Wife Massages College Athletes

Well, it happened. Rebecca quit her job!

I'm proud of her. She hated it. She worked as an office administrator for a local tech company.

She said she was one of the only women in the office, and by far the most attractive one.

After her big black boss had been offered a position at another company, she said all of the annoying wimpy men thought they had a chance, and always tried to flirt with her. She had to be polite with them to keep her job, while also fending them off. She said it was exhausting, and the pay wasn't even that good.

She had always wanted to be a massage therapist. We did some research and it turns out it's quite easy to get licensed as a massage therapist. She went to a couple classes, got her certificate, and was ready to start!

The only problem was that she had no experience whatsoever. Massage parlors generally only hire those who have at least a year of experience. It's a bit of a catch 22. Need experience to get the job, but can't get experience without the job.

I suggested she post some ads on various classified ad sites to see if there was any interest. I said I would help her. So we did.

We received a lot of replies from unsavory men who had confused her legitimate posting as a stealthy advertisement for prostitution. The only real replies we got were from athletes from the local state school who could not afford to go to more established parlors. Eventually, we managed to get three interested applicants. She scheduled them for the same day. I bought a massage table and helped clear out a room in our home so that she would have a space to work.

On the day of, my wife dressed in regular athletic attire. She said it was only right, considering there were athletes coming over. She was wearing a pair of very tight yoga pants along with a tank top. I was a little concerned with how much cleavage was showing. And she didn't appear to be wearing a sports bra. I could see her straps and a little bit of her bra it was peeking out of the tank top.

I expressed my concern. She brushed it off.

"I have to be comfortable," she said. "Plus, they told me that the real money in being a massage therapist was with repeat clients. I need tips!"

It was true. She was charging very little, to the point where a regular college kid who spent all his money on beer could afford to have her hands all over him.

The doorbell rang and I got up to answer it. I opened the door and shook hands with the young man in front of me. He appeared to be either a freshman or a sophomore. He was a little short, maybe 5'9. But very fit.

"Welcome," I said. "My wife is right this way."

Why did I phrase it like that? I quickly followed up to turn the conversation away from the fact I was leading a man to be massaged by my wife.

"Play sports?" I asked.

"Soccer," he said. "You cool with this?"

"With what?" I replied.

"You know, your wife and the massages," he explained.

"It's her profession," I replied curtly. We didn't talk after that. I seethed quietly at his attitude.

I led him to the room where my wife would be working on him and opened the door. My wife was standing over the table, rubbing massage oil between her hands. Even though it was part of the job, it looked very erotic. Her ass was nicely outlined through her yoga pants and I got the urge to rip her straps down to expose her large breasts to the young man.

"Hello!" she said happily. She was in a great mood. Working from home, and without those annoying office nerds!

"Hey," the athlete said. He sounded slick. I closed the door, still a little annoyed at him, and walked over to my office door, which shared a wall with the room my wife would be using to massage the young athletes. I sat down at my desk and put in my headphones to try and get some work done.

A few moments later, my office door opened, and my wife entered. I took off my headphones.

"He's getting undressed," she said. "Exciting, isn't it? My first client!"

Trying to be a supportive husband, I nodded in approval. She stood there for a few moments, then exited to go back to the room.

I took my headphones out within a few minutes. I wanted to hear what was happening.

I couldn't make out the exact words, but they were definitely having a conversation. It sounded like the soccer player was sweet talking my wife as she massaged him. I found myself getting angry, but I managed to calm down by remembering that this would only be temporary until my wife had the experience she needed to get hired at a real massage parlor.

The massage lasted about an hour. After it was done, I heard my wife let him out the front door. Then she knocked on my office door and entered.

"How'd it go?" I asked.

"Good!" she replied.

"I did a pretty good job, I think. He seemed to enjoy it," she continued.

"Was he talking to you?" I inquired.

She rolled her eyes. "He was hitting on me," she said. "Young guys can be so annoying."

"I hear that," I said. Not many girls ever hit on me, but I tried to put myself in her shoes.

I was content knowing that she had been annoyed by the sweet talking also. Though, I wondered... she hadn't seemed *that* annoyed.

About an hour later, the next young athlete arrived. He was hispanic and told me he was a baseball player. His frame was much larger than the soccer player before him, and his arms were big and meaty.

I led him into the room shut the door to return to my office. Once again, my wife came into my office shortly after, with an excited look on her face. She gave me a big kiss before she returned to the massage room. I yearned after her as she left the room. The yoga pants let you see every little bounce and jiggle of her ass. Delicious. It invigorated me and I spent an hour completely focused on work with my headphones in.

My concentration broke when I heard the front door slam. I guess she had just finished up.

She knocked on my office door and entered.

"Wow!" she said, rubbing her hands together. "This is tough work. He had so much muscle, I had to really dig in. I'm tired!"

I found myself getting strangely aroused by thinking about my wife massaging the muscles of another man. I tried to put it out of my head.

"Just one more?" I asked. I knew the answer already, but I was trying to make conversation to distract me from my thoughts.

"Yep," she said. "Said he plays football."

The doorbell rang and I went to meet the last young athlete of the day. I opened the door and felt very intimidated. He was black, and a beast of a man. We shook hands and his grip strength hurt me a little bit.

I inquired as to what position he played as I led him to my wife. He told me he was a linebacker. I opened the door and let him into the massage room.

When I was back in my office, images kept flashing into my head. I briefly imagined my wife riding him. What the fuck was wrong with me?

I tried to regain my composure. My wife would be walking in to allow him some privacy while he undressed. I didn't end up putting my headphones back in.

I heard the massage room door open, then the voice of the athlete.

"It's fine," he said. "Just look away."

My wife obeyed and closed the door. I wondered if she actually did look away.

I guess he had undressed and laid down on the table. Then I heard my wife.

"Anything in particular you want me to work on today?" she asked.

"Legs and glutes," he said.

There wasn't any noise for about 15 minutes. Then I heard the athlete shout.

"Ow!" he said. "God damn it!"

"I am so, so sorry," said my wife. "Here, I'll be gentle."

I would later learn that she had been massaging his buttocks, which was basically two large orbs of compact muscle. She had been trying to get deep into the muscle fibers but had accidentally pressed too hard and caused him pain. Then she had relaxed her touch and was gently rubbing his ass. Technique is important.

There were no more outbursts for the next hour, nor any talking. Just my wife working to unlock the muscles of this big black college linebacker.

"Alright, time's up," she said. I heard the linebacker get up. The other two athletes had politely waited until she exited the room to expose themselves, but I guess he didn't care.

"Ouch," he said. "Not going to lie, that wasn't the best massage."

"I'm sorry," said my wife. This wasn't good. Just one bad review on Yelp could ruin her.

"Is there anything I can do?" she asked. I pictured what must be happening in the other room. The big black linebacker was probably standing up, completely naked. I would imagine he would be rock hard. And my wife would be standing at attention in her skimpy athletic attire, asking him if he needed anything.

However, the linebacker did not reply. I did not hear anything from the other room.

Then I heard him grunt.

"That's good," he said. Then more silence.

"You'd think a massage therapist would be better at this," he said, annoyed.

"Here, bend over," he said.

"Oh!" cried my wife. I would later learn that he had, without her permission, pushed her so that her hands were on the massage table, and her ass was sticking out at him. Then he had pulled her yoga pants down.

Upon hearing my wife cry out, I jumped up and ran into the other room.

When I got there, here is what I saw. My wife was bent over on the massage table, facing the door. She had taken her tank top off and was only wearing her bra. Her yoga pants were around her ankles. The big burly black linebacker was completely naked, and inside her, with his meaty hands on her hips, thrusting. My wife looked up at me. She was shocked, but smiling.

As soon as I entered the room, the linebacker tensed up and my wife's eyes got wide. He let out a shout and pushed deep into my wife. He had just ejaculated inside of her.

I ran out to grab the phone and call the police. The man shouted after me.

"Hey! Get the fuck back here!" he commanded. I was frankly afraid of him. I found myself meekly coming back to the doorway to peer inside. He was still inside my wife.

"You call the cops, I tell 'em how your wife is a whore," he said. "Wouldn't want that in the local paper now, would we?"

I stood there, frozen.

"It's okay, sweetie," said my wife. "It's okay."

There was a pause, and I saw a look of triumph on the black linebacker's face. Then my wife took control of the situation.

"Hey, get out of me," she said. The linebacker pulled out. Nobody said a word. He let himself out.

We considered calling the police afterwards, but my wife convinced me not to. The linebacker was apparently a star player who had a real shot at the NFL. She didn't want to ruin his career. And she said that she couldn't afford a negative review or for her reputation to be ruined by his lies. She was very convincing.

The next weekend, the same young athletes came over. My wife ended up giving them all happy endings after their massages. She said the soccer and baseball player were just so sweet, and she could tell they were pent up from their athletic activities. She said she gave the linebacker a blowjob, because he wouldn't settle for a handjob.

Word started to spread about the attractive wife who gave special massages to athletes. She was booked solid. In particular, a lot of hispanic baseball players and black football players ended up in our home.

At a bare minimum, my wife would give them happy endings. For the bigger, more muscular men, she would usually let them fuck her. She said it was the job of a massage therapist to make clients satisfied, and if these young athletes needed to release their frustration on her, then so be it. She sometimes helped out four or five big muscular men on the same day. She was constantly exhausted, but happy.

I gradually adjusted to the lifestyle. I liked seeing my wife happy, and although the thoughts had been abhorrent at first, I came around to the idea of my wife being used by these athletes. In between sessions, she would work to pleasure me, and while she did, she would tell me all about the athletes and how strong their bodies were. It was confusing, but highly erotic. She never let me cum until she was done with her clients for the day.

Although I know it's illegal, I ended up installing a hidden camera in the massage room. One night I confessed to my wife about this. I had saved up over 100 videos that I had used during my masturbation sessions.

We were drunk, and we decided to upload all 100 of them to a popular pornography website. They got a lot of views very quickly.

One of the football players found out about the videos and started blackmailing us. He would receive free massages and sexual favors in return for keeping the secret. We didn't really have a choice, so my wife submitted to him.

He told some of his friends, and soon my wife was working for free. The athletes would come over whenever they wanted and do whatever they wanted. They even forced her to do anal, which she initially hated, but ended up loving.

After my wife got pregnant from one of the young college kids (birth control isn't 100% effective), we decided to take our chances and move a couple states over. Everything was fine, for a bit. But a few of the students managed to track us down and continue their blackmail. They pack a car full of bodies and come to our home to gangbang my wife.

This happens about every weekend, and we're still trying to figure out how to get ourselves out of this sticky situation. If you have any advice, please let us know.