Rubbing It In

I like giving massages, and am pretty good at it. I recently learned that giving a good massage can have unexpected pleasurable consequences.

It happened this past summer. My wife was out of town for the week visiting her sister, and I was temporarily living the life of a bachelor. By that, I mean I was eating out more than usual and staying up late to watch action movies that she doesn't care for. In other words, the typical life of a fifty-something married man who is, if not off the leash, at least on a longer one.

Let me take a moment to talk about married life. My wife is a perfectly fine woman who has, unfortunately, lost interest in sex some years ago. We get along fine, and I have no wish to leave her. I do miss sex, but I don't like the idea of simply being accommodated; I want to have sex with someone who likes it as much as I do. So I masturbate, and indulge in the occasional fantasy about women I meet.

One evening I had just returned from dinner and was deciding how to spend the next few hours when my doorbell rang. When I opened the door I saw my neighbor Janet.

Janet is a couple of years older than I am, divorced, and while not a fox still an attractive woman. But she wasn't at her best that night; her face was tired and tense.

"Hey, Janet, what's up?" I asked. I moved aside to let her come in and waved my hand toward the living room in invitation.

Janet walked into the living room, sat down on the sofa, and put her head in her hands. "I'm sorry to just show up like this" she said. "My head has been aching fit to kill for the last hour and nothing I have at home has been any good. I even decided to go to the CareFirst place, but then I decided to stop in here and ask you if you have anything for a really bad headache."

"Well, let's see," I said. "Let me get something cool to put on your neck and I'll take a look in the medicine cabinet."

I got a washcloth, ran cold water over it, squeezed out the excess, and gave it to Janet. Then went to the bathroom to check out our supply of meds. Nothing stronger than Ibuprofen.

When I got back to the living room Janet was stretched out on the sofa face down with the washcloth on her neck. "Sorry," I said. "Nothing that you probably haven't already tried." I sat down next to her. "Would you like me to drive you to CareFirst?"

"No thanks," she said. Her voice was slightly muffled by the pillow under her head. "This compress has already done wonders. I wish I had thought of it before I bothered you."

"No bother," I said. "Maybe you were just tense. Rough day?"

"Not really," she answered. "Maybe just too many not great days piled up. We're all worried about layoffs at work, and Paul missed a school meeting." Paul was her ex. I had never particularly liked him, but didn't have any reason to dislike him either. I did know that Janet and Paul had their daughter Kelly on alternate weeks and that this was Paul's week.

If I had thought about it first I would have been too self conscious to touch her. As it was, I just acted on instinct and began to gently massage her shoulders.

After I started, I wondered why I had done such a personal thing with someone that I really didn't know that well. But she didn't seem to mind. It was a little awkward because I was sitting at Janet's right side and had to reach a bit to get to her left shoulder. But I kept up the gentle action, smoothing the muscles that join the neck and shoulders, letting the warmth of my hands mix with the cool of the cloth.

A minute or so went by, and I could feel Janet relaxing under my touch. I continued to work on her neck muscles, extending the length of my strokes to cover her upper arms. "That's really wonderful," she mumbled. "You can keep that up just as long as you want to."

As always, I enjoyed the act of massaging. I let myself fall into the rhythm of up toward the neck, back down the arms. My downward strokes now included massaging Janet's biceps by briefly wrapping my hands around her arms and squeezing gently. I was so caught up in the massage that several minutes passed before I realized my fingers were gently grazing her breasts each time I did that. And that her breasts weren't hampered by a bra.

When I did finally notice, I almost jumped up in embarrasment. But Janet certainly didn't seem to mind. "Probably hasn't even noticed it," I thought. But once the thought was in my head it wanted to stay. In fact, it began to occupy more and more of my attention.

Automatically I moved to the next step in a full massage, changing from a sideways motion across Janet's shoulders to a downward one along the her spine. In this part I work on the muscles in the side of the back, and that means rubbing from the middle toward the side. And again, I found my fingers brushing Janet's breasts. This time it wasn't entirely accidental.

Now it seemed obvious that Janet didn't minding my touch. Each time my hands slid down her sides toward her breasts she raised herself a little up from the sofa cushion. Almost as if to make more room for my hands near her breasts.

Was this really happening? Or was I letting my fantasies get the better of me?

I wanted it to be real, and decided to find out once and for all. If I was wrong I could say that I slipped.

On the next rub down her sides I let my hands slide all the way around until they cupped Janet's breasts fully. I was prepared to pull away with an apology, but instead was thrilled to feel her press against my hands, to feel her nipples through her shirt. And to hear her say again, but with an entirely different voice, "You can keep that up just as long as you want to."

I was thrilled. I left my awkward position at Janet's side to straddle her, resting my knees on each side of her hips. And as I continued the massage down her back I slowly worked her shirt up and out of her jeans and let my hardening penis press against her firm backside.

When her shirt was free I reached under her again and this time was able to caress her breasts without any intervening cloth to dull the touch. Her nipples were now fully firm, succulent little buds that called out to be gently tweaked and pulled. I rolled her nipples gently between thumb and forefinger, and was rewarded with a small shudder that told me Janet was enjoying my attentions.

My penis was now fully erect, straining against my jeans. Janet pressed up against me, sliding her hips softly from side to side to increase the maddening, marvelous friction. She had also moved one hand down between her legs and was doing some massaging of her own.

But massaging was my job. I slipped my hands around her to find the button at the top of her jeans. I freed the button, then slowly began to explore with my right hand. I felt the smooth, warm skin of her lower belly. Then my wandering fingers found the first traces of her pubic hair. A bit lower, and I found the first faint rise of her vulva. Lower still, and my middle finger began to trace the delicious divide between her labia. I grazed her clitoris and Janet shuddered, then pressed herself hard against my finger.

The pants had to go. I regretfully moved my hand back up and slid the zipper down. Standing for a moment, I worked her jeans down and off of her legs, and before resuming my kneeling position over her I slid my own slacks off.

There was a lot less between us now. My penis was so hard it hurt, and the feel of Janet's bottom rubbing back and forth across it with no more than the cloth of her panties and my boxers between us was almost more than I could bear. I slid my right hand inside the right leg of her panties at her thigh and then around to the warm, wet cleft between her legs. I cupped her vulva in my hand, then slipped my middle finger inside her while using my thumb to circle her clitoris. As I increased the depth of my thrust I let the circle get smaller, now barely grazing the sensitive little nub each time around.

My penis slipped out of my shorts and lay against Janet's firm left thigh. Reaching back with her left hand she began to slowly run her finger tips up its length, stopping just below the head. Then, with a slow, graceful motion that almost drove me mad with desire she tenderly circled the swollen head with the tips of her fingernails.

I was now beyond restraint. Again I stood, and again I stripped us both. This time, when I resumed my position straddling Janet, she raised herself on her knees. I reached around her to cup her breasts in my hands and slid my penis between her thighs. For a few seconds we teased each other, lightly probing, softly pushing. And than in a sudden thrust I slid my penis into her welcoming vagina.

She pushed back against me to fit me in as deeply as possible, and for a moment we simply stayed that way, my hardness in her softness. Then I began the slow rhythm, slipping almost all the way out and then sliding back in. Janet responded by rotating her body against mine, making sure that I explored every inch of her. She was deliciously tight, and each movement rewarded me with almost unbearable sensation.

Because I had masturbated just the night before I was able to maintain some semblance of control. We stayed locked together for minutes, now driving urgently against each other, now moving in a slow, steady pulse. Finally Janet, who had been almost silent, began to sigh. The sighs quickened and deepened to something like gasps. And then she was suddenly bucking against me, pushing back so hard that I had to fight to stay upright, and the muscles of her vagina tensed and relaxed, gripping and releasing me with the fierce intensity of her orgasm. That sent me over my edge, and with a shuddering sob I shot what felt like gallons of warm semen deep inside her welcoming body.

We stayed there, deeply coupled, for some uncounted time. Then Janet slowly let herself collapse on to her stomach and I followed to keep us together. And we lay there, my penis growing soft inside her, while we caught our breath.