I Call That a Happy Ending

I'd been feeling very stiff and sore, almost like I had the flu, but no other symptoms; I decided that recent changes in my workout routine were the cause, and wondered if a massage might help.

I looked up a nearby franchise, and saw good reviews for a guy named Jeremy. One reviewer said that he had gone over on time, giving her a great massage. I thought, "Hope you tipped accordingly", and booked an appointment with Jeremy for later that evening.

I got there and checked in; there was nothing in the waiting room to read, and after sitting a while, I checked the time and realized he was already about 10 minutes late. I stifled a sigh, and just then the door from the massage area opened and standing in front of me was a solidly built man with a small beard.

I stood up as he offered his hand; as I took it, he gave an audible intake of breath, then said, "Hi, I'm Jeremy, sorry I'm late. The person before you has been here before, and she wanted something I did last time that was particularly helpful. I try to please...she should be out in a few minutes."

I thought he was going to then take me into the back, but he smiled again and went back inside. I thought about his little gasp as I shook his hand; the strange thought went thought my mind that he had somehow read my sexual energy, and was reacting to it.

I'd been through a breakup a couple months before, and was really missing the sensual/sexual part of being in a relationship. The thought of a man touching my body, even in the prescribed manner of a paid professional, caused me to feel a shiver of anticipatory excitement.

The inner door opened again, and a fit, older blonde woman in workout clothes came out, followed by Jeremy. I searched her face, looking for clues as to what the "particularly helpful" procedure might have been, but her face was carefully composed, not giving anything away. She did look relaxed, and her hair had that giveaway post-massage mussed look.

He led me back into a darkened room, and asked me what I wanted out of today's massage. I'd filled out the forms that asked the same thing, so I waited as he read it over. "Pain relief and relaxation, okay; any place besides your neck and shoulders that's been giving you trouble?" Was it my imagination, or was there a twinkle in his eye?

He left and I quickly got undressed and onto the table--it was heated, and even though it was warm outside, the a/c had chilled me, so the warmth felt great. He came in with some hot packs, to loosen my tight shoulders, and when I mentioned that I was chilly, he got a few more and put them on my feet and butt.

He started with broad strokes on my back; his hands were warm and he had a heavy touch. As he rubbed me, I could hear him making what sounded like empathetic noises, in between loud exhalations and inhalations. It made me smile a little, and I could feel giggles threatening to erupt. He said something not that funny, but the nervous giggles burst out; I laughed for a while, and he seemed to be going deeper with his strokes. The effect was amazingly sensual, and I relaxed into it.

After a few minutes he asked, "How's this pressure? Do you like a firm touch?" I nodded, almost too relaxed to form speech, and he said softly, "We'll get along just fine, then."

He worked my neck and shoulders for a long while, until I could feel the knots letting go; then he moved around to the end of the table. I was still on my stomach, drooling into the face cradle; he ran his hands over my legs lightly, then pulled back the sheet over my right leg.

He lifted my leg up to tuck the sheet under, and I felt the cool air on my sweaty belly; he had lifted my leg high enough that I was sure he'd seen my snatch. I'm totally shaved, so any moisture is immediately apparent. I thought about whether he saw the wetness I felt there, and that of course made me wetter still.

He wrapped the sheet higher that I'd experienced before, leaving my buttock exposed. As he pulled the sheet tight, I felt it dig into my crotch a bit; that was definitely not imagined. But maybe he didn't do it on purpose...

His strong, warm hands began stroking my leg, kneading my hamstring; as I drifted in a blissful state, I heard his deep, soft voice: "Are you a runner?" I shook my head, and answered with difficulty, "No, I walk a lot, and lift weights." "Okay, must be the weights, I felt that in your upper body. You've got some leg muscles here."

He continued stroking and kneading, moving up and down my leg. He paused for a minute, and I thought he was going to move to my other leg, but instead he began giving my ass a through massage; he stopped again, and I felt warm oil being poured onto my buttock. Oh, my—that felt really good, so much so that I couldn't help moaning.

His thumb kept sliding down with every stroke, closer to my asshole; I was fervently hoping he'd slide it in, just by accident. More oil; more moaning on my part, but then something pricked my ear; he was breathing loudly, in a different way than before. Could he be aroused, or was I just a dirty old woman?

I subtly lifted my ass, pushing it back toward his stroking hand; I knew he felt that, because his pressure deepened in response. Oh, man—I was steaming. I could feel my self-control getting ready to fly out the window, but I knew he was a professional, and things like what I was imagining only happened in dirty magazines.

Except...I could feel his thumb, unmistakeably circling my hole. More oil, and then—yesss. His large, warm thumb breached the barrier, just entering my tight hole and then moving gently but firmly around the opening. I couldn't help it, my ass was moving up and down at that, and soft guttural moans were issuing from my attention-starved core. I wanted that thumb deep inside my ass, immediately.

Instead I felt him pull the sheet away, and his hands grabbed my hips; then I felt his beard and face touching the crease where my leg and ass meet. He rubbed his face around my ass, then he started licking and gently biting; I was coming unglued with excitement.

One part of my mind was reeling in disbelief, the rest of me was enjoying the hell out of it. I was almost afraid that if I made too much noise, he'd stop, so I was trying to hold it in, but little moans and gasps kept sneaking out.

His tongue reached my hole, and I shivered at the wetness; he began circling my rim, using his tongue the same way he'd used his fingers, and I couldn't help a cry of pleasure. The feeling kept getting stronger, radiating out from my center, and before I knew it, I was coming.

I'd never had an orgasm just from anal stimulation before; as I moaned and twisted, I suddenly felt his hands come around under my body, seeking my other opening. With his tongue still in my ass, he started rubbing my sopping pussy with the same long, hard strokes he'd used on my body.

My ass was practically in his throat, I was pushing back against him with such force; moaning, shaking, it seemed like my orgasms would never end. Then one of his hands snaked up my belly to my nipples, giving each an electric squeeze that made me shout.

How long did this go on? It seemed endless, as he went from my ass to my pussy with his mouth, my face still in the cradle and my ass high in the air. His hands were everywhere, all over at once, tugging, rubbing, kneading. Wave after wave swept over me until I was literally wrung out, limp with pleasure. Finally I felt him get up, and say in the same soft, gentle voice, "Take your time getting off the table, I'll see you in the lobby."

I laid there, still in a daze, until I realized I would have to pull myself together. I was his last appointment of the night, but I had no idea what time it was. He would be wanting to leave, and there was still the matter of payment. I'd paid up front when I came in, but this went far beyond a normal massage, and obviously I needed to give him an adequate tip.

I wondered briefly if it would be embarrassing to see him in the bright light of the lobby, and then I wondered if this was what he did for every client; that possibility seemed less shameful than imagining that somehow, he'd realized MY desperation and given me what I really needed.

I got dressed, and entered the lobby cautiously. He was standing there with a glass of water that he handed me; "Drink all of this, massage can really dehydrate your system." There was not even a trace of anything but professional concern on his face; it almost felt like I'd imagined what had happened only minutes before.

Then he smiled, and said, "I'm sorry we ran over a bit; I hope you weren't in a hurry", and I saw a glint in his eye. I glanced over at the receptionist; it couldn't be too late, or surely she wouldn't still be there. He seemed to realize what I was thinking, as he said, "It's 9:20"; my massage had been scheduled to end at 9:00.

It seemed impossible that we'd only gone over by 10 minutes, after we started late, but I found my phone in my purse and sure enough. I grabbed my wallet, pulled out a wad of bills and handed them to him; "Thank you so much, I feel much more relaxed." I wasn't even sure how much I was giving him, but I wanted to make sure he knew how grateful I was for his ministrations.

He nodded, and replied, "I hope to see you again, there are some areas that need more work", and he smiled again. I was already realizing I would have to have another appointment; I wondered if his "services" went beyond what I'd experienced. Trying not to sound desperate, I asked, "Can I go ahead and make my next appointment now?"

He smiled yet again, and said, "Of course. I also have some massage videos I've made, if you wanted to learn some of the techniques yourself...?" "Um..." I stammered, not sure what he was really saying. "They're filmed during actual client sessions, so you can see the techniques I use. I film every appointment, as I stated on the intake form you filled out, then I use the ones that show the best use of technique as these training videos."

I couldn't think of anything to say, so I nodded. That meant...he had filmed me, my ass waving in the air, my shameless groans filling the room. Part of me wanted to hide, but part of me was excited at the thought of seeing myself and experiencing the memory of pleasure. "How...how much is the video of the techniques you used on me?", I managed.

"It'll take just a minute for me to get that particular video, if you'd like to wait; it's complimentary for a first-timer", he explained in a soothing voice. He went back into the inner room, and I stood there wondering if I should be alarmed, upset that he could possibly want to blackmail me with the film. What would he do with it?

He was back within 5 minutes, a video in hand. "Is that the only copy?" He smiled quickly, then put his hand on my shoulder. "Yes, this is the only copy; I promise you that, each client who I believe is interested receives the tape of her session as a way of encouraging continued exploration of these helpful techniques."

"What do you do with the tapes you don't give to clients?" "I tape over them, or destroy them. I want only the best information being given to clients, and I don't push anything on those who aren't interested."

I thanked him for the video, and made another appointment for the following week. I went to my car and sat there, still not quite believing what had happened, except I could feel the reality of it in my body.

When I got home, I popped the tape in, and sat down to watch. It was me; I recognized my body on the screen. It was surprisingly arousing to see, and well before he deviated from the standard massage routine, I slipped my hand inside my panties in anticipation of what I knew was coming.

I guess that's what he meant by, "continued exploration of these helpful techniques"; by the time I was climaxing onscreen, I'd already had several sitting there watching, and remembering. I can hardly wait for my next appointment; I can tell I'll be quite a massage devotee.