"Nice. So Jenny didn't lie about you. You are quite handsome." My newest client was looking up and down my body, almost causing a chill to run up and down my spine. A good chill. A chill that turned me on.
"Marty Cooke. Glad to make your acquaintance." She smiled widely, but her smile had something more mixed in that I couldn't identify.
"Martha Walker. Please come in."
I had to grin for a moment, as I considered everything that had happened the past couple weeks since I had decided to give massages to my neighbors. I had retired to this small community of other retired people almost two years ago, and was facing what many retirees faced -- a limited income.
Most retirees faced this because they didn't save enough money, but I faced a limited budget because the IRS had confiscated all my retirement funds in retribution for my successful efforts at helping people fight the illegal collection practices of the tax agency. The IRS claimed I had stopped it from collecting $22 million in back taxes, penalties, and interest from my clients over the span of two years, but I rebutted that claim with the statement that my clients didn't owe that money at all. I maintained that if my clients had lawfully owed the money, then I could not have stopped the IRS from collecting it.
The IRS' response was to confiscate my retirement as "Illegal gains," knowing that there was no legally-established procedure to stop that process and challenge that confiscation. Had the IRS gone through the legally-established procedures of a bank levy, I could have successfully challenged the IRS and got my money back. I did that regularly with my clients and I knew I could do it for me. But with no procedure to challenge the "illegal gains" confiscation, I was stuck with no retirement.
So, after almost two years of living quietly in the community, I had decided that by performing massages for cash, I could supplement my Social Security and live better without IRS harassment. Hopefully, if things went really well, I could even live comfortably. So I posted brochures in the communal mail room, offering my services with the disclaimer that, while I was not a licensed masseuse in this state, I had more than forty years experience in giving massages to friends and associates. And with no complaints. So I was charging half the going rate for a "professional massage" with a money-back guarantee of satisfaction.
The first week, I had only one customer. But apparently the customer was satisfied enough to talk to her friends, and I had already given three massages the second week and it was only Thursday. And although I had reconciled myself to the agony of massaging the flabby bodies of a lot of old women, the customer I was now facing was a welcome change. She was in her late fifties, slim, and quite attractive.
She offered me a beer while we chatted and got to know each other a little, and I had agreed. Even though I was on the clock, I had no other customer scheduled until the next morning. As I waited for her to get the beers, I looked at myself in the large mirror on the living room wall. I was in my early sixties, divorced, tall with a closely-trimmed beard, and I still weighed the same 220 pounds that I had weighed for the last thirty years. So I was confident that my physical appearance would not be an obstacle to getting customers, and this current customer had even made a comment about that when she answered the door a few minutes earlier.
I finished my beer but saw that she was drinking slowly. I suspected she was taking her time so we could chat longer, so I settled in for some more time on her very comfortable couch. After another five minutes, I stood and smiled at her.
"Thank you for the beer, Martha. You go change into a robe or something comfortable while I setup my massage table over here. Please understand that whatever you wear, I will have a towel to cover you up when you are on my table. And whatever you choose to wear, please bear in mind that I use lots of a really nice massage oil, so make sure it is something you won't mind getting oil all over it. The oil will wash out without a stain, but some people don't like getting oil on what they wear." I smiled my nicest smile and then turned to my folding massage table.
I set up my massage table and spread the sheet over it, careful to remove all the wrinkles. Then I prepared the towel, making sure it was wrinkle-free, too. Finally, I called out that I was ready.
A few seconds later, I heard a noise behind me and turned to my second client of the day. I almost gasped and then smiled at her again.
Martha stood in front of me in a very short robe that was almost but not quite transparent, and it was obvious that she wore nothing under it. I could see her full breasts and very dark nipples through the material, and a very dark and full bush was obvious down below. I cleared my throat to gain the time necessary to collect my thoughts and she was grinning widely at me as I paused.
"Well, Martha, I did suggest for you change into something comfortable..." She grinned a little wider as she interrupted me.
"Well, there is nothing more comfortable than nothing." With that, she removed the robe and laid it over a nearby chair. "Is this my towel?" I hesitated for just a second and then replied to her question.
"Yes. You can lay on your stomach and I will cover you up with that." I watched as she tossed the towel on top of her robe and lay face down. I tried very hard not to notice her nearly flat stomach, hairy pussy, and really fine breasts with large, protruding nipples, but totally failed at it. In fact, I think I actually gulped as she spoke.
"I am not bashful, so we don't need to get your oil all over the towel. Save it for your next client. She stretched out on my table, placing her face in the face hole of the table. A few seconds later she spoke.
"Okay, I am comfortable. Now we can get started. My muscles have really been looking forward to meeting your hands." I looked down at her and noted that her butt cheeks were a little fleshy but the rest of her looked really good. I gulped again and reached for the expensive massage oil. I dribbled the oil on her shoulders and back and proceeded to spread it around with my hands. Trying to sound like a professional, I engaged her in small talk as I worked on her shoulders and neck. When I got to her back, I wondered if I should work on her butt but she spoke up before I could ask.
"Make sure you get my butt really good. I sit a lot and my gluteus muscles feel really tight." I was surprised that she knew the name of her butt muscles, but I was even more surprised that she wanted me to massage them. I was not a professional so I didn't know if her request was the norm, but all my massages until my new "business" involved women that wore either a bathing suit or at least underwear, and none of them involved me massaging their butts. Still, I was there to serve the customer, so I just grinned as I dribbled oil on her ass.
And I had to admit, massaging her ass was really fun. In fact, I began to feel a little turned on as my fingers worked on her glutes. And the more time I spent on her ass, the more she moaned and the more I felt my cock get hard. Even when the women on my table wore only underwear, I had no problem with a hard-on. Not until I was massaging a naked ass.
I always wore sweat pants and a tee shirt when I give a massage and I realized now that sweats would offer no control over a hard cock. I considered what that would mean as I continued massaging her butt.
"How is that, Martha? Does that feel good?" As soon as I asked the question, I regretted the wording. I heard her moan before she answered.
"Yes, that feels good, but maybe you need to spend some more time there. Like I said, I sit around a lot every day, between my computer and the TV, and my muscles could really use some more work." I thought I heard her chuckle quietly as she looked back over her shoulders and pointed to her butt muscles, but I wasn't sure. So I worked on her butt muscles some more, using my fingers to probe more deeply into her muscles. This time her moans were louder.
As requested, I spent a few more minutes on her ass, and then I moved down to her legs. I started with her feet and I heard more moans. I expected that because a foot massage was always the most appreciated by most people, and I spent a few extra minutes kneading her foot muscles. I noticed she spread her legs slightly as I worked on first one foot and then the other. I spent several minutes on each foot and watched as she spread her legs a little more with each minute. I found myself looking at what became a very exposed pussy, enjoying the show she was putting on. I moved up to her calf muscles, first one and then the other, wondering just how far she wanted me to go. She removed my concerns as I moved up to her thighs.
"And you will need to get my thighs pretty well, too. I worked on my lawn yesterday and my legs ache from the work." I grinned at the back of her head.
"Yes, ma'am. I will do a good job on them." My grin widened as she moved her legs further apart. I found myself looking more carefully at her pussy lips as they peeked through her bush. I slowly worked up her thighs until I was close to her pussy, her moans getting louder by the minute.
"Could you get just a little higher without embarrassing yourself? My muscles really need your hands right now." I chuckled quietly as I replied.
"Well, ma'am, I don't embarrass easily." She almost giggled.
"Good. I am glad because I tip based on how good you make me feel." I had to grin at what I saw as an invitation.
"Well, then, I guess I need to make you feel really good." Her response was a loud moan. I worked my way to the top of her thigh, just half an inch from her exposed pussy. Then I "accidentally" brushed her lips to see her response. Her moan was really pronounced and lasted a couple of seconds. Then I moved to her other leg and her response was more of a groan. I decided that I would find out if that was a groan of disappointment.
I spent a lot of time on her second leg, slowly working my way up the muscles. Again, I massaged up to about half an inch from her pussy and then brushed against her pussy. She moaned loudly again, and then groaned when I stopped. I had to chuckle.
"Don't worry, Martha. I am not finished. Now I need you to roll over onto your back." I watched as she carefully rolled over, clearly unsure how sturdy the massage table was. Then, as she lay back, she looked at me and smiled, having noticed how my eyes had ranged from her boobs to her pussy and back.
"I hope you aren't grossed out by hair." The look on her face showed real concern for a moment, and I smiled in response.
"No, I actually like hair. I think it is beautiful. Besides, I never saw the need to try to improve over what God intended." She reached down and ran her fingers through that luxuriant bush and I had to smile at her action.
