Your erotic stories

Too many erotic stories. Erotic stories free to watch. Only the best porn stories and sex stories

First Massage for Mrs. ‘M’

Category: Mature
BadFairGoodInterestingSuper Total 0 votes

It was the third week in August and a Wednesday, the slowest day of the week at our mountain resort-retreat and the bosses only day off. It was even slower because a Faith Bible Church group had booked the entire resort, and they weren’t doing any extras. They had meetings in the morning, then broke up for sightseeing and shopping trips. Almost no one came in to the Spa for massages and facials, though a few had manicures and pedicures in the Gallery area.

I was re-stocking the massage room with towels when I became aware of an argument between a husband and wife. They couldn’t see past the bushes to the open frosted window, so I heard almost every word. The wife didn’t want to see some Civil War battlefield with her husband, and didn’t care to spend any more time with the other wives, either. She said she would read in her room, but her husband thought that would look bad. That set the woman off on a harangue about appearances and living other people’s lives, at the end of which she said that maybe she would get a massage. The husband thought she was joking, but she opened the door, said she was serious and told him that she’d see him at 5 to get ready for dinner. He protested to a closed door for a second, then walked away mumbling.

I tried to look like I hadn’t heard a word, and smiled when the woman looked at me and asked if I could fit in a massage. She was a nice looking, conservatively-dressed brunette, probably in her late Thirties.

“I’ve never had a massage in my life, but I think I need one right now.”

“Well…” I responded, but that’s the only word I got out.

“Please, I need a massage. I’ll take any time.”

She was pleading with me, and I saw her eyes water a little

“Okay. I can fit you in right now. May I ask your name?”

“Arlene M____________________. I’m with the Faith Bible Church group.”

“Okay, Arlene. There’s a robe in the dressing room. I’ll prepare the table. Come out when you’re ready.”

I put a “No Entry” sign on the door and locked it. A minute later, Arlene called out, asking about the cost. I told her that Wednesday’s were normally slow, and that we had a half-price special. Arlene practically bounded out of the dressing area, she was so happy to hear that news. She began chirping away in excitement, excused herself for babbling, for being nervous, and then asked if it was okay to leave her underwear on for modesty.

It was. I asked her to lie on the table face up and proceeded with a basic head, neck and scalp massage. Arlene enjoyed the touch and kept talking, perhaps out of nervousness. I heard more than I needed to about her dissatisfaction with the church, what a scandal it would cause if anyone knew a man had massaged her, general husband problems, etc. Eventually she wound down, talking less and less, but making more and more “Mmm” sounds. She was really enjoying it.

I took extra time with the head and neck massage, then began on Arlene’s feet. She was extra sensitive there, and stretched a little or jumped each time I hit a pleasurable spot. I put a creme on my hands and continued, delighting in the sensations it was causing her. I rubbed each toe individually, each millimeter of flesh a dozen times. I had nothing to do and it was slow, slow, slow, so why not? I was liking this attractive and friendly woman, and the “Mmmm unnnh” sounds she was making were a turn-on.

At the thirty minute mark I asked Arlene to turn and lie on her stomach so that I could do her back.

“You’ll have to take undo your bra and take off the robe, but I’ll cover you with these towels. She sat up, turned away from me and reached behind her to unsnap her white brassiere, then lay down with her hands tightly at her sides. I pulled her robe down to cover the bottom half of her body, put a towel over the robe, then removed only the robe, leaving just a folded towel from the small of her back to the back of her knee.

I began working on Arlene’s back and neck. She loved every touch, and arched her back or made sounds of pleasure at the finish of each stroke. I worked up, down, back, across and repeated each move in reverse. She was especially receptive to my massage of the lower back area, and I palmed the area just above the band of her plain white panties in slow circles for a good five minutes.

When finished with Arlene’s back I began working her ankle and calf on the right leg. She jumped at my touch on several occasions, and continued making “Mmm-mmm” sounds and another one that sounded more like Umm-nnnhhh”. It’s hard to translate sounds into writing, but it translated easily into a hard-on for me. I spread her legs a little and worked each calf lovingly. When I moved on to the area behind her knees, she seemed ticklish. She didn’t tell me to stop, though, so I continued. I pulled up the towel and gently spread Arlene’s legs a little more to work on the area just above her knees. The skin was smooth and soft, with just a trace of veining. I noted the remnants of muscular development and definition, thinking that this would have been a very pretty leg ten or twenty years ago. It was still attractive now. Moving higher, I noted the minute lines, dimpling and fine hairs that give any leg character. When I was in my teens just the sight of this area of a woman’s body would have made me hard.

I worked higher still on the leg, noting how Arlene’s hand clenched and unclenched. This was thigh and inner thigh, area not exposed to strangers, much less felt by them. I was feeling it, though, and Arlene had no apparent objections. She was breathing rather hard, though, which I took to be a good sign.

My hands were now under the towel and I circled Arlene’s thigh with both hands and continued a circular motion. Arlene almost stopped breathing as the back of my fingers brushed against the cotton of her pantie crotch once, then twice before my hands descended and I began work on the other leg. I was trying to be professional, but I could now see white cotton pantie crotch and a spot of moisture dead center. It wasn’t normal to touch a woman’s labia when massaging her, but she didn’t know it. She was just going along because she thought this was what the Rest Of The World was used to.

I began working on Arlene’s left leg, taking my time. Each square inch of flesh got its due. It was hard not to rush, hard not to give a perfunctory massage to the lower leg, then begin working on the sensitive thigh, but I didn’t. My reward was an extra, involuntary spread of the legs when I got above the knee. It was an unconscious move, but subliminally, I knew it meant Arlene was ready for more. I was not her lover, but her body didn’t know it.

“I’m enjoying this so much. Why did I never get a massage before?” Arlene murmured.

I didn’t answer. I worked higher on the left leg, halfway between knee and rear. I peeked at Arlene’s panties and noted the spot in the center of her pantie crotch had grown. She was definitely getting wet. I sniffed the air slowly, hoping for that beautiful scent of a woman, but it eluded me

What did not elude me was the sound of animal pleasure as my hands worked higher on the soft thigh before me. Each time I reached new heights, I heard a quick intake of breath and saw a tightening of the butt muscles. By the time I reached the softest portion of thigh— where it meets the derriere—I was hearing what could only be called whimpers of pleasure. Arlene was in heat. She probably hadn’t been teased and touched this way in years—if ever. I began a slow circular movement with my hands that once again brought the back of my index finger in touch with the crotch of this sweet and needy woman. She clenched her muscles as my hands went back and forth across the soft protrusion of her damp panties, pushing herself back daintily against the too-light pressure of my fingertips. It was only a movement of an inch at most, but she moved. Not only did she not mind my light and intimate massage, she wanted more! I smiled to myself and stopped.

I heard a loud sigh as I asked Arlene to turn back over and let me work on her chest area. I held a folded towel discreetly over her in order to cover her breasts, then began a gentle massage of her stomach, sides and the area above her breasts, working from one side of the table, then another.

At this point, I regretfully informed Arlene that her hour was up, but that we could do a Two Hour “Swedish” or “Full French” if she wanted. She asked the time, then asked about the difference between the two. I explained that more oil was used in the “French” than the “Swedish”, that more private portions of the body were worked on and both involved nudity. Arlene thought for a second.

“I’ll probably never do this again. Might as well go for it all. My husband won’t be back for hours.”

The Full French then?

“Unless you think the Swedish is better.”

“No. The French. By all means. You do unernatand the nudity and touching part. It’s very intimate.”

“Whatever others get is fine by me.”

I smiled in agreement and began by applying a cool masque to Arlene’s face and eyelids. Once her eyes were closed I removed the towel from her breasts and and began applying a warm crème from the warming drawer across her chest and breasts. She was a “B” or “C” cup and she had dark areola with small erect nipples. I took my time with the massage, being as professional as possible, working every area of the stomach and chest, but still taking a few extra moments or two to tease the nipples. I heard Arlene’s moans grow louder and watched as she lifted herself slightly each time a nipple wedged between my moving fingers for a prolonged touch. She was hot! This was one aroused lady. What would her bible study group say if they could see her now!

I put a special soft paper over the chest area to protect the applied areas and asked Arlene turn over. Then I removed the towel covering her rear and feasted my eyes on the womanly ass in panties before me, the legbands creasing the fullness slightly where thigh met buttock, the overall roundness. And though I enjoy the sight of a woman’s butt in panties, they had to come off.

“Lift please” I asked as I took the sides of Arlene’s panties in my hand. She paused only briefly before lifting her midsection to allow me to slip her panties off.

This was a moment to treasure. In one moment I could see two full labia partially covered by wet dark hair, a thin strand of secretion from her pussy clinging to the inside pantie crotch and two pale ass cheeks defined by the lines of her no-doubt modest bathing suit. What a treat!

I resumed my massage, beginning at the neck and moving slowly down. I applied the hot crème liberally, getting oohs and ahhs as I worked in the sweet scented lotion across the back and sides. This time as I reached the buttocks I did not stop. Each pale pink round cheek was liberally coated and massaged for 5 minutes. Arlene’s star shaped anus was clearly visible at the end of a trail of small dark hairs that led to her glistening vagina. Each woman was different here, too. I had time to absorb the details as I lovingly stroked both cheeks, sometimes trailing a fingertip lightly across her sensitive anus innocently, just to see her clench her rear.

As I moved down, my hands brushed Arlene’s labia, causing her to gasp and push into the table involuntarily. This was one more slice of heaven, and Arlene twitched as I massaged near her outer labia en route South. I would come back to that area, but in good time.

The thighs, sweet as they are, couldn’t hold my interest long, but it was a mistake to give them short shrift, and the longer I took, the sweeter the ultimate release—-if there was to be one.

Thighs, knees, and right calf were each massaged, then finally the ankle and foot again, with extra crème being allocated to the sole, toes and ankle. When this was done, I pulled out the stirrups at the bottom of the table and gently asked Arlene to turn, scoot down and place her feet in the stirrups of our deluxe table. She did as I asked, murmuring “I had no idea”.

I smiled and continued my massage on the left foot and began working up. I confess to doing mediocre work, for as soon as Arlene settled back down on the table, I fixed my eyes on her dark pubic hair and the pink and womanly lips that divided it. I worked the calf in a fog and gave scant attention to the knee as I closed in on the prize pussy before me. The soft thigh got a little more attention as I slowed my pace. I could clearly smell Arlene’s sweet pussy now, and I could see a thin trail of liquid from her vagina down towards her puckered anus. Pulling over the stool, I spun it to give me a little extra height and began the most pleasurable part of my work. Each hand now massaged a side of the vagina before me, caressing closer and closer to the swolen labia, the two engorged sentinels to the lighter pink folds of her insides. Arlene jerked as my thumbs pulled her labia apart, revealing her moist and delicate inner lips. I began a massaging action with the index fingers and thumbs of each hand that trapped the pearl-like clitoris, and sensed an orgasm was near. Mere seconds later, Arlene, conservatively dressed Arlene, a woman who probably never swore, a woman who rarely wore shorts and was never seen in a bathing suit outside a close circle of friends; who probably sat in the front of her church on Sundays, was coming. Her vagina gaped wetly open before me and she began a quick humping motion accompanied by a muffled scream of pleasure as I delicately massaged her clitoral fold with my fingers. Her orgasm lasted at least twenty seconds, and she came up off the table before settling back down. I rested my fingers and thumbs for a minute and patted her gushing vagina with a cloth, then resumed a massage of her inner thighs and pussy. The area was all wet now, but that made it easier almost, and before long an amazed Arlene was building towards a second orgasm as I once again teased the area around her clitoris gently, closing in on the little wet bud with a tickling motion of my fingertips. Arlene arched her back and raised that dark hairy pubic mound off the table in a series of sweet huffing, puffing unnh…..unnnh…..ununhh noises and she came again, trembling, with a loud Ohh—aahhhh—UNNNNHHHH!

There was time for a brief rest, and I used that time to caress the legs extending before me. Hands reached out to caress my hair, and sweet words of thanks filled my ears. I kissed a thigh without thinking, and felt Arlene jump. There was more passion in her, apparently. I kissed the other thigh, and got a similar reaction. I kissed higher up on the leg, close to that sweet pussy, and saw a smiling Arlene raise her head and look at me pleadingly. I kissed once more very slowly, her eyes meeting mine, this time in the wet hair right next to those sweet lips. A smile and pressure on the back of my head told me everything: Please kiss me again…It’s okay if you kiss my pussy!

The mmmm’s and the unnnnhhhss started all over as I began to lick and suck her tender labia, lingering over the sweetest and most delicate parts, before teasing her shiny clitoris with my tongue. It was a thrill to watch her raise yet again to meet my oral caresses, to know the passion that she was feeling. Rising had the effect of exposing her anus to me once again, so I gripped one ass cheek with my hand and caressed that star-shaped spot lightly with one thumb. Either my tongue or my thumb was having the desired effect, for I heard the loudest moans yet and Arlene started bucking in her stirrups. Thinking the end might be near, I pushed my thumb lightly into Arlene’s anus, and began sucking on her clitoris in earnest. That did it. Arlenes legs came out of the stirrups and locked around my head tightly. She wanted to lock me to her pussy, to fasten my lips to her sex.

Whatever sensations she was feeling now grew to overwhelming proportions as she began bucking and jumping for what seemed like thirty seconds. I tried to hold her down, to breathe and simultaneously suck her clitoris, a difficult task, but I succeeded. Her breath came in gasps between another series of unnhhhhs and ohhhhhs and I could feel spasms rip through her via my slightly inserted thumb in her rear. Gradually her body lowered back to earth and the massage table.

I didn’t know what the right thing to say at that moment was, so I said nothing and continued to lick and very lightly kiss the area around the shiny wet vagina before me. In time Arlene began speaking in whispers, telling me that what happened was the most intense hour in her life. I smiled, kissed her hand and said “For me, too.”

Arlene rested another minute or so, then I spent a few minutes cleaning her. That done, she rose, put on her robe, gave me a hug and changed. I got another hug after she changed, then off she went to her room, but not before giving me a hundred dollar bill and a kiss—on the cheek, which was ironic. Now a hundred dollars may not seem like a lot of money, but it was to me. After all, I was just an older looking college kid with a summer job in the resort’s laundry department, whose duties included stocking the Spa with towels!

Leave a Reply* Marked items are required