Don't Tell Jim

{This is a simple tale, not intended to be erotic at all. It is just what happened, lots of emotions involved for me, so I jot it down.

I knew our friend Cindy from our bowling league. We were both very young. Back then I worked part time as a masseur, the idea being to make a few extra bucks to help with the rent. I had other jobs, of course, no male massage therapist I ever knew made an actual living doing massages.

Well, a couple of gay ones I knew about did OK, but I ain't gay.

My client base was nearly all housewife types, women in their 30's to 60's, (one was 73 and lots of fun) I think the reason was that I was young, cute, and in shape and that helped. The pretty young things in their 20's that were single seemed as scarce as the proverbial hen's teeth.

Oh, I did work on some, normally after meeting them somewhere and dating a bit. Those were different scenarios, no pay involved. To be honest here, those situations often meant I did exactly the same things (plus more) that I did with quite a few of the housewife types.

Working, I kept it to just touch, hands. I have no doubt that I could have had sex with literally hundreds of them over the years, I just didn't. I got groped a few times, had women expose themselves, a few came right out and asked me point blank to fuck them.

Some women can be extremely blunt, some are far more coy and drop little hints, and some sigh and moan. The majority were just massages, rubdowns, perfectly legitimate. Especially when I worked at a Chiropractor's office for a couple of years. That was arms, legs, shoulders and backaches, but even there, I ran into a couple of them that wanted more.

Working freelance, in my spare bedroom at home, that scenario seemed to cause a far higher percentage to drop hints.

Cindy was different, and working on her was the first time I ever did a session with the husband there and watching. We did have rules, laws, even back then. They just were not enforced like they are in today's world, now we have a State massage board and all of that.

In today's world, if a masseur dares to touch a bare breast, or expose them, that is a good way to end up with one's face in the newspapers. I will say here that since everyone is adults, the State laws are asinine. But that is just my opinion.

(Enough of my ranting, this is the story of my friend Cindy.}

+++

It was a late August when Cindy came by for a massage. One of those rare days on the Oregon coast that was hotter than blazes, it was close to 100 degrees out there.

Things had developed to where I was working on her every two or three weeks. One would think that since our sessions were very intimate that my wife Debra would be upset, but she really is lacking in any jealousy at all.

In fact, she gets a kick out of me having some fun, which is what massaging women is to me. I tell her everything, just like she shares what goes on at her clinic.

Debra is a Doctor, she sees and touches people in various stages of undress every day, so nudity to her in meaningless. My doing a massage for a female friend with the lady completely naked does not bother my wife one bit.

So, Cindy was lying on my table, and she was most certainly completely naked.

I was about halfway through, getting close to the point where she would be turning over when she spoke.

"Danny? Remember that time when you worked on me with Jim watching it?" She asked. I certainly did, and told her so.

"He told you that you could... you know.. have sex with me, if you wanted to, that is."

"Yes, I remember that, of course I do." She turned onto her side, looked up at me and smiled.

"But you didn't want to? Why not?" Her question caused me to pause for a moment.

"Back then, I guess I had my own morals, my own limits is all." She settled onto her back, unconcerned with being completely nude.

"I guess I understand. Jim had asked me if I would, I told him maybe. I wasn't sure I could of course, not with him watching anyway. Then when he suggested it, I guess I froze, didn't I?" She giggled quietly.

"Yes I remember. It was a new situation for me, too. I made up my mind to keep things within my limits, and always have." I said. I began to work her upper body, using the Coconut oil which is very slippery. One thing about Cindy, her breasts were the softest I ever touched, and her nipples were also very sensitive so using the slippery oil there helped.

"You mean, in all of these years, you never went all the way with anyone during a massage?" She asked. her voice had taken on a teasing tone.

"No, not for pay anyway. There was a few times, but those were.. I guess they would be called relationships."

"We did, just once." She closed her eyes just before saying that.

"Really?" I didn't say anything more, she clearly wanted to talk about it.

"Yes. Jim found an ad, it was a guy that came to the house and did massages. He told me many times that he wanted to see me... do that. So, I agreed, I wanted to make Jim happy." This was something I didn't know, she had never mentioned it before. I continued doing the long strokes up and down her body, easing the pressure, allowing her to relive the memory as she spoke.

"The man did a pretty good massage. He touched me all over, then he was naked and I felt him pressing into me. That was strange, I wanted him to and didn't want him to at the same time." Cindy still had her eyes closed, her voice was now very quiet.

"He was.. doing it, and I could feel him, but I wasn't responding like I did with Jim. It was.. strange. I looked over at Jim, he was grinning like that made him happy, so I just closed my eyes and let it happen. After he was done and gone, I told Jim I didn't want to do that any more."

"Sex is mostly emotions, Cindy. Sure, the physical is a big part of it, but if there is no emotion, then it just doesn't work."

"I just want you to know, I wish you and I had done that back then. I think that might have been different." She opened her eyes and looked up at me. I leaned down and kissed her lightly on the lips, she smiled at me.

Cindy was then quiet for a very long time, I went ahead and worked on her body, taking my time. Older people's bodies feel different than the younger ones, so I was keeping the pressure soft, the strokes long. As she spoke earlier, I had sensed an increase in tension, but now as she was quiet, she was again beginning to relax.

Those of you who have done massages will understand, there is a point where touch can create total relaxation in the person you are working on, and it is a beautiful thing to see. When the body is in the throes of orgasm, the tension is actually quite high. During a very good session, where the trust between partners is high, taking the client from that relaxation state to the peaks of pleasure, then watching as the body slips back into relaxation is amazing.

Cindy had reached that state, I began to allow my fingers to encourage her. She moaned, opened her legs, lifted her hips. Then she looked up at me.

"Danny? Lick me? Please?" She said in a whisper.

That was something I also did not do, not with a client. Now I enjoy it very much with my partner, but in this type of situation? I stepped to the foot of the table, leaned down and began to tease her with my tongue.

Her pussy was hairy and unkempt when I first worked on her. Now she was carefully trimmed, her lower lips bare. I felt myself begin to erect, another thing that in a therapist/client situation I seldom did. I carefully began to insert my index finger, watching for a reaction. Cindy moaned and lifted her hips. I stroked the upper portion of her vagina slowly, in time with my tongue. She had her eyes squeezed tightly shut.

For several long minutes, it was just Cindy, with me trying to give her pleasure. When she slid over the top into release, it was obviously very powerful. Her body shook, she gripped the lower sheet with both hands.

Then finally, we were done. I used a soft wipe to dry her, she really was quite damp. Then I picked up one of my large bath towels, wrapped her tightly and tucked it in. She watched me do that, her eyes barely open. I went into the bathroom, washed my hands.

She was sitting on the edge of my table when I came back out. The towel was bunched at her waist, her breasts bare. There was no trace of shyness, between us, that had long since passed.

"You know, Danny? So many times over the years I have wished that back then, we had gone ahead and done it."

"Really?" I smiled at her.

"Yes, I always found you.. attractive." She grinned. I was looking her up and down, her upper body was still flushed light pink, a sign I know well.

"I always found you attractive myself." I told her, which was the truth. She hopped off the table, went in and used my shower. Then she came out and dressed, as we made small talk.

We talked about my Tomato plants, honest to God. That because of a platter of them I had sitting on our counter. She told me she would try my methods next season. I gave her a small basket of some I had already picked.

At our door, she turned to me, lifted up on tiptoe and kissed me lightly on the lips.

"Next time, can I maybe return the favor?" She asked me with a giggle.

"Maybe." I answered with a grin.

+++

September on the Oregon coast normally means rain, not always but most years you can count on it. This year, it was a few weeks later than usual, but when it did come, except for a short burst in late August, it had been dry. It made up for the dry season with a vengeance.

I was out gathering the last of my Tomatoes, rain is death on them as they suck up water and will rot on the vines if you aren't quick in getting them. I always quit watering them completely as soon as they begin to turn color, they seem much sweeter that way.

I heard my phone ringing inside the house, so I went in and picked up. It was my wife, Debra.

"I thought I should call and tell you, honey. Our friend Cindy was brought in to the hospital, she has suffered a right side stroke."

"Oh, crap! How bad is it?" I asked.

"It's bad. I doubt she will make the night."

I sat down, bawled like a baby.

+++

October on the Oregon coast is a month that we can count on rain. Normal is at least some rain every day.

I looked around the grassy field, there were perhaps two dozen people there and a man stood there and spoke about Cindy and her life. I wanted to step up there and speak about the real beauty of Cindy, of course I could not. None of those people would ever understand.

So, my wife Debra and I sat quietly, holding hands as others spoke of our friend's life.

Our secret Cindy took with her, as I will myself in due time, other than relating it here.

We were both young people once, we became friends in an odd way. The friendship was renewed, almost by accident. And, it was a very intimate friendship, the kind that few can even understand.

So, I sit here and write this. I just tell the story of what happened. Cindy loved me, and there was not one single thing she could do about it. Nor, could I. Not really.

Could I have loved Cindy? Had things been different I am sure I could have.