I broke up with my boyfriend Troy six months ago when I caught him cheating on me with a pretty coed from his first year Psychology class. We'd been dating through our last year of high school and into his first year of college and I was pretty torn up about it for quite some time. Fortunately I was busy with courses of my own in massage therapy and managed to distract myself by putting in long hours. Once I began working for Janice at her spa I spent as much time as I could there, volunteering to work extra days, substituting for whoever phoned in sick. I've always found hard work to be the best cure for depression. Janice even trusted me to lock up for her on days I wanted to stay extra late.
Which is how I managed to meet someone very special several weeks back after a particularly long and tiresome day.
"Wait till you see who it is," Janice grinned as she walked out the door. "I'm sure you'll give him special treatment."
Janice knew what I'd been through the past few months and she was always trying to set me up with eligible and attractive young patrons of the spa. I figured this was another of her ploys to cheer me up.
My heart skipped a beat as I read the name on the file outside my cubicle door. It was Jay Dean, the lead singer of a local alternative band I was crazy about and had seen two or three times in the past few months in various venues. He was not only very talented and charismatic on stage, but he was also incredibly good-looking. As I entered the room I was in girly-crush mode and totally unsure what to expect.
Turned out he'd also had a long, tiresome day. A long, tiresome few weeks, actually, since his band was putting the finishing touches to their first EP and they were regularly working well into the night. He was exhausted and in a quite passive mood. He lay there almost naked, on his stomach with a towel over his rear and I wondered for the first few minutes if he was falling asleep.
But he responded to me in a sweet way, thanking me for staying so late and being very gracious as I told him what a fan I was and what his music had meant to me over the past few months. As I began working on him he asked me questions and I found myself talking about my break-up and depression.
"I know what that feels like," he said, something I found a bit hard to believe. "But your boyfriend must have been crazy cheating on someone as beautiful as you."
I was glad he couldn't see me blushing. I concentrated on working oil into his shoulders and back, not a little amazed at what terrific shape he was in. Musicians aren't exactly known for their healthy life-styles, but he was toned and tanned and completely free of tattoos, which surprised me. One small earring was his only piercing. As my fingers worked the muscles of his back and then his thighs and calves, I found myself getting physically aroused. This never happened with my regular clients, but this guy was just so special to me.
"Don't forget my ass. Don't be shy," he said at one point. "I really need the old glutes worked on. You've no idea what a work-out I get on stage some nights."
Again I was blushing. I'd purposely skipped over his butt to move down his legs. But now the idea of working on his naked ass was just too much to resist. I shyly removed his towel and was confronted by one of the cutest male butts I'd ever seen.
"What do you think?" he muttered, still sounding more than half asleep. "Do you approve?"
"You're beautiful. Your ... ass is beautiful," I responded, hardly believing I was saying this out loud.
I poured oil onto his buns and began massaging it into his taut, muscular flesh.
"Your hands are wonderful. You're very good at what you do," he said. "This is absolutely just what I needed."
I lost track of how long I worked on his ass, getting more and more turned on by the minute. I know that before long I was tracing a finger down along the crack of his ass and at one point, forgetting myself, I began probing the tight ring of his asshole.
"You can do that if you want," he muttered sleepily. "I don't mind."
I don't know what came over me. I couldn't help myself. I actually eased one finger gently into his asshole, as if I were giving him a prostate exam. I poked deeper, swirled my finger around, then withdrew quickly, my face flushed with embarrassment.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't really do that," I mumbled. "It's not part of the treatment."
"I loved it. It tells me a lot about you," he answered. "Do you mind if I turn over now?"
Without waiting for an answer he rolled onto his back and I was confronted by another amazing sight. His cock wasn't fully erect, but it was well on its way, and it was huge. A big, solid hunk of meat as thick as my forearm and maybe nine inches long. Its head was light purple and glistening and a dark blue vein pulsed down one side of it. It rolled across his lower belly and arced slightly upwards. I swear I could sense it throbbing as it continued its steady growth to erection.
He didn't say a word. Nor did I. I was doing my very best to keep up some professional decorum, even after probing his asshole. I began massaging his feet, of all things, smoothing oil along his ankles and between his toes.
"Why don't you open up your top?" he said at last. He was watching me now, seemingly fully awake, a gentle smile on his lips.
And I don't know what it was, but some crazy impulse was taking over. His request didn't seem at all outrageous to me. I unbuttoned my smock all the way to the waist and peeled it open enough to let him see my tits encased in a pale green bra.
"Take off your bra," he said softly. "I've got to see those big beautiful tits."
I'd already stepped way over the line by fingering his asshole. We were alone in the building. Without giving it a second thought I unhooked my bra's front clasp and tossed it to one side. I went back to work on him with my bare tits rolling about inside my open smock.
"Stunning," he muttered, gazing at my naked breasts. "Absolutely fucking stunning. 36C, right?"
"Close," I answered, blushing yet again.
I was fully aware of the game we were playing, and where this was leading, but I didn't care. I was with someone I'd had a girl-crush on for weeks, during one of the darker periods of my life. And I was enjoying myself immensely.
Keeping up the pretense, and pretending that we weren't probably going to end up having sex of some kind, I continued to use my hands on him, coating his upper thighs with oil and gently massaging it onto his muscles. I kept one eye on his cock, which was now swaying to the left and continuing to angle higher by slow degrees. And I let my fingers trace ever closer to the velvet sac of his balls, which seemed to throb gently in the crook of his thighs.
"You know what you're doing to me, of course," he muttered.
"I can see," I answered, continuing my slow, teasing work on his upper thighs, as if this were all a perfectly normal part of my massage routine.
I let my fingertips graze the lower swells of his bloated ball sac once, twice, three times. And then, ignoring his growing hard-on completely, I poured oil on his lower belly and smoothed it every which way as far down as his pubic hair. I purposely avoided touching his cock, acting as if I wasn't being confronted by one of the biggest, most mouth-watering pricks I'd ever seen. I was being such a tease. But I know he was enjoying this pre-sex game as much as I was. His cock twitched in mid-air and rolled back across his belly to angle up even higher.
"Why don't you come around here so you can do my chest," he instructed. He took one of my hands and led me around to his head, which, because the table was quite low, was now level with my crotch.
As I poured oil on his muscular chest and began to smooth it down his torso, he reached around and opened the last two buttons of my smock. Other than this item all I was wearing were my panties, and his face and mouth were now inches away from my crotch.
My fingers stroked oil down his chest, down his belly, till they were directly beneath the looming bulk of his massive hard-on. For now it really did appear fully erect, a thick, glistening pole of man-meat that pointed at an angle directly at my face.
"Take off your underpants," he instructed quietly. "I want to see your pretty pussy."
Again, all this seemed perfectly natural, a regular part of this extremely erotic game we were playing. I stood up and quickly slid my panties down and off. Then I went back to my massage work as if nothing out of the ordinary were occurring.
"A beautiful, sweet shaved pussy," he sighed. "I knew it would be shaved. I just knew it."
I was over my blushing phase by now. I was standing there naked but for my open smock, my tits heaving, my legs spread as I worked. I was glad, suddenly, that I'd continued shaving my pussy all these months after my break-up with Troy. I felt wanted, desired, by a very eligible and attractive young man. And I was having the time of my life.
My fingers were tracing so low now that I was almost touching the base of his cock. Each time I smoothed down, his prick heaved to one side or the other. I let my fingertips graze against the shaft once or twice and suddenly a fat pearl of pre-cum juice appeared at the tip and drooled down in a long elastic strand to his belly. That was when he tilted back his head between my legs and flicked out his tongue to scrape up the widening slit of my cunt.
I felt myself grow weak in the knees. A quiver of pleasure shot all the way through me. And suddenly all pretense was gone and I was curling my oily fingers around his hard-on and squeezing. My whole body heaved forward, and my mouth was folding over his purple cockhead.
I took in as much as I could at one gulp, easing his cockhead partway down my throat. Then I began a vigorous sucking motion, driving my mouth up and down on the top part of his cock. My left hand cupped his balls and gently squeezed and massaged the bloated sac. My right hand gripped the base of his dick and harshly shucked up and down.
My legs were spread as wide as possible. I let my weight settle my gaping cunt onto his face. And he was licking and slurping at the folds of my pussy, probing deep one second then diddling my swollen clit with the tip of his tongue the next. Sweet sensations rippled through me and I realized I was going to come in record time. Something about having his massive cock plowing in and out of my mouth only speeded up the process.
His hands had reached around to clutch at my taut ass cheeks. His fingers mauled and kneaded my buns, pulling me even more harshly onto his slurping face. Wet, squishy sounds were coming up from my crotch. I'm sure I was soaking his poor face with wads of pussy juice. How he was managing to breathe I had no idea.
It didn't last long, of course. We were both just too damned excited. I began to whimper around his cock as my climax surged and wave after wave of sweet orgasm exploded inside me. The sounds grew even wetter from my crotch and I think I was squirting my climax all over his face.
And that was when a huge wad of semen hit the roof of my mouth and filled it to capacity. Fuck, what a blast it was! It damn near knocked my head off. And I simply had to pull off his cock or choke. As his cockhead slipped from my lips I felt the mass of semen overflow and roll down my chin. Creamy sperm was pouring from my mouth in a mini-torrent and dangling from my chin in thick elastic strands.
