Lesbian Massage - and I Had No Idea

She had joined a new health club. It was near where she worked three days a week in the publishing firm her family had owned for three generations. That meant she could go there during her lunch break if she wished, but today she had gone there after work had finished. It was after nine and there were few people around for it closed at eleven.

Catherine, who prefers to be called Cat, is in her mid-forties. She's married with two children and her husband is a highly successful corporate lawyer. They are wealthy and they can both have pretty much whatever they want. Despite all that she is desperately unhappy and very lonely. With the children both away at university and Richard travelling nearly half of each month Cat is alone an awful amount. Inevitably that has affected their marriage and particularly their sex life, which at the best nowadays is intermittent.

She was trying to take off a few pounds and tone up her legs for the upcoming tennis season. Losing herself in the music she pushed her body to the limit going for what used to be called 'the burn' when Jane Fonda started the craze for celebrity work out videos. Her legs ached and her lungs felt like exploding as she completed thirty five minutes fast running.

Cat's work out obsession wasn't just to maintain her trim body. It was also like a penance, a sort of confessional. She worked out so hard she forgot about her sex bereft life-style. She pushed from her mind the lurid thoughts she continually had about other men. She banished the idea that was rarely far from her thinking of having another affair. She'd had one several years ago and had vowed never again. But now she was not sure about that vow. She was not convinced that she would be able longer term resist satisfying the dam of frustration, not sure she would be able to stop herself finding at the best a fuckbuddy and at worse a lover.

The joy of making her muscles scream had a purging effect on her and made her feel a different woman; almost normal she often smiled afterwards.

Completing her hour long 'burn' she changed and went to the pool. Her fifty lengths in the solitude of the water gave her time to think more. But as usual her thoughts were not logical; they were not as they should be. Pushing herself to the limit made her think about her body, made her think about what her body wants and needs. Yes the extremes of the burn made her feel horny.

After the swim, steam and sauna Cat was, as usual on the massage table. She again tried to push the wanton thoughts out of her mind. She tried thinking of work, but then her mind focused on the new, young marketing director. She thought of the upcoming tennis season but her mind was flooded with visions of the young tennis players in their late teens. Near to the end of her swim her thoughts had focused on a young personal trainer who was still on duty as a life guard watching her go up and down the pool. Her mind had gone into overdrive about him and she had imagined trying it on with him and wondered what would happen. Young men featured far more often nowadays in her thinking and when she masturbated, which was becoming more and more frequent, most days in fact. Fortunately, maybe, he left as she was showering.

Usually she could relax when having a massage. Normally the soothing, probing fingers of the muscular masseuse eased the tension away. But tonight for some inexplicable reason that wasn't the case. The life guard kept coming into her mind and the sensuous experience of the hands on her back began to fan the already inflamed passions in her mind and body. It was as if her entire being had become sensitised to the stimulus of sex. Cat had been slow to realise what was happening to her as the masseuse finished her back and asked her to turn over. She had thought it was all in her mind. It wasn't and it was almost with surprise that she became aware that her nipples had hardened under the small towel that the big boned, but not unattractive Polish masseuse used to cover her customers' modesty. There was another small towel draped across her lower body covering her pubes. Cat felt the delicious sense of fullness in her breasts and the tingling, titillating sensations of arousal. Slowly other signs and signals of desire, little awakenings deep within her, percolated through to her consciousness.

The probing hands were on her stomach now. The masseuse had rolled the lower towel down so her pubes were covered as she kneaded the softness of Cat's waist and the flat hard muscle covering her tummy. Sometimes the girl's touch was light, almost caressing the skin and at others it was firm pushing in towards her abdominal wall. This made the delectable stirring move lower towards the heart of a woman's sexuality, her cunt. Cat felt the desire begin to flow from deep inside her and was sensing the build-up of moisture as her growing passion began to take a liquid form.

Her eyes were tightly closed, but she couldn't help thinking about the girl who was, at least indirectly, the source, the conduit really, of these delicious feelings. Twenty five year old Hetti was of mid height, muscular and, in the way most female policewoman and ambulance personnel no matter how pretty are, slightly butch. She had powerful thighs from long hours on the body toning machines and strong arms from pumping weights. She too was obsessed with her body, but in a very different way to her attractive and favourite client, Missus Catherine Moore. Hetti's obsession was about tone and form and shape and size of her muscles. She had an aquiline face and dark hair cut short in a bob, with the only condescension to femininity being the long lock that fell down her forehead. Although having few features that would mean she would be remembered by others, she was quite attractive, especially when she smiled, which made her eyes gleam.

Cat felt a surge of dampness inside her. Hey wait a minute, what was going on here? Women had never been her thing. Why was she feeling like this? Thank God her feelings were carefully concealed and there was no way the masseuse would know of them. It was her own little secret. Or so she thought.

Unbeknown to Cat, the masseuse liked women. She liked them very much, very much indeed. Possibly lesbian and certainly bi she had been with many. She loved the touch of them, the feel of their skin, the flows and curves and the shapes of their bodies. She adored their soft smoothness and their feminine smell. And she knew their secret ways. Years of experience had taught her how to play a woman's body like a fine and delicate instrument. Endless practice and execution had shown her how to feel its silent language of contraction and relaxation, smell its musky messages and see its subtle movements. The tensing of the muscles, the screwing of the eyes, the gripping of the fingers, the intake of breath, the flaring of the nostrils and the almost imperceptible, but to her noticeable writhing and gyrating of the pelvis.

She knew at once that she had flicked some switch in the delicious Missus Moore. That she had struck some receptive chord in the slightly aloof customer whom she had lusted after since they had first met. But she knew that she could do nothing, make no move or initiate any suggestion of intimacy. That was too dangerous; the customer had to give the signals, exactly as Cat was right now. Now she could capitalise on the discovery, use the signs and signals. She piled on the pressure, making the message more overtly sexual as the tell tale symptoms of arousal came back to her from the delicious prostrate form for the very first time.

Hetti had seen Cat in the gym and pool and she had massaged her on the table. She had seen her in her tight gym clothes, her skimpy swim suit and with rather surreptitious looks as she turned over on the table, she had seen her naked. She had seen her by herself, with a male personal trainer, with a few other women and of course with her alone on the massage table. Not once had she seen any sign whatsoever of Cat's sexual interest or desire and certainly nothing at all of her sexual predilections being anything other than dead straight. Until now that is and momentarily she wondered why? She was under no illusions about her looks and body. She realised it would not have been her that was causing whatever it was that was going on inside her client. It was some extraneous force she knew that, but didn't care why should she?

This was one of the bonuses of the job. From time to time she got to indulge her desire for her own sex, occasionally even being slipped a ten, twenty or fifty pound note after. But she had to be careful; she couldn't afford to make a mistake. If she did and she made a move and was rejected she would not only lose her job, instantly, but also her license to practice. With some, a few really, there was no problem at all, they expected it and hence, the tips. The publisher that Cat had told her was her job had 'novice' written all over her. There was no room for misunderstanding. It was all deliciously dangerous. The best way and just how she liked it.

She reached for more oil. Next to near, between and maybe even on, the breasts. The full breasts of the lawyer's wife. She slowly eased the small towel away from Cat's breasts and laid it on the massage table alongside the gorgeously shaped body. God she was so lovely, Hetti thought her ambitions restored her lust starting to grow. She had seen Cat's breasts before of course, for modern massage included working on them to help them stay pert and not sag, something that was so important to aging women. The massage manual, though, did not condone the amount and type of massage that Hetti often gave to unsuspecting clients like Cat. Each time she had seen Cat's boob, their size, shape, fullness and beauty simply amazed her.

Feeling the towel being removed from her breasts and knowing the girl was looking at them always got to Cat. It was a seminal moment in each massage for her mind was now anticipating the hands on her breasts massaging them. She took a deep breath for momentarily it was the young life guard who was about to touch her boobs and not the older masseuse.

Hetti swallowed deeply as flames of passion began to flicker when her hands roamed just below and just above then down the sides of each of Cat's full breasts. Slowly she moved each hand onto the mounds. Her heart pounding from both the slight risk she was taking and from the glorious feel of the soft, pliant flesh, her hands roamed over the magnificent conical tits and brushed against the pouting, rock hard nipples. Her eyes played quickly over Cat's glistening body, her nostrils scenting the familiar perfume of feminine need. Hetti knew that Cat needed relief. Every sinew in her body told her that, told her that this was a screwed up woman who needed satisfying, told her in fact that she wanted to be fucked. But would she be prepared break through the shackles of convention, would she move outside the sexual comfort zone she'd occupied for so long, yes would she give in and let the masseuse service her as she so badly wanted to be serviced. That the Polish girl knew was far from certain, although tantalisingly possible.

To Cat the fever pitch of excitement to which she was being raised was solely the result of her own mental processes; that fucking life guard she thought. She didn't know that inadvertently she had given the game away and was being manipulated as a result. As her body buzzed and vibrated with sexual desire, she remained in blissful ignorance of the masseuse's intentions and was only aware of her own needs and illicit longings for gratification. Dancing in her mind's eye were the muscular quads of the girl whose hands had the freedom of her body. It seemed extraordinary that she had never noticed them before or taken in the sturdy beauty of the strong arms and sculptured thighs, the product of so much sweat and ecstasy. Cat could hardly believe that she was thinking how wonderful it would be to reach out and touch them, to slide her hands up the skirt of the white button up tunic she wore, to fiddle the buttons open and investigate the girl's breasts. Secure in the supposed secrecy of her own thoughts she allowed her mind to wander along the unknown path of female with female lovemaking. As her body vibrated to the wondrous touch of the masseuse so Cat suddenly thought how wonderful it would be to feel the girl's breasts against her own.

If only the sublime fingers would reach between her legs, plunge into her and rid her cunt of that irritant of burgeoning arousal. But why stop at fingers her lewdly creative mind was thinking as the vision of the life guard was replaced with one of Hetti. A tongue was what she needed, even demanded. A woman's tongue to enter her, to lick her and suck her. Yes that was what she wanted, what she needed to straighten her soaring mind and bring her back to earth. What the hell am I thinking? I don't do women; I never have so why am I thinking this now?

In the pool it had been the life guard who she had thought would bring the sexual relief that her robust work out had created. On the massage table, now naked apart from the small towel draped across her lower stomach, she knew the answer. This was the safest. No commitments. No relationships. No ties. And the beauty of it was that she was alone in her own secure and private world of sexual release. No one else, not even the girl who was building her towards orgasm knew what was going on for it was happening inside and not outside the older woman.

Ok Cat thought as the sensations built up, it could be argued that it was depraved to entertain such wild fantasies and to use another unsuspecting human being in this way, but where was the harm? If it enabled Cat regain her sexual equilibrium and not take a male lover, particularly a young life guard with all the inherent risk to her marriage, then the end would certainly justify the means.

Hetti got the message. Monitoring everything that was going on both through her fingers and with her eyes she realised the older woman would admit nothing, wouldn't participate in overt lovemaking and certainly would not pay for being fucked. She wanted anonymous sex with everything ambiguous and with ultimate deniability. On the downside for Hetti this meant little involvement from Cat, but the upside was that this extraordinary woman clearly intended to cum and just as clearly wanted her to make her do that.

Her momentary disappointment was replaced at the anticipation of the game that was to be played. The game where she was to give this adorable creature an orgasm, but neither would be able to admit to it, both on the table and afterwards. Hetti knew that to do this she would have to sail close to the wind and, skirt the borders of acceptable stimulation. She would have to take risks and do things she rarely did, but she knew it would be worth it. To have this beautiful mid-forties rich, married woman writhing in orgasmic delight on her table from her hands was a challenge she would do anything to achieve. Deep down, though, Hetti wondered what inhibitions might be cast aside, what prejudices may be abandoned in the headlong pursuit of the ultimate female pleasure, a full blown orgasm.

And so with all these thoughts whirring in her mind, the masseuse leaned low over Catherine Moore's body as she smoothed her oiled fingers over the alluring, slightly heaving breasts, again brushing against the very clearly fully erect nipples that looked as though they were about to burst. She sent her fingers up into Cat's warm, wet armpits, loving it, luxuriating in it and feeling her prey's breath on her cheek as her breathing quickened. Hetti had to continually fight the desire to bend her face even further forward and take the full nipples between her teeth and suck them hard and long. With her face just inches from the near perfect symmetry of Cat's breasts she had to summon up levels of self-control she didn't know she had to stop herself. Beneath her hand the masseuse could feel the fluttering, pounding heart and the heaving lungs as Cat's whole body reacted to the stimulation. Get the timing right she had to tell herself. Not too fast, not too slow. She decided to take a chance, the situation warranted the risk. With both hands she gently cupped the full, ripe, eager breasts and pushed them together into one mound of delicious tit flesh. Other than a flicker of Cat's tightly clenched eyes and a slight, but sharp intake of breath there was no reaction and certainly no objection. Hetti squeezed the delicious mass of flesh more firmly. Again a movement of the head, but no objection, thankfully. Then, with infinite reverence she moved her hands up towards the tempting, tense nipples. Deftly she took each one between her thumbs and forefingers and squeezed firmly and enquiringly yet insistently. She had gone so much further than both normal massage conventions stipulate, and then she had been with Cat before. But her actions had been contained, just and her customer had done nothing to say she didn't want what Hetti was offering. But she was pushing the boundaries of conventionality to the extreme. Only a pretty way out massage would involve that sort of action -- but if both participants ignored it there could be no clear cause for later complaint. After pinching Cat's delightful nipples quite hard, Hetti instantly relinquished the red hot, bullet hard tips and her hands travelled swiftly southwards.

Cat's confused, churning mind had received the pleasure of her full D cup breasts being pushed together. She had accepted it, enjoyed it and recognised it as being an unusual, but welcoming gesture. He mind had also reacted to the twin messages of sharp, but delicious pain with both surprise and gratification. Neither of these gestures had ever happened to her before either with this masseuse or any other she'd had all over the world, but nevertheless she felt no need to object.

But that, for the first time made her consider that it might be a two way street. Had she given herself away? Had the masseuse worked out that she was turned on, that her mind was seething with erotic thoughts and that orgasm was her objective. The cupping and pushing together of her breasts and the pinching of her erect nipples said yes, the immediate relinquishing of them said the opposite. Where was the truth, what was the reality? If yes, then it looked like she was on the verge of being made love to by a girl. Missus Catherine Moore wife of a leading corporate lawyer fucked by a woman on a massage table, she envisaged as an unlikely headline in her local newspaper. Her intellect screamed defiance at the thought while her emotions howled for satisfaction. Her mind said stop her body groaned yes. What should she do? What indeed could she do? As the irresistible force crashed into the immovable object the two neutralised themselves. Cat took the line of least resistance and did nothing. In more than one sense of the words she was in another hands. How will it turn out she mused adding as an afterthought 'Que sera sera?'

For an almost unbearable moment or two the pleasure giving hands left her quivering body. Momentarily Cat panicked and she wondered if the masseuse had realised something and may have gone to report it to her manager. Cat longed for their return, but was dreading the moment when she might be forced to choose between prudence and gratification.

But then the hands were back dripping with warm, sweet-smelling oil tracing lazy patterns on Cat's beautifully sculpted and slightly parted thighs. The relief at being released from the unbearable state of sexual limbo roared through her body adding to her arousal and sexual expectation. The girl's hands and fingers amplified the change, alternating between digging firmly into the muscles on Cat's legs and caressing confidently her inner thighs. The combination of hard and soft, deep and shallow was like being fucked, Cat's sexually ravished mind lewdly thought.