Massaging the Nanny

I just sat down and wrote this after what happened between myself (doing the massaging) and a masseuse that hadn't experienced being massaged by her client in such a way. You will see how I stray from reality, but the massage part is accurate. And her being shy and closing her eyes was entirely true. I've done absolutely no editing, just let it flow out. It may be purely garbage, but I just let it flow. I hope you like it. Let me know how I did.

I noticed Anna looked frazzled when I returned from my business trip. As usual, I had flown first class so felt pampered and almost sheepish when I entered my home and saw Anna so worn out. She had just gotten the kids down and her hair was down, not in the ponytail she usually wore, and disheveled.

You see, Anna is my nanny. My wife passed just over a year ago, and Anna has been such a wonderful help to me. She cares for the kids and the house, and even ensures I take care of myself. She is 22, brunette, with that girl-next-door look about her. She is great, and I am lucky.

As I entered the living room, she was sitting there with recipe books out, trying to come up with tomorrow's menu. The TV was on with Letterman in the background. It was late, and I knew she really needed to be in bed.

We chatted for a bit, I asked about the kids. Then I helped myself to a glass of milk and some homemade cookies. She was hunched over the book, scribbling into a pad. While I sat there, I began to feel sorry for her. I asked how she was holding up, and she took spouted something about all being well, but I knew differently. I had been suspecting recently that she had not been taking care of herself. That she had not been spending time for herself.

I noticed a couple of times that she would run her hand to the back of her neck, almost as if there were some pain, and rub for a while. So I asked her if she would like a massage. Now you have to note, this was not a sexual relationship, Anna and I. She was my nanny. I was strong and virile and older than her by almost 10 years.

I convinced her for the massage, so I moved to the couch, pressing myself deeply back into the cushion. I then opened my legs and patted for her to sit between them. She is somewhat petite, so easily fit between my thighs. She was wearing a tight fitting tank top and some white shorts, perhaps a bit too short. The tank outlined her smallish B-cup breasts, with a pushup bra helping her out. The shorts were tight, but I couldn't discern any pantylines, she must have been wearing a thong.

I began kneading her shoulders and she sat there, cooing as my strong hands kneaded. I measured the distance of her shoulders, she really was a petite girl. Maybe 5'-3" and all of 110 pounds. I enjoyed massaging her, and from her sounds, she certainly enjoyed the massage. Next I went down her back, much like the masseuses do for me when I am receiving a massage in some nice hotel spa. At the bottom, I then did it again, going up. This time, when I hit her bra, she seemed to squirm a bit, almost like it was in the way. I continued on her back and shoulders, and she continued her cooing noises.

She then began to speak, cleared her throat and started over. She asked if it would be alright if I massaged more, not just her back. I said that would be fine. She then suggested the daybed in the adjoining room, as it had a very firm mattress. I told her that I wanted to change out of my slacks and shirt and into something more comfortable. I would meet her in 5 minutes.

I went to my room and stripped out of my business clothes. I also removed my briefs, with a quick glance in the mirror. My length was dangling, with just a bit of lengthening from the stimulation of rubbing Anna. I got into some athletic pants, sort of like yoga pants, and a Tshirt. I purposely kept my briefs off, enjoying the feel of my length against the material.

When I got to the daybed, Anna was already lying on it. She still had her tank top on, but I couldn't see any bra straps. She had also changed her shorts, from the white denim into some silky, almost boy shorts. I didn't know what she had on underneath, because I couldn't see any lines or anything.

I joined her on the bed and began really massaging her back, letting my weight help press into her. Soon she was cooing again. I massaged her arms and hands. When I concentrated and spent time on her hands, I noticed that whenever placed my entire hand over hers, and intertwined fingers to massage, she would soft of grasp my hand, increasing friction. She did it over and over, and I certainly wasn't going to complain. I loved the feeling, and my manhood also seemed to like it, extending and lengthening.

I moved to her legs and massaged down her left leg, on the outside, then up the inside. I made sure to lighten the pressure at the backs of her knees, just like the real masseuses do. And going up her inner thighs, I made sure not to go too far, but softened my pressure and moved upwards, toward her buttock. I hadn't really touched her buttocks yet, just around them. Down the leg, then up. I started to notice that she was slowly parting her legs, each time I went up . Almost imperceptibly, but sure enough, her ankles were a full foot wider than when I had started. I took this for a sign. Until now, I hadn't mean for this to be a sensual massage, just a guy doing a nice thing for a girl that he cared about. But her widening her legs seemed to speak to me that perhaps she wanted more, that she needed more, that she was welcoming my hands into more intimate connection with her.

So I went down her right leg, and on the way up, I crept my hands higher on her thigh, almost to the crease where her buttock joins her thigh. I then slowed my stroke and slowly moved to her buttock and to the outer edge. She shivered a bit and further widened her legs. Each stroke up her legs, I went higher on her inner thigh and included more of her buttock. I switched legs, ensuring each received their needed massage. As I continued, I slowed my hands, switching the massage feeling from therapeutic to much more sensual. By this time, her legs were wide apart, seeming to scream at me to continue higher up her inner thigh.

So I dared to take the next step. This time, when coming up her inner thigh, I slowed to a very slow pace and continued straight up, until I hit the gusset of her shorts, then went straight up her crack. I placed pressure as I went up her crack. Her parted legs allowed my hand to fully stroke the warm of her womanhood and crack, knowing that I had also passed over her rosebud. I did it again, and really felt how warm she was, how soft and inviting the area was for my hands. She shifted and seemed to strain to keep my hands in longer contact with her womanhood. Upon doing it again, I seemed to notice a wet patch beginning to appear at the apex of her shorts, right were her sex was.

Emboldened by my findings, my hands again smoothed up her inner thigh. This time, instead of moving up her crack, I placed one hand fully and firmly on her womanhood and held it there. She grunted and pushed her body back onto my hand. I just kept it there for a moment, then began it's movement between her crack. I immediately followed my first that with my other, this time extending a knuckle to softly vibrate at the apex. She squirmed for more contact, and ground against my knuckle. It sure felt like it was wedging its way between the folds of her womanhood. She was moaning and grunting as she ground into the bed and my knuckle.

I knew she wouldn't object, so I slowly removed my hand and tugged at her shorts. She got the hint, and without looking at me, wiggled them down her body and off her foot, tossing it aside. She then spread her legs wide. All the while she hadn't said a word, and hadn't even opened her eyes. They were tightly shut. At this point I smelled her sex. It was heavenly. It was dark and musty and exquisitely feminine.

My fingers found purchase at her apex, and I felt just how wet and slick her outer lips were. My fingers spent time roaming their length, massaging first one lip, then the other. Pulling on them, distending them, worshipping them. Then with one hand I separated the outer lips so that I could see the pink, glistening core of this most beautiful woman. She was heavenly. My fingers began stroking up and down the inner lips, again worshipping them. Then my fingers went to the tip, where they joined, almost touching the bed. I deftly circled her clitoral hood, not touching her clit yet, just all around. She was so incredibly wet and aroused. Her scent was wafting to my nostrils as my fingers lavished her inner and outer lips with attention. I knew she was ready.

I grabbed a pillow and placed it below her hips, to raise her bum into the air, giving more access. I licked my fingers to taste her juice, then slowly inserted two fingers into her. Not deeply, just barely into her. She almost bucked off the bed as she felt my invading fingers. Her hips bucked and ground and gyrated. She was loving this.

I then moved my fingers sharply into her, delving to her very core. I had done it, my fingers had penetrated this lovely woman in such a sensual and nurturing way. Yes, they were mimicking a much more crude act of what my manhood wanted, but this was somehow different, not invading and not taking advantage and not harsh. This was soft and sensual and nurturing and simply, "just what she needed." My fingers were now stabbing deeply into her core, wetted by her feminine moisture, aided by her bucking, motivated by her grunts of pleasure. Faster and faster they penetrated, while my other hand was busy, finally, directly stimulating her clit. Back and forth and all around.

She was ready to burst. Her breathing was rapid. Her skin was flushed. Her body was tremoring. She was almost there.

I then began moving my fingers, not so much deeply in and out, but with a motion that would stimulate the roof of her opening, her G sponge. That did it. She began bucking her hips wildly, her legs clamped tightly shut, and her breathing stopped altogether. It seemed like an eternity. I kept looking at her face to see any sign of her letting up. I could feel her womanhood rhythmically clamping and unclamping. I could feel tremors in her thighs. But she wasn't breathing and I was getting worried.

Finally, she took a sharp intake of air and slackened her thigh's tight grip of my hands. I slowly rotated my hands and fingers as she came down from her orgasm. I stared at her face. She was so lovely. She was so heavenly. She was so innocent and sweet and young.

She moved her head and ran her fingers through her hair and opened her eyes at me. I winked at her and let myself off the bed and slowly walked to my room. This was not the time for words. This was not the time for my gratification. This was a time of sensual nurturing of a young woman that simply needed it.