Because of that stupid virus, the governor's stay-at-home order closed down my favorite massage business. I had been going there once a week for a few months, and I didn't want to stop. My favorite masseuse, Miguel, gave me his cell number at my last appointment before the shutdown. He said he would be happy to do in-home massages on the side, as long as I kept things quiet. He also said that I would have to supply the table and oils, since his employer could not sanction those visits at all.
As soon as I got home, I went online and ordered a deluxe massage table and a variety of oils and towels, with rush shipping so they would arrive quickly. I then called Miguel and scheduled a massage for the following Wednesday.
I rushed into my husband's "office" (a spare bedroom with a desk). "Honey, I have great news! My masseuse has agreed to do in-home massages for me starting next week! You know how horny I am when I get home from a massage. It always leads to some x-rated fun for us."
He smiled from ear-to-ear. "That's awesome honey! I kinda want to see what goes on in these massages that gets you so riled up. Are you sure there's no funny business?"
"Nonsense," I said, "this is a legitimate business with certified staff. Their job is to relax the body and use their healing touch to rejuvenate it. I feel so relaxed and so tingly all over, that an additional benefit is that when I get home all I want to do is fuck -- you and only you. You have to admit, you've gotten as much out of these massages as I have."
"Maybe more," he laughed. "OK, I can't wait to see this in action."
The following Wednesday, Miguel arrived promptly at 11 am. My husband, Anthony, was shocked to see that my masseuse was a male. Oops -- I may have left that part out. He was immediately suspicious, and he started asking Miguel a lot of questions. Miguel was patient and kind, responding as best he could in his broken English.
A little about Miguel... he is the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. He has a thin mustache and spiked jet-black hair to go with his dark complexion. He mostly speaks Spanish, but his English is not bad. He understands most of what I say. He has strong arms and broad shoulders. His weight is perfect for his body type. His touch is, well, enough to get this woman hot and bothered every single time.
Finally, my husband backed off a little, and I said, "Let's get started." I had set up the table in the living room. Much to my husband's dismay, I had already closed the drapes and turned off the lights. I lit a few candles and turned on a soft music playlist on Spotify. My husband still looked tense. I kissed him and whispered in his ear, "This is all about relaxation. It has nothing to do with sex or sensuality, until we're alone after Miguel leaves. Then it is about no-holds-barred passion." I winked at him and sat him down in a chair in the family room.
I asked Miguel to go into the kitchen and told him I would call him when I was ready. I stood in the living room, in full view of my husband, and took off my clothes. "Jesus -- you're naked for this?" he exclaimed. I assured him that important parts always stay covered with towels, and that the masseuse needs to touch every other part of the body directly to do a proper massage. I laid face-down on the table and placed a towel over my butt. I called out to Miguel that I was ready.
Miguel got started right away. He poured some oil on my back and shoulders. As always, he was very thorough, working the tension out of the upper part of my body, including my arms. As he moved down to my glutes, he shifted the towel to uncover my left butt cheek. It still covered the crack of my ass and my other private areas. My husband jumped out of his chair and came over closer to watch.
Miguel rubbed the outside of my butt and leg, working his way down slowly to my ankles. He then used very long strokes up and down my left side. This was one of my favorite parts, and he knew it. I moaned as he repeated these long strokes. Each time, he would brush my side boob and rub deeply into the tissues of my exposed butt cheek. I said, "Mmmm, that always feels so good, Miguel." "Muchas gracias, senora," he replied.
My husband was still a little put out, but he finally walked away to give us some space. As he walked towards the bathroom, Miguel started kneading my left thigh. His hands probed deeper between my inner thighs with each rub. I spread my legs a little, and soon his hand was slightly touching the edge of my pussy. I whispered, "More, please." He obliged, taking the opportunity with my husband out of the room to quickly glide a finger along the folds of my pussy, causing me to instantly get wet. Again, I moaned, and lifted my hips slightly off the table to give more access to his probing fingers.
As we heard my husband returning, Miguel shifted the towel to the other side, and moved to repeat the process on the right side of my body. I made sure to moan when Miguel's touch was far away from my private areas. I knew my husband would look up, see that nothing "extra" was happening, and then lose interest. Whenever Miguel "accidently" brushed my breast or pussy, I tried my best to stifle my moans.
Soon it was time to turn over, and Miguel held up a towel and looked away as I rolled onto my back. I grabbed a towel to place over my breasts and Miguel placed his towel between my legs. He spent another half hour massaging my scalp, shoulders, stomach, legs, and feet. Miguel was all business on this side, knowing my husband was watching closely.