A Spontaneous Combustion

Rather impulsively, Steve and I decided to steal away for the long weekend. A travel website had a sale on villa rentals for winter weekends in the Caribbean, so we both took Friday off and caught a flight to St. Lucia.

Soufriere is the intensely green part of the island where the Pitons - two mountainous peaks that are actually the island's volcanic plugs - are omnipresent. The place we rented looked out over them, and the azure sea below.

In French, Soufriere means "sulfur mine" - and I knew this southwest quarter of the island was known for its warm sulfur springs - but it didn't occur to me until later that we knowingly headed into a naturally volatile environment.

It was sunny and hot - just what we needed. At my suggestion, Steve brought his golf clubs because our rental, a two-bedroom villa on the grounds of a resort hotel, was very close to an amazing course.

At first, he didn't want to bring them, because he didn't want to leave me alone so long while he played. But since I had my heart set on a bunch of spa treatments and the villa had its own massage room, I knew I'd be well occupied. So I convinced him to tote them along.

We arrived early enough to get checked in and change before going to lunch at one of the hotel restaurants. The Hurricanes we drank before lunch were very strong, but the bite of ginger and the caramel-sweetness of the bourbon went down a little too smoothly, so we ordered two more.

As we walked back to the villa, I was feeling a little tipsy. Steve had a little buzz, too. It was fine for me, because I'd booked a massage. It was no problem to lay naked on a table under the influence. Steve, however, was looking at the prospect of playing 18 holes in the blazing afternoon sun. Trade winds aside, it was about 88 degrees. As a die-hard golfer, he was convinced he could push through.

I quickly jumped into the shower while Steve was getting ready to leave. He popped his head into the bathroom to say goodbye. When he saw me standing under the giant rain head shower covered in lather from the body wash, he dropped the golf bag and walked over to kiss me. He stretched out his arms, his hands were gliding over my slippery skin as he pulled me out of the spray to avoid getting wet.

As we kissed, I could tell he was getting turned on. He grabbed my face with both hands and his mouth was devouring mine. It was all I could do to keep from rubbing against him - but I knew that I'd make a giant wet spot on his golf togs.

We only broke the kiss because the doorbell chimed. The masseuse had arrived. I asked Steve to get the door while I toweled off and put on a robe.

When I emerged from the bathroom, to my surprise, it was not a masseuse, but rather a masseur. And he was, very, very hot.

'Yikes.' I thought.

Just about Steve's height, this guy had to be in his mid 20s. He looked like a surfer, with skin tanned to a deep bronze and a tangle of curls that had been bleached by the sun to a tawny blond. His white short-sleeved tee shirt was so tight it made the ripples of his abs visible. He practically looked airbrushed. With a thick Australian accent, he introduced himself as Jake. He outstretched one muscular arm and held out a well-formed, light brown hand.

Suddenly realizing that I was staring almost rudely and hadn't responded, I stepped forward and shook his hand, introducing myself. His grip was very strong, but his skin was surprising soft. Very aware that I was naked under the kimono, I tightened it around me a little defensively and crossed my arms.

This only served to make Jake look at me. I saw his eyes sweep down over my body and back up - lingering perhaps longer than necessary around my breasts.

I looked down and saw that the robe was a little bit too open around my cleavage. By crossing my arms I'd only succeeded in pressing my breasts together and accentuating their size. They seemed to be tumbling out of the top of my robe. I tugged the edges of the silk fabric closer together.

"Is everything ahright, love?" Jake asked, "You seem surprised?" Like most Australians, every sentence sounded like a question.

"Yeah, sure - of course. It's all fine; I just was expecting a woman - that's all."

Jake frowned a little apologetically. "So sorry - do you want to call the office? They were supposed to check with you but probably forgot? But I can go back and see if they can reschedule...? I don't want you to feel uncomfortable...?"

"No - no, it will be fine. I don't really mind." I stammered a little and I could feel the color begin to suffuse my cheeks.

Steve had one eyebrow raised - clearly he was dubious about this whole situation. But he was also smirking because at the same time he found it incredibly funny.

"Well, great then - I guess I have a tee time, so I'm going to take off..." Steve didn't sound very enthusiastic.

Jake asked where he should set up, so I directed him to the massage room. He picked up a large case he'd brought with him and headed to the back of the villa.

I walked Steve to the door and we began to laugh at the awkwardness.

"Are you going to be okay?" Steve asked me. I bit my lower lip and stifled a laugh.

"What could go wrong?" I asked, being ironic. He laughed and pulled me into a hug.

Looking past me in the direction of the massage room, he remarked: "That Jake is a pretty handsome guy. Can I trust you to behave yourself?"

I laughed out loud. "Please... I am probably old enough to be his mother."

"I hope he doesn't look at his mother the way he looked at you." Steve said. "I'm going to be thinking about that hot guy rubbing massage oil all over your naked body... Jesus..."

"Mmmm. Yeah..." I closed my eyes and pretended to be daydreaming. Then I started to laugh, to show that I was teasing. Steve groaned and grabbed my face and kissed me so hard it was almost punishing.

"See you in a while..." Steve gave me a mock warning, wagging a finger at me. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do..." he drawled as he hiked his golf bag over his shoulder and walked down the path.

"As if that's a long list!" I called after him.

As I shut the door, I rested my head against it for a moment. 'Courage', I thought, as I turned and walked toward the massage room.

I'd observed the well-appointed, tidy little room earlier. It had two courtyard-facing windows and was outfitted with a very luxurious massage table set in the center of the room, a large comfortable armchair in one corner, a cabinet unit containing a small sink and long marble counter along the far wall, and an antique Chinese altar table.

Jake had transformed the room while I was saying goodbye to Steve. He'd closed the blackout curtains, covered the massage table in soft white sheets, lighted several aromatic candles in glass votives spaced symmetrically on the altar table, and turned on some soft, new age music. It now seemed like a treatment room in a luxury spa.

As I walked in, Jake somehow had taken control of the room. He pointed to a hook behind the door, instructed me to take off my robe, lie face down on the table, and cover myself with the top sheet.

He stepped out, saying he'd give me a few minutes, closing the door behind him.

I took a few deep breaths, removed my kimono, hanging it on the hook. I took a quick look at myself in the mirror over the sink. In the dim lighting, I supposed I didn't look too bad. My hair was a bit wild and there were high spots of color in my cheeks. Realizing how stupid it was to be "primping", as my mom would call it, before a massage, I quickly turned away and slid up on the table, rolling onto my stomach, pulling the sheet up over my legs and lower back. I positioned my face over the "O" shaped pillow suspended at the top edge of the table. Then I tried to take several long, slow breaths to calm my nerves and slow my rapid heartbeat.

There was a soft rap on the door, and Jake called out to ask if I was ready.

"Yes - Ready." I replied. My voice had gone a little hoarse.

I heard the door open and Jake entered. He said: "Look who's back." I lifted my head and saw Steve step through the doorway behind him.

"Hi." Steve said softly. "I decided that golf could wait. Is that okay?"

A little confused, but pleased, I replied; "Of course it's okay, baby. Whatever you want."

Jake looked at Steve and said: "You can sit over there." He pointed to the armchair in the corner.

A smile broke across my face as the humor began to hit me: "You're going to watch?" I asked softly. Steve grinned, running a hand down my back over the sheet as he walked by.

"As long as that's okay with you." He said, smiling.

"Don't you trust me?" I teased. He laughed in reply. His hand now ran down my thigh, calf, and trailed along the bottom of my foot. He sank, slowly, into the chair and looked at me, his head cocked slightly to one side.

I turned to look at Jake to gauge his reaction to this development. He was smiling rather mysteriously, I thought. He shut the door softly and turned toward the sink. Then, to my great surprise, he crossed his arms in front of his body and pulled his tee shirt over his head and off.

I watched the candlelight play across his muscular back, thinking 'This is interesting...'

Then quickly turned my head back to the circular face pillow. The calm I'd been struggling to achieve was completely gone.

Placing one large, warm hand in the small of my back and another between my shoulder blades, Jake spoke softly but commandingly.

"Now, I want you to take three long, slow deep breaths. Ready? One... now exhale... Two... And again... and three... Good. I want you to allow the tension to dissipate, starting with your neck..."

He put his hands on the back of my neck, applying the softest pressure. When he spoke again his voice was very low and I could feel his breath near my ear.

"Now feel the tension ebb away from your upper back..." His hands applied pressure on my shoulder blades. And on down my body he went until he was at my feet. He'd folded the sheet up so that he exposed me from the calves down, and his hands were applying pressure to the tender arches of my feet, then my toes.

This technique was working - I actually found the tension running down my body and out. It was incredible. All my senses were being addressed, except for sight, since my eyes were closed. I felt comfortable - not too warm or too cool - and the buzz from lunch was beginning to come back. The fact that Steve was observing all of this was beginning to turn me on. I felt a tiny trickle of wetness in my pussy.

Jake continued to talk in his low, soft voice. Somehow the accent did not seem so pronounced. "I want you to breathe in this aromatherapy oil, and tell me if you like it." He held his hands under my face where the space in the pillow exposed my nose and mouth. "Do you like this fragrance?" It smelled like grapefruit and geraniums, with a tiny hint of lavender.

"Yes... I like that a lot." I murmured, sighing contentedly.

"Okay, then, I'd like you to take another three deep breaths..." I found myself automatically obeying his commands. My mind seemed to be emptying. My higher brain functions were shutting off. I was pure sensation - all stimulus and response.

I heard Jake moving around quietly. I briefly opened my eyes and could see through the opening of the pillow that he'd removed his shoes at some point, as well.

I heard him quietly mixing something at the counter. He turned and folded the sheet down exposing my back all the way to the top of my ass. After a moment, I felt oil being drizzled on my back. The aroma he'd asked me to smell wafted back to me.

As the massage began, it felt nearly erotic immediately. His hands moved the oil around my skin. His fingers traversed my shoulders, upper and lower back, and the top of my ass.

Occasionally, they were sliding down the sides of my breasts, my waist, and my hips, too.

He paused for a moment and said: "Do you want to help me?" I didn't think I'd heard him correctly.

I turned my head slightly and said: "Sorry?"

Placing a hand on the back of my neck, he leaned down and said: "Not you, love, I was talking to your man Steve here."

I heard Steve rise from the chair. "I'd love to..." He said. I could tell by the timbre of his voice that he was becoming excited. I began to lift my head to look at Steve, but Jake stopped me, leaning close to me again to whisper: "You just relax, now. We want you to lay still and let us do the work."

I obeyed, but the tingle of a thrill skittered down my spine and I felt a fresh trickle of arousal. Goosebumps rose on my exposed skin.

"Are you warm enough, baby?" Steve asked very near my other ear. The sound of his voice and the feel of his breath on me caused a tiny involuntary tremor of excitement.

"Yes, I feel great - I am - uh - it is perfect." I stammered softly. I heard him laugh softly.

"Well said." He teased. He brushed my hair back from my neck. The faint touch of his hand felt like a tiny electrical shock. I moaned very softly.

"Okay..." Jake began, "It begins like this..." and then I felt four warm, large hands begin to knead and massage my shoulders and neck. It was an unbelievable feeling.

"Oh my god..." I murmured. I could hear Steve and Jake chuckling at my reaction.

"Have you ever had a four-hand massage?" Jake asked.

"I've never had four-hand anything. But so far I like it a lot." I said languorously. Both men laughed.

Jake was telling Steve how to position his hands, his forearms, and giving him guidance on how much pressure to apply. They both approached my massage with so much intensity that I got wetter and wetter. It was indescribably sexy - the fact that they were so earnest in their efforts to make me feel good.

As they moved down to my lower back, I felt hands pressing into my ass through the sheet. I assumed it was Steve, because it felt as if the force came from my right, where he was standing. Strong hands and fingers pressed into my flesh, working the musculature beneath my skin. My ass wasn't exactly small, but it was round and rather firm. His hands were doing something that as part massage, part caress. I loved it. It took an enormous amount of discipline on my part to not flex against his hands.

I then felt the sheet being folded up over my legs, all the way up to the very bottom of my buttocks. Jake (I presume) folded the sheet meticulously and rested it across my now sensitized ass. It suddenly occurred to me that I did not know how much was visible beneath that fold.

Hands began to move across the very top of the back of my thighs. There was something explicitly erotic about this kind of touch. For the briefest of seconds, I felt fingertips dipping between my thighs, brushing my sensitive nether lips - but it was so fleeting that I could neither be sure it happened, nor react. I wasn't even sure whose fingers I was feeling.

As the two men massaged my thighs, they pulled them a bit further apart. I was aware that I might be totally exposed, but found myself surrendering to it. The hands applying pressure, kneading and manipulating my limbs were all that mattered.

Finally, their hands moved down to my ankles and feet. I've always been rather ticklish when it came to the soles of my feet. This part of the body was never particularly sexy to me - I prefer closed shoes and always found fetishists who worshiped feet to be rather bizarre. But in this warm, dark, sensual room, as both of my feet were being carefully massaged and fondled by two incredibly attractive men, this part of my body became wildly erogenous. I could barely lie still. The blood pounded through my veins and each touch to my feet seemed to register directly in my pussy. So when my right foot was pulled upward and I felt Steve press his lips to the tender arch, I moaned loudly and my body jerked as if in the throes of an orgasm.

Steve set my foot back down on the table, and I felt Jake press both ankles into the cushioned surface. Steve ran his hand up the inside of my calf, past the back of my knee, and along the inside of my thigh as he walked back up the right side of the table. His hand came to rest between my legs, pressing gently against my vulva. He had to feel how wet I was. I was conscious of the fact that Jake was witnessing this intimacy.

Instead of making me nervous or embarrassed, that fact got me hot. Steve leaned down and pressed his lips to the back of my neck.

Jake walked up the left side of the table. Speaking softly, he said that it was time for me to turn over. He instructed me to slide down the table as I turned so that my head was resting on the table, because he was going to remove the headrest and give me a pillow for my neck. Steve removed his hand from its resting place, and I felt the sheet being unfolded again, the top was pulled up to my shoulders and the bottom edge was draped over my legs.

Jake held the right far edge of the sheet, his arms extended, shielding my body from his view, and asked me to turn over. As I moved, my eyes met Steve's, who was still standing on the right side of the table and could watch me, unobstructed, as I rolled over. Steve's hands moved briefly and lightly over my torso as I settled on my back. His left hand cupped my left breast as he looked down at me with a sexy smile. He leaned down and kissed me - a deep, lingering kiss. I submitted willingly, loving how his tongue moved into my mouth.

Jake worked around this display as if it were commonplace. He put the sheet back over my body, and pulled my right arm out from under this covering, placing it deliberately on the table along the right side of my body. He began moving around quietly, adjusting my position in various ways. He slipped a small bolster pillow under my knees, carefully setting my legs apart and pressing on my shins to settle my legs into the table.

Steve and I continued to kiss. His hands were cradling my face, tilting my chin upward for better access to my mouth.

I then could hear Jake walking around to the top of the table, where he removed the headrest extension and tucked it away someplace. Then he came back and I felt him standing at the table edge. He spoke Steve's name in a quiet voice, and may have touched his shoulder, because we finally broke the kiss and Steve stood up.

I opened my eyes and looked up. Jake lifted my head gently and tucked a pillow under my neck, adjusting it in place until I assured him that it was perfect. He then turned and produced something that looked like a blindfold.

"Now, love, I want to put this on you - it's an eye mask and will help you to relax." My heart nearly skipped a beat. As he lowered the mask to my eyes, just before I closed them I saw Jake and Steve exchange a look that seemed to have meaning. Jake tied the mask loosely at the back of my head, and repositioned me on the neck pillow. The mask was made of silk and seemed to be filled with dried lavender, and was wonderfully cool. It felt marvelous - but the thrill of being blindfolded was far more powerful than any soothing properties the mask might have possessed. I was acutely aware that my nipples were standing at attention, and that my breathing and heart rate were a bit more rapid.

Someone (Steve?) pulled my left arm out from under the sheet, positioning it alongside my body and pressing gently. Hands and arms applied pressure to various parts of me through the cotton sheet. I could no longer discern whose hands were whose, and the guys were not speaking.

I felt them move to either side of me. Someone folded the top sheet downward until it was just covering the peaks of my breasts. Oil drizzled onto my breastbone and shoulders, and I felt their hands begin to work it into my skin. Hands and fingers circled across the upper part of my chest, sometimes slipping under the sheet a tiny bit. They used a combination of shiatsu pressure and massage, which was making me melt under their hands.