My wife Heather is a masseuse in a chiropractor's studio. Tall, tanned, toned & lovely, she's sex on a stick. For a long time I'd had a nagging suspicion that, if she met a client she fancied, she wouldn't be past making the most of the situation and the idea of her oiling more than backs, arms & legs made me strangely breathless. I decided to do a little investigation. I knew that the staff often went out for lunch as a group, leaving the studio under the not-so-direct guard of the receptionist at a doctor's office across the hall.
I picked my time and managed to slip into the waiting room and from there to the private massage room. Unlike the sterile medical ambience I'd expected, Heather had decorated the room in muted shades. Wall hangings softened the hard edges of the room, and incense smouldered in a brass Nepalese holder. The leather massage table in the centre of the room looked strangely business like, though I knew from experience that when you're massaging for an extended time, having the client at the right height is very important. I toyed with the vials of oils on a nearby stand, enjoying the various scents.
Suddenly the outer door opened and I heard voices & footsteps. Shit! A heavy floor to ceiling tapestry offered the only hiding place and, spying a slit in the fabric, I swept it aside and flattened myself against the wall. A small gap meant that I wouldn't make much of a bulge...as long as I didn't get hard!
The door of the massage room opened and I heard Heather walk in followed by her first client for the afternoon. From her questions I gathered that he'd pulled a back muscle at the gym and needed the knots worked out of it. She told him where he could undress and I heard him enter a small cubicle off to one side of the room. Slowly I inched my way to the slit in the fabric and made a tiny gap. Soon he returned covered only in a towel and Heather asked him to climb up on the table and lay face down. He had his feet toward me and I watched nervously as Heather hiked the towel down to uncover his buttocks. Then there was a clink as she opened an oil vial, followed by the gentle slap of skin on skin.
The client murmured in appreciation, but then groaned as Heather applied pressure. She was all business in her white cotton shift as she oiled & kneaded, running her thumbs in long strokes down either side of his spine, before opening her hands and sweeping them out across his buttocks. His hips came off the table a little with each sweep. "Spread your legs a little," said Heather and he complied, giving me a glimpse of his large balls, the scrotum pulled tightly around them. Heather went to work on his legs, using both hands in a spiraling motion on his inner thighs and calves, rolling each toe between thumb & forefinger and working her thumbs into the soles of his feet. His buttocks clenched repeatedly. "Shhhh...just relax into it," Heather soothed.
"OK, time to tan the other side," she said, and her client rolled over. As he did, his towel slipped to the floor and I suppressed a gasp as I saw his cock swing slowly in a big arc before landing with a wet slap on the opposite thigh. Heather seemed not to notice and, walking briskly round to the head of the table she proceeded to anoint his pecs. Now the circular sweeps were mixed with tweaks on his nipples, and long forays down to his hard stomach.
The latter move meant that she had to incline her body just enough so that the fabric of her shift, and the soft breast within it brushed across his face. All this time his cock thickened and flexed. It looked as though an unseen thread from the ceiling was trying to lift it upright, but although it curved in an inverted U shape, the head still lay stubbornly on his leg. Grudgingly it pulsed upward like a cobra raising itself, the foreskin rolling slowly back to reveal a blunt, mushroom-shaped dome, the rim deep and defined. Only when his cock was at full attention did Heather walk down one side of the table toward me, her oily hand tracing his chest and belly.
She reached for the open vial and let oil drizzle over his purple knob, then, wrapping two hands around the ropy shaft, she began to slowly masturbate him. He in turn slid his hand up the back of her thigh and under her dress where he cupped and squeezed her arse. Slowly Heather lowered her mouth to his cock and used the tip of her tongue to spread a drop of precum over his flared knob. Then she engulfed the head, continuing to pump his shaft, one hand above the other, pulling the foreskin on the upstroke until it collected in soft folds around her tightly stretched lips. His hips raised allowing Heather to slip one hand under his weighty scrotum and probe his arsehole with an oily finger.
