Do you remember when you saw for the first time, the most beautiful woman you ever would see? The one that made both time and you stop, and the one that you would forever compare all other women to? I do. I was 18. Naturally.
At the height of raging hormones and horniness. I had spent the day with my Dad, going about his new town as we searched for cheap furniture to furnish his new place with. Naturally, we hit up craigslist. It was a fun, summer day, great bonding before I left for college.
The first worthy post was from a masseuse office literally a block away, showcasing a nice green loveseat that my dad still owns to this day.
The loveseat didn't look too heavy, so Pop and me popped down. I had headphones in, I was just along for the ride, dwindling behind my dad as we waited after knocking on the door. Then it swung open; and I saw her for the first time.
Tall, tan, and freckled. Auburn hair tumbled past her shoulders, in delightful waves that shimmered in the sunlight. She had on this amazing dark blue top, and her big, freckled perky tits were pushed up against the brim, jiggling as she greeted us. An emerald crystal necklace, drawing your eyes right to them. A more electric blue than the navy that draped her sexy, hourglass torso, her eyes shone and sparkled with a humorous, sensual energy.
I was too dumbstruck to say a word, just staring with my jaw at the floor, stumbling behind my slightly red but still polite father. I had plucked an earbud out, but only nodded politely as she chit chatted with my dad, who was probably regretting getting recently remarried. I couldn't concentrate on anything else; their conversation was a distant din. She was just the hottest woman I'd ever seen. Plain and simple. In film, movies, magazines, social media, reddit, my dad's playboys, anything. I couldn't believe it. The room warped around her.
(Beyond celebrity comparison, Marcy is her own woman- but perhaps if Olivia Wilde had Lucy Pinders body, and tanned, freckled skin. A much hotter and younger Darla Crane, if you know that pornstar- if you don't know who those three are- google them with lotion ready and thank me later)
She glanced at me and smiled, and I never forgot it. Her eyes were a brilliant, nordic blue. Face; magazine cover beautiful, elegant structure and a seductive aged roseglow to her cheeks. She sensed my arousal like a predator to prey. But she played it off with a smirk my way and an eyebrow raise.
She was so cool. That's the thing. I had become completely enraptured by her in mere seconds. I had never thought a woman over 40 to be hot, at that naive point in my life, and never had I thought them to be so chill and innately funny. She was animated, talked in a uniquely smoky voice that drew me in, with her hands gesturing wildly. She even cracked a couple jokes about how lame the town was, called my guns n roses t shirt "awesome" - and the best part-
She modeled how comfy the loveseat was by firstly striding to it with her plump, full ass in full tight yoga pant display, then turning to comically plop down on it. This made her tits bounce up and down prominently- and her dazzling, pearly white smile flashed right to me right after just about made me faint. I was painfully, visibly erect. I had to do one of those; 'lean against the wall and cross the legs' deals.
A maneuver Marcy had caught, and given me another knowing, sultry smile, before turning to accept the crumpled twenties my dad was pulling out of his wallet.
Broken from my trance by my father ushering me to help lift what we had come to collect, we heaved the loveseat out to the alley. In a wooden sign handpainted and decorated with flowers and cardinals hanging next to her door; I caught sight of all her essential info. 100$ for 60 mins, 125$ for 90, and below, a phone number I still have memorized today- from that moment there. Way too shy and embarrassed to be accompanied by my side eye giving, head-shaking Dad, I just blushed and waved quick.
She was texting on her phone but had her vibrant eyes on me, a smile pursed on her lips. I reserved to call her the second I was free, and see if she really was projecting anything like what I was fantasizing.
And after some serious post nut clarity that night in which I had edged for hours on the memories of that day- I decided I was going to do this right.
I worked out like an actor cast to play a leading superhero for months, utilizing my colleges free gym. I could not get that first meeting with Marcy off of my mind. She was the motivation to do all the crunches and pushups, go for that extra rep, try to max out when already exhausted. I truly credit my horniness for that goddess in kick-starting my physical fitness routines. Ill always be lanky, but my abs and that V looked great, I must humbly say, and for the first time ever, my biceps were actually noticeable and bulging.
Because, from what I had gathered online, and much to my dismay- she was not a happy ending type of masseuse. She wasn't on rubmaps, and her website and reviews all stressed either new age meditation relaxation, reiki, or very medically worded physical therapy ratings. Also known as a mystic, she advertised reading both palms and tarot cards. An "authority on astrology" She was also divorced with a daughter that had a couple years on me. This did not turn me off one bit. Opposite effect, really.
Honestly, I was just over the moon to have her touch me in an intimate way. Rub me down in oil, cleavage I had dreamed about swaying in my face- heaven. Seeing her and getting to catch up, make her laugh, make her blush with a sauve compliment- hell, maybe even befriending this cool, hot ass chick- all would be a happy ending enough. (I could and would beat off about it endlessly later- a perfect personal Christmas present to myself)
I had grown to be a horny bastard, but also one with a good heart. I would never impose anything, or engage in outright prostitution. Highest respect for all women, always. But the crush was real, and I would shoot my shot.
The thrill of hearing her voice over the phone, the energy soared straight to my tented briefs as we scheduled the appointment. Just replaying that memory of first seeing her got me rigid.
And with no embellishment, I am a tall, lanky but still built, brown haired, green eyed dude who looks like a Walmart version of Cole Sprouse, but with a big ass dick. (8.75)
I made the nearly two hour road trip down south, and with a heart rate like a jack rabbit, knocked on the studio door.
She swung it open in the exact same manner as years before, only in the twilight of that late gray winter day of slow falling snow- her kimono and ponytailed hair gave her a mystical quality. She cocked her head and squinted up at me in the brisk cold- I was a good foot taller.
"Jesse, right? You're right on time, hurry, come on in, it's freezing! and give me your coat!"
She beamed, and I blushed and nodded, awkwardly shambling a peacoat off. It was mid December.
Her office was the living room of a house reconverted into a massage studio of excellent quality- beautiful, trippy tapestries of mandalas and nature lined the walls, a wooden privacy curtain dominated one corner, as electric constellations twirled on the ceiling and salt lamps glowed around the massaging table. A spaceheater whirred and emitted tremendous warmth. We made small talk that I choked through while I filled out the forms, coughed up the ID, and paid cash (with a 50 dollar tip and a humble smile from my end that made her blush)
It was perfect, and her hand on the small of my back as she gestured to the table set me over the edge. The reality that this was happening- I had to sit down, abruptly. I must have looked visibly overwhelmed because she didn't bring up recognizing me (a topic that would be discussed at length later) and she simply just put her hand on my shoulder and said words I will never forget in a smoky voice dripping with intent;
"Babe, you are about to feel amazing! So breathe deep and relax; get undressed, and I'll grab some water for you before we begin"
She got up slowly, and I smiled and made no secret that I looked straight at her pushed together and popping out tits when she rose. She turned again to see my looking at her ass as she turned to the door, and her smile told me she appreciated the attention. I took my clothes off like they were aflame, and settled, chest down, beneath the silken sheets. The lights dimmed, and the door creaked. Soon smooth hands were caressing my body, as a peaceful candle filled the room. She had started at my feet, and I could not see her. Only hear her hum softly, which only made me impale the table all the more.