Around two weeks back, I had said to an associate of mine that I was encountering snugness in my neck and shoulders, and general soreness everywhere on my body. I had as of late begun consistently preparing for distance running, with the expectations of competing in a marathon the next year, and keeping in mind that I delighted in the high I got while I was running through lovely parts of the forested areas and around lakes, it regularly left me spent and fantastically stiffed the following day.

“I know the perfect solution to your problem,” my associate, Cersie, had said when I disclosed my problem to her. She gave me a name and number. “Simply call him. He’s a masseuse, and his hands do total marvels.”

I had never had a professional massage, continually being more on the sensitive side of things. Actually, I don’t normally let anybody massage me. I had past relationships with partners who might constantly offer, and I would let them perhaps here and there, yet for the most part I declined on the grounds that I basically felt unusual about having another person touch my body in such a cozy way. This was odd, considering I had no issue with sex or snuggling or kissing, however massage represented a specific danger it appeared to my mind more than whatever else.

Be that as it may, with my sheer zeal to run a marathon, I knew I couldn’t slack off in my preparation and my body was paying the cost having not done much genuine exercise for the dominant part of its life. I went to the choice that I needed to accomplish something on the off chance that I needed to continue running as every now and again as I did, so I called the number when I got back from work.

“Hi?”

“Greetings, John? My name is Christie, and I recently got your number from a friend at work.”

“Goodness, Christie, hello! No doubt, Cersie’s informed me concerning you. How would I be able to improve the situation you found yourself in?”

I quickly pondered what Cersie had discussed about me with this John, and for a moment, I felt somewhat awkward. “No doubt, well, she recently specified that you were a masseuse and I as of late began running which appears to have influenced my muscles to worry, so I was quite recently pondering your rates?” I recoiled at how unbalanced I generally sounded on the telephone.

“Obviously. I charge $150 an hour for a full-body massage, but since you’re Cersie’s friend I can get you in for $70.”

Any unease I had beforehand felt about discussing me with this person vanished, and was quickly supplanted with appreciation. “Truly? That’d be astonishing.”

John chuckled, and I really wanted to take note of how attractive it sounded. “Better believe it, no issue. What’s your accessibility like?”

“I’m booked for the current week, and the greater part of next. Perhaps the Friday after that?”

“The 21st?”

“Better believe it, the 21st would work for me.”

“View yourself as booked.”

I took a full breath. “Is there anything I should think about?  um.. massage, I figure, when all is said in done? I’ve quite recently never had a professional massage.”

“No stresses. I’ll give you the fundamental summary. I work out of a temporary studio in my condo, which is downtown. Every one of the oils and moisturizers I use are characteristic, natural, and the greater part of them are vegan. I worked at a massage facility for around two years previously choosing to change to more independent work, since I needed more flexibility with my timetable to seek after different interests. Well, oh, when you appear at the door, simply ring the doorbell and I’ll come directly down. Possibly you definitely know this, yet at times newcomers don’t understand that full-body massage are frequently done naked. On the off chance that you feel awkward, you can simply keep your clothes on, nonetheless, I don’t prescribe this as you won’t get so much out of the massage. You can likewise demand to be secured with a towel, if that makes a difference.”

I gulped. I realized that I would most likely must be exposed for the massage, and this limit affirmation of that reality activated slight uneasiness. “Right,” I said. “Cool. Cool. Okay, well, I’ll see you on Friday at that point.”

“Okay, Christie. All things considered, it was decent conversing with you. Fill me in as to whether you have any more inquiries.”

“Much obliged, I will. Bye.” I end the call.

Also, now, remaining outside of John’s flat in the sprinkling precipitation, a shudder went through me as I understood I would need to strip bare before a man I had just talked with once. Dread coursed through my veins, however I likewise identified something different, swoon yet there. As terrifying as it might have been, I was additionally somehow eager to take a stab at something so out of my usual range of familiarity.

I rang the doorbell, and a couple of moments later, John opened the door. He was 5’8 or somewhere in the vicinity, with wavy dim dark colored hair and warm darker eyes, with light spots sprinkled over his nose. Physically constructed, yet at the same time thin and not massive.

“Howdy, welcome,” he stated, motioning for me to come inside and tail him up the stairs. “It’s raining quite hard out there, hello?”

“Eh, it’s not all that awful,” I answered. “I sense that in the event that you live in this city, you simply need to get accustomed to it.”

He grinned as he handed the key over the way to his flat. “Sufficiently reasonable.” He opened the door and I looked in from behind him.

It was a sufficiently little place, however extremely open. He had set up a bamboo divider amidst the room, segmenting off a range where he put the massage table and a plate table with different oils and creams. The loft itself was loaded with light, even on such a cloudy day, as there were three nearly floor to roof windows sitting above the road underneath. The bamboo divider sat between the windows and the massage table, obstructing any view from the road.

I strolled in behind him, gazing in amazement toward each path. “Goodness, this place is stunning.”

“Much obliged, I suspect as much as well. I can’t believe I discovered it, and the cost I’m paying for it isn’t too terrible it is possible that.” He indicated an entryway to my right side. “The washroom is simply there, and there’s a towel you can wrap around yourself. Take as much time as you’d like; there’s no need to rush.” He grinned at me, and I swear for a minute I felt my knees debilitate.

He left me toward a little stereo on a seat to one side of the set-up. I exited him to put on some music and ventured into the lavatory.

The bathroom, similar to the the other rooms of the flat, was white and basic, with dazzling quartz ledges and a modern glass shower. A fired humidifier on a cabinet heaved puffs of haze into the air alongside the sweet fragrance of lavender. Looking at the mirror, I took a full breath. ‘Everything will be alright,’ I pondered internally. ‘It’s only a massage.’ I started to strip out of my garments, and, not knowing where to put them, I left them flawlessly next to the sink.

I said to myself that my body wasn’t too terrible all things considered. I had never been on great terms with it, and as a rule want to cover it up and keep my blemishes covered up, yet in the wake of reviewing myself in the mirror, I understood it could be much more awful. My c-cup breast were full and circular, with similarly full nipples jabbing straight out. My waist bended in pleasantly over my hips, and in spite of the fact that my legs were short, they were conditioned. The main thing that could use some work was my ass, which was for all intents and purposes nonexistent. Some past partners particularly loved my “little butt” however to me it just looked horrendously level.

I got the white towel on the towel rack and wrapped it over my chest, at that point opened the door again into John’s room.

John had moved from the stereo to the trey table where he was sorting out the moisturizers and oils. He looked into when he heard the lavatory door open, and motioned with his head toward me to come over and rests on the table. I strolled over energetically, shuddering at the cool air hitting my skin.

I lay level on the table, stomach down and make a beeline for the side so my ear was leaning against the cushioning. John moved from the plate table and came to stand appropriate adjacent to me.

“I’m going to bring down your towel to your waist. Simply let me know whether anything I do makes you awkward or harms or on the off chance that you need to stop whenever,” he stated, discreetly.

I gestured, a bit excessively on edge, making it impossible to talk, and shut my eyes. I felt him pulling the white towel from under me and collapsing it back with the goal that everything down to my lower back was uncovered. Once more, I shuddered.

He laughed. “Chilly, hello?”

“Better believe it,” I mumbled into the table.

“Here, this should warm you go down.”

I heard him rubbing his palms together rapidly, and after that felt joyfully warm oil being sprinkled down my spine. He topped the jug with a *snap* and afterward I felt his hands rubbing the smooth oil over my skin.

He began with my shoulders, using his palms to work the oil in and relax the strained muscles around my neck. It felt like paradise; I could perceive all the reason why Kim prescribed him instantly. He found a beat that tenderly worked my back like waves lapping at the shore, and with each breathe out, I wound up slipping into a more profound and more profound quiet tranquility.

I practically nodded off on that table, and wouldn’t have awoken notwithstanding the littlest mindfulness in the exact back of my mind that his hands were gradually working themselves around my ribcage, closer and nearer to my stripped bosoms. It wasn’t as though he could truly touch them- – they were completely planted face-down on the table- – however his fingers stroked the delicate substance on the sides and I felt a twinge between my legs that I drowsily expelled.

Inevitably his touch left my abdominal area and he began moving further down, ceasing from time to time to straighten out the towel so it secured less and less of my body. Once more, I was to some degree mindful of this, yet the glow from his hands left me pretty much undecided. I moaned, and a lethargic grin spread over my face, at last substance and completely getting a charge out of the massage.

I should have really nodded off this time, in light of the fact that the following thing I recall was feeling strangely horny, albeit still quiet. At that point came the sudden acknowledgment that one of his hands had slipped between my legs and was delicately rubbing my clit in circles. At the same time, I was completely wakeful. For a moment, my uneasiness flared and I needed to battle my inclination to hop up from my lying position, snatch my clothes from the bathroom and run out the door. Instead I took some deep breath and slowly began to focus more on the sensations his fingers were bringing me.

As he kneaded the inside of my legs, the vibrations made my pussy wetter and wetter. Every time he switched from kneading to gliding, I felt him inch just a little closer to the magic spot. I hoped he would continue but worried that he would behave himself and stop just short.

Maybe he really was going to play it safe. His hands then moved from my legs to my lower back and then my sides. I was frustrated that his fingers weren’t inside me but I also loved the feel of him on my sides. My breasts were pushed up against the table but he would linger on the side of each breast as he massaged. At one point, his finger brushed my clit in such a way that it became exposed from underneath the hood and a soft moan escaped my body uncontrollably.

I thought he might not have heard, but a second later he spoke. “Does it feel good?” he asked in a quiet, low tone.

“Mmmm,” was all I was able to reply with

He caressed the lines of my leg until he reached the outside of my pussy. I moaned immediately. He slid a finger inside me from behind and felt my wetness. At first, he was tentative but he quickly settled into a rhythm of fingering that caused me to moan louder and louder. Although I was tight, he managed to fit a second finger into me, much to my delight. Before long he was fingering me fast and hard. Only a minute into this movement, I felt my body shake and release onto his fingers. I surprised myself at how loud I moaned as I did so but hoped that no one in the adjacent rooms could hear me.

I knew my body well enough to know that my cum this time was thick and creamy. He grabbed a towel and wiped his fingers dry, again returning to the professional, clinical role of masseur.

He flipped me over and massaged my front. As he started on my arms, I closed my eyes and began to recover from the hard orgasm. His hands felt nice on my arms and I began to relax again for a while. He touched my breasts underneath the towel, giving them a legitimate massage, staying away from my nipples.
Before long, he moved to the front of my legs and I felt myself craving him once more. I kept my eyes closed, fearing that if I opened them and saw where I was I would chicken out of continuing. The towel had fallen back down to cover my front and I lifted it up again, letting him know I was game for more if he was.

He was game. He grabbed my legs and pulled me to the edge of the table. Getting down on his knees, I felt him spread my pussy wide. Next I felt his lips tasting and exploring my soaking wet pussy. He licked my pussy with long hard strokes, savoring the taste of me.

I felt his lips on my clit and I shuddered at how sensitive it was. He softened his licks and found a gentle licking motion that made me crazy. Still with eyes closed, I lowered my hands and rubbed his head, acknowledging that he shouldn’t stop.

I rocked my hips up and down and uttered the first words I’d said in nearly an hour: a soft whisper of “Yes! Yes!” He continued eating me as my grip on his head grew tighter and tighter. It wasn’t long before I felt myself cum once more, this time even more powerful than the first.

I laid back and finally opened my eyes. He smiled at me and looked at the clock. “Was I right about what you needed?” he asked with a wink.