Author's note: So for the trolls, save yourselves a little time. If you don't agree with this type of adventure, don't read. There are tags and categories to guide you to your type of story. Second, if I ever found myself in a situation like this for real, like if I was somehow transported to the world of Penthouse Forum contributors, things would probably be different. Of course I would use a condom with a stranger and make sure my partner did too. But for a work of fiction, the future doesn't matter to horny people and they can laugh in the face of hygienic danger, pretending that it's the 60's again and STD's don't exist. For the rest, I know there are a gazillion of these stories already on Literotica. So what? This is my take on it from my own brain with my own images. I HOPE you like it. I mean we all pony up our dollars for "Expendables" (a lot of us did it 3 times), so it should be OK to read a new story on an old topic. I mean really, if one works at it hard enough, one could prove that almost every story or movie is basically a retelling of something Shakespeare already wrote.
Sorry for the rant. Now on with our story. Comments and votes are appreciated from people who can discern a fictional story from real life. That means that just because it's written in the first person, that doesn't make it a real story. Oh, and first person means using "I" like it's told by a real person.
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Normally when my wife and I take vacations, I have a hard time cutting loose for the normal vacation stuff like shopping, excursions, pedicures and spa treatments. Mostly it just feels like my wallet is hemorrhaging money all day and every day on top of all the other vacation expenses. But the last vacation we went on, I budgeted for some of the things I know she likes and surprised her with a pedicure one day and then a massage at a spa another day.
The resort we were in had all the alcohol and food we wanted, whenever we wanted, but didn't have a spa, but the concierge recommended one a short distance away and suggested that we go together and get a couple's massage. I had never heard about couple's massages, but instantly my mind jumped to an image of the two of us getting rubbed down in a room together while I could see another man rub my wife in a safe, semi-intimate way. I always teased her about the massages she got, hinting lewdly that maybe more went on than just a back rub. It led to some conversations about sex with other people, and I had drunkenly shared that I fantasized sometimes about her and another man or me with another woman. She never showed much interest in the same fantasy. We laughed it off as innocent intellectual foreplay.
My mind came back to reality after the quick jaunt to fantasy land. It turned out, from the concierge's description, that my thoughts were close: he said that we would be in the same room and could have our massages at the same time. We could request a "therapist" (he actually made the air quotes with his hands when he said it) of either sex and could even get a four hand massage, which I had to assume was having two people working out the kinks on each of us. He leaned over the counter between us conspiratorially and lowered his voice "this place? This place is really special. I think you will like it a lot. I've gone there many times." I was on vacation, so getting a creepy recommendation from a minimum wage hotel employee seemed completely normal.
I got the address and had him call to schedule us for just the regular couple's massage. I requested a woman to rub me and a man for my wife. I was doing this for her, but getting a man to rub her was partly for my benefit too, as I could only imagine how excited I would feel teasing my fantasy and watching my wife getting even this innocent pleasure from another man. I believed in my head that it would be exciting for her too. I barely thought about the fact that a strange woman would be intimately touching me at the same time, so I guess I was really focused on my wife.
She was excited when I told her about the plans I'd made. Like I said, I have a reputation for holding on pretty tight to a dollar, so she was happy with me for not only cutting loose with the money, but for taking care of the arrangements too. It just shows that women and men think differently. She never said anything about the fact that I had gotten her a masseur instead of a masseuse.
We spent most of the massage day in the warm sun drinking all kinds of cocktails and a couple of ice cold beers and taking the occasional cooling dip in the pool. She had oiled herself with sunscreen several times and her skin had that all day in the sun look, and she smelled wonderfully of sweet coconut oil. Her large breasts were barely covered by her skimpy bikini and her bottoms covered just enough of her luscious ass and pussy to keep her from being thrown off the beach.
The time came to make our way to our massage and we just put on some light clothes over our beachwear, gathered our things and walked the short few blocks to the salon in the balmy heat of streets near the ocean. Away from the resort and down the mostly cement building lined streets, the heat was almost oppressive, even with a breeze blowing through our flimsy clothes. The short walk did nothing to diminish the buzz we had from drinking all day.
The place was a little shady looking on the outside. It was in a beat up strip mall with a second hand store on one side and a liquor store on the other. The other stores in the little mall were small shops for trinkets and cheap tourist clothes. The window had a bright neon sign saying "Massage" and faded window paint declared that they had the "Best Couples Massaging". We went in anyway. They already had my credit card, so we had to at least go inside to check it out.
Inside was a little better. There was a small, cheap fountain bubbling away, some soft music and several different floral smells, which I assumed were the massage oils. Most importantly, an air conditioner cooled the room enough to provide relief from the heat on the streets. A very pretty receptionist in her late 20's professionally greeted us from behind a folding card table and got us "checked in". She wore a white tank top and shorts, the white a stark contrast to her long, tan body. She was friendly, pretty and professional.
She asked us if we had ever had a couple's massage, which we had not. She explained that we would be in a room together with a woman giving me my massage, and a man rubbing Angela. No surprise there, but then she said that if we wanted, there was a curtain that could be drawn between us to let us be together, but still have some privacy. I thought that sounded odd. Why would we want to be separated while we had a massage together? Then she asked if there were any areas we felt uncomfortable about being massaged. I don't know what Angela was thinking, but I was thinking she was asking about "problem areas", like "yeah, please don't work on my left shoulder. It's injured and sensitive." We both said we didn't have any uncomfortable areas.
Our interview and instructions over, she walked us back down a short hallway with two doors on each side. I couldn't help staring at her long legs and shapely ass as we made the short walk. We went through one of the doors and found ourselves in a small room mostly taken up by two massage tables a few feet apart. There was a cord running down the ceiling between the tables and I could tell that was used to draw a curtain between them.
The receptionist, Paula she said her name was, instructed us to remove as much clothing as we were comfortable with and then to lie face down on the tables with towels covering us. The "therapists" would be in shortly. She told us that we should just relax and let them know what we liked and didn't like. She said "but don't worry. We're very good about sensing what is pleasant for you and what isn't. You two will be fine. We're all going to have fun." I caught her use of "we" and thought that it was an unusual way for her to phrase it, but I'm inexperienced at massages of any type and just let it go.
Then she walked out and closed the door. To my surprise, my wife quickly stripped naked, completely naked in about 20 seconds, dropping her clothes on a chair. Then she stood boldly in front of me as if challenging me to do the same. I stared at her firm, full breasts-she was a very full D cup-her nipples had gone erect from either the anticipation or the air conditioning, but the air conditioning was not blowing much cool air into the room. In fact, now that we had acclimated to the new temperature, it was pretty hot in there. I took in her beautiful body for a moment, and then she was moving on to the table to lay on her stomach with her perfect ass proudly displayed for me. She made no move to cover herself, so I put a towel on her back to cover her ass and upper thighs.
