would ask with a kind of evil smirk. Your hands go on my shoulders and you gently press me down. I sink to my knees, and you keep pressing until I'm on my haunches, folded in the corner of the shower against the wall."
"No, I don't mind, it's true," said Darla. Her hands continued to play delicately on my back.
"You would take a tiny step back, with the water still falling on your shoulders from the shower rose. I look up at your gorgeous body. Your hands fall to your pubes and create a diamond shape around your slit. You tilt your pelvis forward, and a tiny stream of clear fluid would begin to spill, almost indistinguishable from the rest of the water streaming off your body. But it grows stronger, and angles higher, spilling over my legs. You wiggle your hips from side to side and begin to spray the stream over me. I don't mind at all. The clear liquid squirts on my legs, my groin, my torso. You laugh out loud a little, tilt your pelvis right forward, and splash a stream across my face. "
"I wasn't expecting that! Is that really your fantasy?" said Darla with a laugh.
"Well, maybe. Is it OK?" I checked.
"Yes of course," replied Darla. "Just not expected."
"Soon the stream weakens and fades. You pull your pussy apart with one hand, and use the other to cup water from the shower stream and splash it across your pussy lips."
"Your open cunt would be so beautiful and inviting, so I'd scoot my butt across the floor and inject my face into your pussy. My tongue extends and I lick your pussy lips and then slide my tongue up and down along the slit. I would hear some slight feint moans. My tongue would reach up for the little button of your clit and I would feel it warm and firm and sensitive. My hands would be resting on each of your thighs, and I would feel your legs quivering a little. There is not much taste from your pussy. No urine and not much juice. And what is there is washed away with the incessant stream of water from the shower. But after a while, as my mouth and my tongue is playing and exploring your pussy, I begin to feel the slimy juices beginning to build. You know, that slippery, slimy pussy juice?"
"Hm. Go on."
"I would plunge a finger inside, and curl it forward, pressing the cunt hard against my lips. And I would hear you moan out of pleasure."
"Are you sure this is
your
fantasy? It sounds more like the fantasy is going the other way. What's in it for you?"
"I haven't finished yet. You would push me back and then turn around to face the wall in the shower. Your hands would go up high on the wall - like being detained in a police raid. Your feet adjust with a stance with your legs twelve inches apart. And you turn your neck to look back down at me."
"Interesting."
