What A Referral 1

I had a new client coming in for a business consultation regarding her new business startup. Not knowing what kind of business she was starting, I prepared for a rather boring first meeting. 'Rachel' had been referred to me by a doctor I represented, so it looked like this could be a good bit of new business.

My secretary, Elise, escorted an attractive brunette into my private office. She wore a basic business suit: you know - hair up in some kind of bun, dark, non-fitted jacket, matching skirt, sapphire blue silk blouse, only one piece of jewelry. She appeared to be in her mid-forties, not a hard-body but not overweight. She had a very relaxed manner, showing me that she had dealt with lawyers before; this had the strange effect of putting me at ease. Elise brought my coffee and Rachel's herbal tea (I didn't even know we had that stuff!). Before pulling the door closed behind her after, Elise quickly flashed me a "thumbs-up" signal, something she always did when a new client appeared to be a heavy hitter bringing lots of business.

As usual with new clients, I came out from behind my desk and sat directly across from Rachel. Moving from the desk usually has a way of relaxing the client; this time, however, it was more - I was drawn to this woman. I had to stop and remind myself that I needed to be the professional here.

She told me she had been a massage therapist for 27 years and was finally planning on going out on her own. I remarked that she didn't look like she could have had a driver's license for that long. She smiled and thanked me. Her brown eyes twinkled when she said it. As she told me about having worked for the same physical therapy clinic for the past 17 years, she shifted in her chair. My eyes drifted to her legs as the slit on the thigh allowed her skirt to ride up. I spied just a glimpse of pale skin above dark tan nylons before I caught myself and refocused on what she was telling me. Suddenly, she stood and removed her jacket, complaining of the stuffiness of the office. Those jackets hide so many treasures! The silk blouse turned out to be sleeveless, fitting loosely at the arm over rather large breasts. A deep turquoise bra peeked out under her arm. Though it was a lovely color, it appeared built for real support – it was not, as I like to put it, simply 'lingerie frosting'. Again, I caught myself drifting away from our conversation and into, well, that place men go when confronted by an attractive woman. I felt my cock stir; this snapped me back to reality and I refocused my attention on her.

I asked several questions about her new business plan. She had obviously done her homework as far as lining up clients and sources of referral. Wandering again, I noticed that a couple of buttons on her blouse were unfastened, displaying ample cleavage. Thank God for Wonder Bras! Rachel then asked me, "Have you ever had a real massage?"

Her simple question caught me unaware – I am not used to being questioned, I am the questioner. I swallowed nervously, before I answered "Yes, if you count those old guys at the YMCA who sort of pound on you."

Rachel leaned back and laughed, saying "That's like saying you've had French cuisine because you ordered french fries at McDonald's." When she laughed, her skirt rode up, exposing a clear view of her bare upper thigh - she was wearing a garter belt and stockings. Once again my cock sprang to attention as my mind resumed its lascivious wanderings

A slightly bemused smile told me that Rachel had apparently caught me looking while she asked if I would like to have a massage. Hoping that she had not noticed my arousal, I adjusted the legal pad on my knee upward to my lap. (I know it would be a good story, but I'd be lying if I said it was covering my cock while resting on my knee...)

"Yes, I think I would enjoy that very much."

"Yes, I think you will," she said, mocking my serious tone. Smiling, she rose. As I began to stand, she put her hand on my shoulder. "You don't need to get up. You look like you need to get ... organized." She turned and picked up her jacket. As she slid her toned arms back in the sleeves, she said she would see me in two hours, and walked out. I noticed a sway in her hips as she walked away from me.

As the door closed behind (while I'm thinking of behinds...) her, the questions rushed at me like breathless children. 'How did she know I would be available? Was my rising testosterone so obvious? How did I lose control of this interview? Am I that predictable? Why was I going'......

Well, my hard cock definitely needed to be "organized", my suit had become a pinstriped tent. Adjusting myself so I was not so protuberant, I walked out to Elise's desk and had her cancel my appointment for later that afternoon. She gave me a slight smile, not unlike Radar O'Reilly, that said 'already done, boss' and asked if I was checking out our new client. I told her that I was. She smiled and asked me to tell her all about her touch tomorrow. I was not quite sure what all had transpired in the reception area, but my secretary seemed quite informed and more than a little interested.

I went to the gym, ostensibly to work out, but really just to blow off this uncharacteristic nervous energy. It's not like I was desperate for the money; no, this felt strangely like... like high school! I was going to see a new client, yet I had those crazy adolescent 'first date butterflies' ...and I was sort of

enjoying

them!

After I had quickly showered and brushed my teeth, I slipped into the car and put on some smooth jazz. Light traffic and a bit of nervousness helped me pull up at the address Rachel had given me five minutes early. She had told me she worked out of her home; it was a tiny house with big trees in a nice area. The backyard was surrounded by a rather high privacy fence. I rang the doorbell and she answered, wearing the blouse and skirt in which I had seen her earlier. She had removed her heels and appeared much more petite, yet her breasts seemed to be even larger on her shorter frame. Inviting me in, she padded away from me. That same sway in her hips caused my cock to stir. Damn it! I had my hopes up (as well as my cock!) about where her hands might touch me, but I needed to be professional.

I took in the wonderful smells her home had as I followed her through her living room. When I commented on the relaxing fragrances, she smiled and told me that it was the aromatherapy doing its job. She took me into a darkened room. There was a padded table in the center of the room with an easy chair kitty corner to the back wall. There were a couple of candles burning and some soft jazz playing. Telling me to get undressed and showing me the hangers for my clothes, she walked out of the room and pulled the door halfway closed.

Now, I know I am no Adonis when it comes to the looks/body department, but I also don't think I am half-bad, either. I am your basic Steve Martin in 'Planes, Trains and Automobiles' – I have prematurely white hair, I look really good in a suit and overcoat but I stay in shape with basketball and some weights. The hair on my chest matches the hair on my head. My cock isn't huge, but it's respectable. The thing that is noticeable about me in the shower is my balls – they're kind of a big deal. It's funny – guys will ask stupid questions about your balls that they would never ask about your cock. No guy would ever say 'how come your dick is so big?' but I can't tell you how many times I have been asked about my balls in the shower at the gym. I have gotten to the point where I just say, 'hey, my boss told me the job took brass balls so I just bought some'. Most people would say, personality-wise, I am the love-child of a recovering wiseass and a lapsed tightass.

I felt very relaxed as I loosened my tie and removed my shirt. The room was warmer than the rest of the house, something I began to appreciate as I sat in the chair to remove my shoes and pants. I looked up after removing my shoes and socks and caught some movement in the full length mirror on the room door. It took my breath away.

Rachel was in the room across the hall. It appeared to be her bedroom. She reached behind her and unzipped her skirt. It pooled at her ankles at it revealed what I had glimpsed earlier: a garter belt and stockings, which framed a rounded ass and great legs. The deep turquoise panties and garter belt were the same color as the bra I had caught a peek of back at my office. My cock stiffened as I sat there, enjoying this unexpected strip show. I touched myself through my pants and automatically began to worry if I would get caught. 'Wait!' I thought. 'I'm

supposed

to be getting naked!' Laughing at myself, I removed my pants and boxers quietly, not wanting her to stop my show before the massage.

As I continued to watch her, she bent over and picked up the skirt. I noticed a few tufts of dark brown pubic hair spilling out from under the panties. While she hung her skirt, I studied her closely. While she was definitely over 45, I could see the strong muscles in her legs move as she stood and held the hanger. Walking to the closet, the skirt disappeared inside.

Turning toward the door, Rachel then unbuttoned her blouse and shrugged it off her shoulders. Her bra had four hooks in the back. She reached behind her and unhooked each of them. Turning away from her closet again, she slid the two straps off her shoulders and I got my first look at her breasts. They were magnificent. She could have held a softball under each one, they were still so full. She had dark pink areolae the size of coasters. She lifted each breast and rubbed the underside, where the red marks from her bra marked her skin. Very faint tan lines highlighted each of her gorgeous tits. After rubbing them for a while, each nipple began to protrude.

Speaking of protruding, my cock was at full attention. As I watched her rub each breast and tweak her nipples, I stroked myself slowly. While I continued, she moved her hands down her sides and across her belly. I noticed a faint line from her navel which disappeared into her panties. Dark brown pubic hair stuck out on either side of the turquoise "V". She hooked her thumbs inside her panties and slid them over her hips, revealing a mass of hair between her legs. I have always had a thing for the "natural look" when it comes to pussy. I don't go for hairy legs, but a thickly furred pussy really turns me on. The tan line from her bikini bottom created a picture frame around her lovely, rich pubic curls. I swallowed hard; this was becoming far more exciting than I had expected....

Rachel ran her fingers through her thick pubic hair, fluffing it and lingering there. She looked at herself in the mirror on her closet door and smiled. Spreading her legs slightly, her hand picked up the pace. Transfixed, I was stroking myself faster. Looking down the hall, she stopped suddenly. As she reached into her closet and pulled out a light cotton dress, I realized she was coming back and hurriedly lay face down on the table. My cock was pressed against my stomach and I had to fight the urge grind my hips into the padded table.

"All ready?" she asked, walking through the door and closing it behind her. The light cotton shift she wore had a deep neckline and was unbuttoned a few buttons already. The way her breasts swayed, I knew she hadn't worn anything underneath. She moved over to a small table next to the wall and undid the bun her hair was pulled back into. Thick brown hair fell down her back.

"Close your eyes and relax. Get a vision of a favorite place, a favorite person and a favorite food and let them surround you."

'You are surrounding me,' I thought to myself... As I lay on the table, she began to slowly brush my back, shoulders and legs with her hair. It was all I could do to stay on the table. As she worked her way up my legs she lingered just a bit on my ass.

She must have sensed how excited I was because as she reached my shoulders, I could feel her warm breath in my ear as she whispered, "Relax, we have plenty of time to work all the stiffness out..."

I heard the rustle of cloth and then felt her hardened nipples brushing across my back. What a unique contrast of texture - the soft firmness of her breasts and the tantalizing turgidity of her nipples. She traced soft curves on my back, tiny electric touches where our skin met.

"Don't forget to breathe," she whispered in my ear again. I felt the humid warmth of her breath on my neck as I willed myself to breathe. Inhaling deeply, I sensed the sandalwood muskiness of her. A gently strong hand lay still in the small of my back. I could feel the smooth hardness of buffed nails and soft skin.

It was only then that I noticed the soft blend of jazz playing in the background. A sort of jazz/new world blended with the sound of the ocean caressed my ears. 'Hmmmm ... there was something else ... it was ... breathing?' A soft moan ... punctuated by the languid pace of the waves.

"Who...or what is this?" I asked in a hushed voice as her hand began a slow, rhythmic, moody circle in the small of my back.

A small giggle escaped her lips: "This is a special CD I made. I really liked the album, but I wanted to bring the warmth of the beach to my studio, so I added the ocean and......other stuff."

"Really?" I asked. "Where did you get the ocean sounds and ... stuff'?"

A gossamer whisper of a voice, which matched her touch answered me "I took an MPEG recorder to Maui with me and recorded the sounds of me masturbating on the beach."

I moved with a start at the sheer surprise of her words and the image she had given me. She was fondling me .... with the image.

"When I got home I just overlaid the album with the ocean......and stuff. Hard to guess, but I am kind of a techie. Now that you know, I will let you in on a little secret.....I love the sounds of sex. Now, please, don't make me ask you to relax again," she said with what I guessed was a soft smile in her words.

Liquid warmth flowed from her hand as she began to slowly pour a cinnabar scented oil into her relaxed palm. The warmth of the oil, along with her gentle touch moved me from taut anticipation to a relaxed knowing. There would be satisfaction here. No need to stay ever alert for a tiny sign of openness to something more - more was here and the only anticipation need be of "how?" A second hand joined the first as she began to spread the oil over my back with calming, smooth strokes. I slowly opened my eyes with my face resting in the face cradle. All I could see in the dim light were two petite, manicured feet and a bare expanse of leg.

The sight of her legs, coupled with the feeling of her hair and breasts on my neck and shoulders brought me to full attention. Rachel moved to my right, always maintaining contact with my body, and began a slow, powerful back massage. What seemed like years of tension began to ebb slowly from my body. The tightness in my shoulders fell away, flowing into her and coming back as calming, reinforcing energy. As she worked her way down my back into my butt and thighs, a warmth began to radiate from the relaxed areas.

"What is that.....heat?" I mumbled.

"Oh, that is the cinnamon essence in the massage oil; it warms your skin when I work it in."

Just then, as she massaged my glutes, her little finger lightly traced the crack of my ass - a brief, light touch that ended as quickly as it began. Working her way down one leg and then to the other, the strong, long strokes continued. Knots seemed to untie themselves, soreness simply ceased. The radiant warmth of the cinnamon oil worked its magic, causing my skin to reach an exquisite simmering temperature. As Rachel began to slide her hands up the insides of my thighs, she almost imperceptibly parted them until my feet hung over the edge of the table. Taking each arm in her hands, she quietly lowered them to a hanging position on either side. I felt, oddly, exposed yet relaxed. I really was in her hands.

Tracing pinstripes on the skin of my legs, made more sensitive by the cinnamon essence, her fingers danced until she began to slowly brush my balls with the backside of her fingertips, teasing, and promising at the same time. I tentatively reached for her leg as I moaned softly.

"That is quite all right; you have been more than patient. Mmmmm...nice balls, by the way. They are more than a handful" I could hear the smile in her voice as she spoke, never stopping her light kneading and brushing. She reached under me and closed her hand around my hardness. She began a light stroking and cleared her throat.

"May I work a bit more deeply?" My moan of assent preceded my surprise, when I felt her climb on the table and lay on me. Her head nestled in the crook of my neck, breathing (I gotta remember to breathe!) in my right ear. I took an inventory of her body on mine: her left cheek to my right, her breast to my shoulder blades, her belly to the small of my back, the soft roughness of her pubic hair on my ass, her legs pressing my inside thighs, her feet inside my ankles.

My cinnamon-heightened skin felt as if I could know every cell of her. She cooed in my ear as she began to slide up and down my back, grinding herself into me. As I pressed hard against the table, she slowly slid to my right, bringing her left knee up to my groin and applying soft pressure. As she straddled my right thigh, our moans met as we both pushed forward to enter/receive a lover who was there, but wasn't - who we could feel, but desired more. I wanted to feel her wetness on my thigh, but I also wanted to embed myself in her.....

She had cast an erotic spell. When she spoke those five magic words – "You can turn over now" - I took my time, stretching upward, enjoying the unknotted suppleness of my back and legs as I felt her sliding weight shift off me and to the floor once again. As I rolled over, I caught my first glimpses of her since the mirror. I wanted to taste her, touch her, inhale the three dimensional nakedness that was Rachel. Her skin was immaculate; her eyes danced with a quiet promise, the light heaviness of her breasts, the tangled shimmer of her hair..............I took her in as if my eyes could swallow her, rolling her across my visual tongue and savoring her.........

"Do you like?" Her voice entered my consciousness as I heard her seaside sighs and throaty moans from the recording. It was as if she was playing herself like an erotic harp, knowing when to touch, where to touch and how. As I looked through her, I could see her on the beach and here, past and present. I could taste her sighs on the beach, the low murmur of her pleasure.

"Do you like?"

This time, I heard her. Reaching up, I slowly pulled her face toward mine and tasted her lips, softly taking her lower lip between mine as I groaned an "Mmmmm" that wordlessly said "You have no idea how much, but I will try to tell you". There was a slickness to our kiss as we each wet the other's lips, tongues moving languidly, but with purpose. Rachel and I explored each other as if we had no other organ than our mouths. Releasing her head, I kissed her neck and shoulders, a trail of wetness moving toward her breasts. The crimson flush of her cleavage, the hard pinkness of her nipples, their weight and roundness - I was giving into her sheer.....presence.

I slid down the table as I beckoned her to it. Laying her back, I continued the exploration of her with my tongue, darting into her navel, tracing a line of wetness to her brunette center. I breathed her musky cleanness, an aroma which not so much spoke, as screamed, sex. Blowing hot breath across her hair, she involuntarily lifted her hips to present her wetness to me. I traced the outline of her hair, the curly delta. Trailing soft-yet-harder kisses down the inside of each thigh, I met Rachel's moans with my own. I wanted nothing more than to feel the scratchy grind of her lips against mine, my tongue on her pinkness.