He wondered if he'd ejaculate or die first.
Stan had never thought of himself as someone who would schedule massages on a regular basis, but his chiropractor said it would help both his back and his stress. He couldn't stop thinking about how his nude body would look to a complete stranger. He would be bare-assed to a woman who touched bare asses all day, and he hadn't been with a woman in almost six months. He couldn't stop wondering what would she think of his naked body, or how he would react to a woman's hands all over him.
What if I get an erection? Will she scream? Run? Suck me off?
Samantha's arrival didn't make this last series of questions any easier. She was a perfect hourglass shape with beautiful breasts and appeared fresh out of massage therapy school. Her skin looked smooth from body butter treatments, and her cute hair was in two short pigtails. One nostril was pierced with a small, thin ring, and her low-cut yoga pants and high-cut belly shirt showed off a smooth tummy and sunburst tattoo on her lower back.
"Have you had a massage before?" She asked.
"Never," he said, catching himself gawking at her. "Is it obvious?"
She smiled. "It's all right." She handed him a sleep mask that smelled of lavender, and then patted the massage table's headrest. "Put that on and then put your face here. I'll put a sheet over you so you won't get cold. Just breathe deep and let me know if I'm too hard on you."
He was half-asleep before she was done with his legs. He had no time to become aroused. The rhythmic rubbing of her hands dropped him further and further into a hazy slumber. He imagined his body was a mass of clay that she was shaping to her liking. He dreamed of warmth and the ocean, of jellyfish and undulating sea anemones. The aromatherapy mask was cool on his eyes and plunged him into a void where only his breath and sound of her oiled hands on his flesh were audible.
The brush of her belly on the top of his head pulled him back to semi-consciousness. Her fingers tickle-rubbed up his spine. There were moments when her arm bones rolled over him like iron rods, but then were as subtle as a tennis ball rolled over his back. Her belly pushed into his head as she leaned over to push into the top of his buttocks. He imagined he could lick her navel if he raised his head. He barely heard her speak.
"Turn over."
The command took moments to register, and he found his body rolling without any commands from his own brain. The cooler air on his hard cock made him stop at a quarter-turn. He stammered for words.
"I can't turn over right now."
"Is something wrong?" She asked.
"I'm fine," he said. "A little too fine, actually."
She took him by the shoulders and rolled him onto his back.
"I see," she said. He couldn't tell if she was annoyed or excited. "Just relax."
She continued the massage on his arms. The embarrassment of her seeing his erection pushing up the sheet made him sweat, and his erection wouldn't drop. She rubbed his fingers, causing them and his cock to twitch. His cock throbbed when she reached his thigh. Her fingers pressed, rubbed, pinched, and squeezed him in ways that pushed him back and forth between deep sleep and orgasm.
He knew she was watching him shudder and ball up the bottom sheet in his fists. He was tempted to lift the lavender mask and watch her watch him, but he wanted to be in her power. He wanted no control over what she had in store for him.
She finished at his head and face. He again felt her warm belly pressing into the top of his head. He wondered if, had he not been wearing the mask, he could see up her shirt. He wondered, as her hands slid down his chest, how close her breasts were to his face. He imagined her athletic body sliding onto the table, surprising him with her nakedness.
He heard her move away from him, her sandaled feet making shuffling sounds on the carpet. She was beside him now. Her thigh brushed his shoulder. She peeled the sheet back.
He was exposed, his cock rigid against his belly. His breath locked in his lungs. He couldn't move. He couldn't speak. He was either going to have a happy ending or be banned from the spa's appointment list.
Her fingers wrapped around his balls. They felt like five miniature tongues lashing around him. One tickled him behind his sack as another dragged up the shaft of his cock.
The orgasm burst from him in four hard shots. He hands slapped down and his back arched from the table. Hit hot come splashed onto his chest and throat. The hardest part was not screaming in pleasure. He was glad he'd remembered to keep quiet.
Her oiled hands lathered his cock with oil and come, squeezing every drop from him before she rubbed her sticky hands up over his stomach and chest.
"Interesting," she said.
He laughed. "To say the least."
"We're done," she said. "I'll leave you to dress and shower, if you'd like."
He heard the door click. He sat up, removed the mask, and then jacked off to another hard orgasm. He didn't see her on the way out. No police were waiting for him. He left her a twenty-dollar tip.
It took him a month to work up the nerve to schedule another appointment with her. He was surprised to find she had an opening, and wondered if his happy ending was a single occurrence. He figured her schedule would be booked solid for months if she treated everyone the same.
He was more nervous than before. He couldn't stop shifting, and he wrestled with the idea of jacking off before she came in, even though he'd already done it twice before driving to the spa and once in the parking lot.
He slid between the sheets as she came into the room. She smiled and said hello. She showed no embarrassment.
"How are you today?" She asked, almost showing no recollection of what had happened last time.
"Fine. Listen, about last time. I don't want you to think I came here expecting the same thing. I mean, I'm fine if it was a one-time thing. It was a wonderful massage even without the happy ending. I mean, I'd love another, don't get me wrong. I don't want you to think I didn't enjoy that part, because I certainly did. Heck, it's probably obvious that I did, isn't it?"
She smiled a Mona Lisa smile and then handed him the lavender mask. He put it on and turned over.
Her hands were more slippery than the last time. They were all over him, pulling out the unnoticed stress in his shoulders and dropping him into that wonderful sleep. He dreamed he was in a harem, with the lovely hands of six ladies pulling at him and working only for his pleasure. He didn't realize he had rolled over until her mouth was on him.
He had never felt anything like it before. Her fingers smeared hot oil over his balls while her mouth seemed to undulate on his cock. Her other hand rubbed his nipple, and he thought she was wearing some sort of bumpy massage glove. He came long and strong. She swallowed it all. He fell asleep, and did not hear her leave. He awoke to find a small Post-It note left on the inside of the door.
"Thank you for the interesting experience."
Two weeks later, he was back between the sheets of the massage table and wearing the lavender mask. He chose to say nothing, even though he wanted to ask her to dinner or if they should stop this for fear of being discovered by the staff. Part of him wanted to ask if she only did this with him, but he chose not to risk the shattering of a great illusion.
She came in, said hello, and then yanked the top sheet off him. A chill ran over his body, but her warm hands and the warm oil rushed blood back to his skin. Her powerful arms sent him into his trance, where he was in an Indian temple with a bejeweled princess dragging a peacock's plume over his back. He floated onto his back and was soon smiling and chuckling as his deep breaths escaped him. Her hands and her tongue were everywhere. They rubbed his belly and licked his nipples. They slithered down his legs like many-headed snakes. They jacked him into her amazing mouth, her tongue seeming to coil around him multiple times.
"You are out of this world," he said.
There was a crash. A bottle broke on the floor, and her hands and mouth jerked away from him. He sat up, pulling off the mask.
