Tag: Exchange student gets more than she bargained for from the local "masseur".
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Trudging up the long hill toward the house where she rents a room, the exchange student narrows her eyes at the acid-bright sky. The migraine that has lasted for days pulses at her temple. She is relieved that her day of classes at the university is done.
A block from her gate, an herbalist gazes out of his storefront. His white teeth gleam from the dimness within. He smiles out over the glass counter, asks how she is. A thick shock of black hair falls over his cheek. She responds that she has had a bad migraine for days, as she steps out of the sun onto the narrow tiles in front of his counter.
"A massage would help with that. I can give you a massage if you'd like" he said. As massage is common in her country. Her friends commonly traded massages, back home. She consents.
She enters the dim passageway, whitewashed. He meets her there and leads her to a small room, bare but for a heavy wooden table in the middle, a few chairs, a small, carved cross on the wall. She feels a hint of nervousness. The room is surprisingly cool, compared to the heat of the street.
He tells her to remove her shirt. She does, but leaves her bra on.
He motions for her to remove her bra. Embarrassment floods her, though this request does not surprise her. Massages are performed without clothing in her home country. She removes her bra.
He motions her to lie down. She does. The migraine pulses in her temple. She is hopeful that it will fade with the massage.
She closes her eyes. He strokes her temples, back and shoulders with firm, slow motions. Her migraine recedes somewhat with the dim light and firm, slow massage. She can hear his breath, and the soft shirring of his clothes as he moves around the table.
After a time, the herbalist clicks his tongue twice, gently lifts at her shoulder. She turns over, and lies face up on the table.
She briefly glances at his face, then closes her eyes and attempts to relax. The pulsing in her temple has markedly decreased. She thinks of her lover and wonders what he would think of her receiving a massage from the herbalist. He tends toward jealousy.
The herbalist strokes her abdomen, her shoulders, arms, then around the mounds of her breasts. Her nipples firm with the proximity of stimulation. He stops stroking her skin and remains still. After a span of silence, she opens her eyes. He is looking at her breasts, eyes locked on the hardened nipples. His black eyes briefly meet hers, and then he reaches out to pass his palms over her shoulders. She closes her eyes once more.
Suddenly, it occurs to her that she is laying on a dining room table in the herbalist's home. A shot of fear pulses through her body.
A sharp intake of breath, her whole body tenses as she feel a soft, wet warmth on her nipple. Her eyes open wide, she see the black forelock against her breast, as the man sucks firmly on her points of her breast. "What are you doing?" she says in English. She raises her hands to push him away. He leans on her arm and pushes her other hand down with his hand. "Ssshhh." he responds.
Her groin is suddenly hot, swelling, almost painful in response. He lifts his hand to cup her other breast then takes the nipple between his fingertips, rolling and squeezing it. Her hand lifts as if to push him away, but he gently pushes it back to the table surface.
She feels a wave of shame, shock, and indecision. She fears making him uncomfortable. She wants to avoid embarrassment. Her nipples feel waves of sensation in response to his movements. She can feel her pussy pulsing as his mouth pulses on her nipple. Cologne-like smell and something more animal, musky, wafts toward her. She tries to roll to the side to escape his urgent mouth. Her nipple pops out of his mouth.
He takes hold of the wet nipple with his other hand and continues to manipulate it while staring into her eyes. "Tell me you don't like it and I will stop doing it." he says quietly.
She stares at him, unbelieving. "I....". She stops... "I don't know...." Her eyes close once again. She lies still. He moves quickly, almost silently to the other side of the table and leans down to take the other nipple in his mouth.
What the fuck is happening to me? Why don't I get up?
she thinks.
It's not my fault. He won't let me get up.
Her pussy pulses as he strokes her breasts with his palm. She feels herself losing contact with reality.
"I've watched you walk past for months. I've dreamed of sleeping with you for months. Your tits are incredible. You know that, right? You know that every man on this block dreams of sucking your tits, right?"
