My Happy Ending Massage

The first time was awkward and a little embarrassing. It did not go completely as I hoped and I left after half to three quarters of an hour excited at what I had done, but not fully satisfied.

"It's often like that," the young guy in his mid-twenties said. "Well the first time, but don't worry it gets better the next few times.

He left me then to have a shower and get dressed. Ready, I went to the reception and Greg was waiting.

"I hope to see you again Cat, will I?"

"Yes I think so Greg."

"It will be much better next time, much, much better I assure you," he said. "You'll be more relaxed."

"Yes I expect you are right."

"Would you like to book something now?"

I thought for a moment or two and replied hesitantly. "Yes, ok why not?"

He opened up his iPad and asked. "When? I do have availability tomorrow and Friday, it's often best to do it again quickly."

I got what he meant so I checked my diary on my phone and said. "Yes I understand that, how about Friday?"

"Eight ok?"

"Yes that will fine."

"I'll look forward to seeing you then Cat, eight on Friday."

I left the Victorian house in Highgate, North London with my heart pounding having just booked my second happy ending erotic massage.

*

I am just over forty-five and have been married for what seems ever, but in reality is nearing twenty-five years, my silver anniversary. I have two children both of whom are away at university and a husband who travels extensively with his job and works murderous hours when he is home. I do not see much of him. I am bored and lonely. And on top of all that the lack of consistent sex with my husband makes me almost continuously sexually frustrated.

I knew that I was a prime candidate for an affair. I had one several years ago, but that was with a man who I thought was probably the love of my life. We may well both have been the love of the other's life, but we did not have the courage to break up two families so we parted. The memories of that affair were still with me. The sex was phenomenal, but that was due to my love for David. The excuses, the lying, the subterfuge and the getting up from one bed and going home to another were awful. So much so that I had vowed never to have another affair and I had not. So I was in a classic catch 22 and there seemed to be no way out

I had gone back to work and by chance I met a lady on a training course gave me the solution. This was over oou third bottle of wine on the last night of the five day course.

"Many of the women I know who have jobs like ours," she told me. "Use escorts as I have done, but they are too much like a date, you have to talk to them, maybe have dinner and generally provide the location. They are ok if you want to try and play act romance, but if it is just sex you are after and you are comfortable with yourself about acknowledging that there is a better way."

We were at a training centre just outside Manchester and had finished dinner. I had met Margot on the Sunday evening at registration. We had got on well and had lunch and dinner with each other each day. She was from a brewery company and had a similar job to mine.

"You've got your iPad with you haven't you?"

"Yes why?"

"Let me show you something on there."

I logged on and handed it to her. She went into Safari I noticed and typed in an address, waited a moment or two then handed it back to me. I looked at a website that was elegant, stylish and modern in soft colours with nicely constructed phrasing. In essence it was for a massage service for women that promised to provide the 'ultimate erotic experience with the happiest of endings.' It advised that clients could choose a male or female masseur or, have two of each or one of each.

*

It was vaguely ridiculous I knew, but on the Tuesday evening I got ready as if going on a date. I washed and groomed my shoulder-length hair that since my new job I had kept as blonde rather than changing colour every few months. I wore tight, black trousers that were moulded to my hips, bum, stomach and pubic mound like a second skin and a button up white blouse with the top three buttons undone showing some cleavage. I had strappy heels on so that my deep red painted toe nails were on view. Underneath I wore a slither of a thong and a diaphanous white, low cut bra. I felt good, but smiled as I drove down the AI from St Albans towards 'my destiny' in Highgate. 'All this to go for a massage.'

I was far, far more nervous waiting for the big, black door to the house to be opened than I ever had been on a date, but then it was so many years since I had been on one. Greg answered the door and showed me into a room at the back of the house with a nice view over the well-kept garden.

"Welcome back," he said moving over to the window and closing the blinds.

He was wearing a white tee shirt and blue, track suit trousers that had three white lines down the side. "Thanks," I said nervously having strong second thoughts and wondering whether I could go through with it.

Several times since my last visit on Tuesday I had decided that I would cancel and forget all about it. But then as the sexual frustration built up as it did most evenings, I would change my mind again. On the Thursday I had been in a hotel in Norwich. During the drive up in the morning I had decided I would definitely not go and had held that belief during my back to back meetings. After checking into the hotel at around eight and ordering a room service steak and salad with a half bottle of Merlot, I began to waver as the arousal built up. However, I still thought I would be able to resist going to see Greg even after I had undressed to my bra and panties, sensible businesswoman stuff, and was finishing my meal. I held the same opinion as I removed my bra and logged onto my laptop. I wavered a little more as I stroked my C cup breasts and pinched my prominent nipples. Even when I went onto the porn site that had a huge selection of massage videos I thought I had a good chance of resisting. As I watched a lovely looking girl being massaged by a hunk of a masseur, I had my doubts. When he fingered her and she grabbed his cock I got serious doubts. And when that lovely looking girl and I came at the same time I knew it was futile resisting.

Greg adjusted the lights, asked if it was warm enough and clicked on an iPod filling the room with lovely classical music.

"Ready Cat?"

"Yes."

"Ok would you like a shower?"

"No I had one just twenty minutes ago, thanks."

"Ok well I will leave you to get comfortable," he said handing me a dark blue towel. "Lie on your back on the table and cover up with this and I will be back in a few minutes.

The room was sparsely furnished with a wardrobe in which I hung my clothes, a low cabinet on which there was a number of bottles, a small flamed heater, presumably for heating the oil, a few towels, all dark blue and some jars. It was all very clean and neat and orderly. In the middle of the room was the massage table that I saw was wider than the ones I had used in the spas I had visited; it also had two head holes, presumably for two people to be massaged at the same time.

Undressed almost shaking with nerves I laid down on the table and covered myself with the towel. As I waited for Greg I wondered whether I would be able to relax enough to avoid a repeat of Tuesday's session. I was wondering also just how far he would go in providing 'the ultimate erotic experience' and whether I really would have the 'happiest of endings' as the lovely girl had in the video to which I had masturbated yesterday evening in that hotel in Norwich.

There was a tap at the door and Greg came in. He had changed and was wearing a pair of loose, grey shorts and a singlet, similar to what athletes wear. The shorts had a drawstring round the waist that was tied in a bow at the front. His arms and legs were quite deeply tanned; he looked good. As he stood beside the bed I saw that the shorts seemed to be quite tight for his bulge was quite obvious; that sent a little shudder through me.

"Let's do the back first shall we Cat?"

'Bollocks' I thought realising that I would have to turn over and he would see my nudity. Given what he might be doing to me quite soon this was slightly ridiculous, but Greg, for some reason, played the same game. Lifting the towel from me he turned away thus, averting his gaze from my naked body. Smiling as I turned over and laid on my front, I realised that I was considerably more relaxed this time. I felt him lay the towel back onto me and realised that he must have folded it for it came to about half way between my bottom and my knees. He didn't tuck it in under me, but let it hang down the sides of the table.

He then gave my shoulders and back a wonderful and really, apart from two actions, an excellent 'straight' massage; it was as good as I had experienced at most spas and I almost forgot that I was here for quite a different purpose. The two actions, though, that reminded me why I was here were significant and arousing.

He came and stood at the top of the table with his tummy touching my head and softly massaged my scalp and shoulders. That was lovely, but what made it significant and arousing was that in between doing my scalp and shoulders he would lean forward and massage right down my back to my waist that was just inside the line of the towel. As he did that his body pressed against the top of my head and I felt his bulge.

The other factor that differentiated this from a straight massage was that he took hold of my wrists, lifted my arms and laid them above my head. Then, as he massaged my back so his hands would drift along the sides of both my body and my breasts that were squashed against the bed.

The feelings from both of these actions made me tingle with expectancy

From my previous rather abortive visit I knew his procedure; all masseurs follow a routine and he was no exception. After finishing my back with the pretty straight massage that he livened up with the two intimate moments just to remind or reassure what this was all about he said.

"Ok Cat, the legs now, ok?"

"Yes," I muttered my speech distorted by me having my face squashed into the hole in the table.

He moved away and round the double size table. I had my eyes closed so did not see where he went but deduced his movements by the sounds he made. I knew that he was now at the other end of the table by my feet. I felt his hands rest on each of my ankles and as he had before he pulled my legs apart a little. They were not wide open, but just sufficiently to indicate his intentions of turning up the heat and to enable him to massage the insides of my legs.

First, though, he did my feet and that I found very erotic. He lifted one and rested the bottom of it on his body, around his waist I guessed. Then massaging both the sole, top and toes he sent shivers of expectation through me; strange I know, but there you go. Putting the first back on the table he lifted the other one and repeated the slow, sensual massage, it was both relaxing and arousing at the same time. Then holding my foot he slowly, or so it seemed ran that down from his waist across his stomach the side of it rubbing against his bulge until it also was on the table.

I felt loads of oil or nuro gel being drizzled onto my legs all the way from just beneath where the towel was laid across them to my ankles. The feel of the warm liquid was lovely. He ran his hands all over my legs easing the oil into my skin in preparation for the massage. Then just like last time he gave firstly my calves and then my upper legs a straight fairly firm massage; he really was very good and I enjoyed that.

Then, of course, things had to change and his hands started going under the towel and further up my legs until after a few minutes of tantalising near misses he pushed them all the way and onto the cheeks of my bottom. By doing that his wrists took the towel with them and I knew that I was laying there with my butt bare and my puffed up, soaking wet pussy lips open to his view. He then massaged each cheek at the same time rather vigorously at first, but then slower and gentler as he kneaded the soft, pliant flesh of my arse. Now, of course he went further. Several times his hand slid into the crease between my cheeks and up onto my waist. Then when they returned downwards his fingers pressed against my anal hole before sliding between my legs along the length of my lips. As he did that so my entire body reacted just as it had previously when I had cum hard and long and that had finished the session. I was more prepared this time and although I was near to a climax I managed to hang on until eventually his hands went back down my legs and concentrated on the back of them and my thighs.

"I don't think we need this any more do we Cat?"

"What, sorry?" I muttered having no idea what he was talking about until he laid the towel that had been, to an extent, preserving my modesty, on the table beside my arm. I realised then, rather stupidly, that I was lying on his massage table naked, with my legs open, my lips soaking wet and my body receiving a minor orgasm from him.

"No, no I guess we don't."

"Why don't you turn over now then?"

This time there was no pretence, no charade and no making out this was straight. As I rolled over I saw his eyes devouring my body and, I realised, I loved it.

"You have got great tits Cat," he said pouring the oil onto and between them.

Rather lamely I replied. "Thank you," as I watched his hands slowly move towards them.

Last time we had not got this far so I was now moving into uncharted waters.

Standing beside the bed he placed both hands on my chest mid-way between my breasts and my waist. Looking right into my eyes he moved both hands upwards further and further until he was cupping both orbs in his hands. He paused and waited a moment with both of my tits pushed together, almost as if he was waiting for my agreement, which I guess he was really. If ever I gave a tacit agreement this was it for my showing no resistance, doing nothing to deter him and simply laying there my arms by my sides I was agreeing to his suggestion that he should massage my tits. And boy did he do that; it was wonderful.

Given the nature of what I was doing, paying to have a happy ending massage, I could not believe the intensity of the feelings Greg was giving me. I hardly liked to acknowledge that they were as strong if not stronger and more extreme than I get when I have made love to men I thought I loved.

I couldn't look at him, though. Looking into his eyes felt too personal and intimate. I didn't want that, I didn't want affection even of the type many women persuade themselves they experience with, say, a one night stand. No this was driven by one thing and one thing only, my need for sexual fulfilment. So I closed my eyes tightly and simply let the wonderful sensations his stroking, caressing, pinching, pulling and squeezing of my full breasts and hugely hardened nipples wash over me.

Of course I have had my breasts caressed, of course they have been stroked and squeezed, cupped and pinched, but until now they had not been massaged and what an experience this was turning out to be. Standing beside the table level with my hips Greg was leaning forward massaging both orbs at once. His thumbs were spread out from his fingers with the former gliding quite firmly up the inside of each breast and his fingers sliding along the outsides. Starting at just above my waist, they moved slowly up my glistening skin, onto each breast and then bringing his thumbs and forefingers together he pinched each nipple and then pulled on it. It really was heaven.

I was sighing and my head was rolling slightly from side to side. My eyes were closed and my mouth was open as I gasped for breath. I was clenching the paper and the sheet on the bed and my back was slightly arched. I knew that I was in the early, actually not quite so early stages of my orgasm. It had been a long, long time since I had cum purely from having my breasts stimulated.

Then annoyingly, but in some ways as a relief his hand s left my breasts. His timing was perfect for that stopped me cumming, but held me at that wonderful place just below the extreme of an orgasm. He had taken me up the mountainside and now held me just before the peak. When a lover can get a woman into that state it is fabulous.

Standing to my right, he poured more oil onto my legs from my hips to my knees and started on them. Beginning at my knee on my right leg his fingers dug into my muscles a little, but nowhere near the pressure that I was used at a spa, and slowly slid upwards. Again as he had when he massaged my breasts his thumb worked either, the top or one side of my leg and his fingers the other. He had parted my legs a little way so that he had no problem with his fingers getting access to my inner thigh. My heart was pounding when stupidly so late I realised that by doing that he had no problem also with visual access to my most woman places. My pubes that I had trimmed into a neat landing strip were clearly on show and my pussy lips, which were glistening my arousal by their wetness would be like a beacon to his gaze. But strangely in these circumstances it did not seem to matter. It seemed almost inconsequential to worry about the fact that I was lying naked on a double size massage table as a stranger looked at my most intimate places. I guess that was how I was supposed to think, how women who pay for sex need to think how women who do what I was doing need to act and believe if they are to get what they seek and that is no strings, no attachment and no tomorrow sexual relief.

He moved round the table to my other leg. He poured even more oil so that, I thought to myself almost giggling, my legs are outglistening my pussy!

Nearly all this time I had my eyes closed. I did not want to look at him or to register visually what I was paying him to do to me. It was almost as if he was a machine that I had turned on and would switch off when it had served its purpose and that, of course, was to give me relief, to satisfy me and to give me the powerful orgasm or orgasms my body demanded.

Instinctively and from experience, he knew what I wanted and needed and that now was the time for that. He had seen and evaluated my every move and gesture, he had assessed my eye and mouth movements and the way my fingers were gripping the paper protecting the bed from the oil and he had watched my body squirming and my bottom lifting from the bed. He had done all of that because that was his job, that was how he earned his living and how he persuaded women like me to return to him, some of them I learned later, time and time again.

So this time as he massaged me, as he is supposed to towards my heart and that is up my legs, up my thighs, towards my groins and stomach and yes, where it was just dawning on me I wanted them to be, towards my cunt. And as I lay there waiting to receive his hands and fingers I knew that was my destiny, my ultimate objective and that my mind 'saying' the c word was exactly what I needed to do.

But then on one upward sweep he did not stop as he had on others, but he went on, he continued his journey and yes he let his fingers slide along the length of my lips until they found my clit. He pressed and rubbed that as near perfectly as it had ever been pressed and rubbed before. It was as though I had been struck by lightning. My whole body jerked and I could not stop myself grunting almost animalistically and moaning. "Oh my god."

"Ok Cat?" He asked squeezing my breasts with hand and rubbing, my clit with the other.

'Ok,' I thought. 'Ok, fucking ok it was marvellous.'

"Yes Greg, yes it is," I moaned.

It really was the most amazingly erotic situation I had experienced. The combination of lying naked on a massage table, buying sexual relief from a man almost young enough to be my son as he caressed and stroked my pussy and my tits was such a powerful aphrodisiac that I, quite naturally I suppose, started to cum.