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Butterflies filled my stomach as I sat in the waiting room. I shouldn’t be here, I wondered. I had only booked the appointment because a friend gifted me a free session and it seemed impolite to say no. A massage felt too risqué, too much like the way I wanted men to caress me in the bedroom. And worse, this was a full-body massage. What did that mean exactly? Was I gonna have to be naked? Sitting there, all I could think about was how embarrassing it would be to get turned on in front of a stranger.

Just as I was considering leaving, the lobby door opened and a voice called my name. I stood up with a jolt. A tall guy in casual wear was beckoning me to come to the back with him. He had a friendly smile, and I took in his tousled hair and bright blue eyes with a nervous twinge. Why didn’t I request a female therapist? Was that even an option? We walked down a short hallway and he introduced himself; his name was Nick and he would be taking care of me today.

I followed him, fighting to control my shortness of breath and the flush creeping across my chest. We made small talk about the Chiefs game and he explained the procedure to me. He would step outside the door, and when I was ready I would call him in. As he explained, most people went nude, but keeping my clothes on was also an option. He handed me a thin white sheet to cover my lower half.

The door shut. My heart was beating quickly. I would either be stripping naked, then and there, or making up some excuse and leaving. Before I knew it, I was pulling my t-shirt over my head. I paused to glance over my body. I have what you might call generous proportions, with an ass-to-waist ratio that turns heads and full, pear-shaped breasts. Clutching my shirt, I felt typically self-conscious. I never flaunt my body, in no small part because I can not stand the way people sneak glances at me.

In a cold sweat, I pulled my bra off and allowed my tits to drop down. No time to worry now. I wiggled out of my jeans and lay face-down on the massage table, draping a towel draped over my bottom half. I craned my neck around. The folded towel covered me completely, but it did a poor job of concealing my Pixar mom ass.

The door opened again and I twisted back into position, arms folded in front of my head. The therapist asked if I was ready to start. I imagined his eyes running over my naked body. I knew he would see the sides of my breasts and the towel draped in an arch over my butt. I drew a breath carefully and told him I was ready.

He moved beside me and dipped his hands in oil. Starting with my shoulders, he rubbed his hands along my skin in a flowing motion. The rubbing was more forceful than I expected. Every spot he touched caused a little tension to release, and soon a warm sensation began to spread along my spine. By the time he reached my lower back, the warmth was spreading all over. I exhaled a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding in.

He paused and asked if I was alright. Please keep going, I responded, surprising myself with how breathy and submissive I sounded. Not without guilt, I savored the feeling of my hardening nipples pushing into the table. A tingling sensation danced on my clit. So what if I was a little horny? My body was just having a natural reaction to stimulation.

With a begin, I realized my back was arched. If I wasn’t covered by the towel, I would have been presenting him with my swelling pussy. (I know from experience that few men are able to withstand this particular move of mine.) Mustering what little mental strength I had left, I pushed my hips down so they rested flatly on the table. As I readjusted, I could feel how wet my pussy lips were as they rubbed together. There had been no opinion from the therapist, who was still working my lower back with satisfying firmness.

Then, in a completely casual voice, he asked if I wanted him to massage my glutes. I froze for a moment, and said yes without thinking. Would I like him to leave the towel on, or take it off? Butterflies in my stomach again. I was worried I had actually started dripping onto the table. Do whatever you normally do, was my response. Without a word, he pulled the towel down, so that everything but the very bottom of my ass was exposed.

His hands were moving now from my lower back onto my butt. I squeezed my legs together, hoping he didn’t notice the growing wetness. The pressure was building to a dangerous level. As I focused on keeping my hips flat, I felt a void opening inside me, the deep ache of a pussy craving internal stimulation. I thought what I would do if he made a move on me. In all probability, I wouldn’t be able to withstand. I felt like I was in heat.

His hands were inches away from my junk. Was he enjoying this? Lots of men get obsessed with my ass, so why would a masseur be any different? I began to relax my thighs involuntarily as his hands worked over my glute muscles in powerful strokes. When my legs opened, I felt the cold air of the room against the wetness of my pussy. My hands grabbed at the plush material of the table.

Then, his hands moved down to my left thigh and my brain gave up. My hips rose back off the table. Everything was tensing up. My leg muscles flexed in his grip. In that moment I was beyond caring. I was gonna have an orgasm, and in about five seconds nothing either of us could do would stop it. An intense sensation was clamping down on my abdomen and in response I flexed my muscles and ground my swollen clit into the table. His hands came off my thigh, but it was too late. The throbbing reached its unbearable peak—and released. I gripped the table harder and growled as my warm pussy clenched repeatedly in carnal satisfaction. When the pleasure subsided, I melted into the table, totally relaxed.

Through the warm haze, I turned my head to look at the therapist, who was still standing over me. The hungry look in his eyes made it clear that he knew exactly what had happened. A bulge had appeared in his shorts. As if nothing was different, he asked me to turn over. I obliged immediately, maintaining eye contact as I twisted around and presented him with my hard nipples. Again folding my hands above my head, I looked at him with burning cheeks, daring him to make a move. His eyes flicked over my body, no doubt taking in my blushing figure still glistening with oil.

He moved his hands over me again, this time with urgent efficiency. He massaged the outside of my breasts, causing me to gasp, and slowly worked his way down the lines of my hips. Soon, he was circling my vulva with the tips of his fingers. He bent down and started kissing me just as he slipped two fingers inside. I reached one hand blindly up his shorts and felt the outline his cock. I moaned when I felt how thick it was; it had to be as big around as my wrist.

I couldn’t wait any longer. In a whisper, I told him the truth: I needed him inside me immediately. No questions asked, he pulled off his shorts and t-shirt and climbed on top of my panting frame, still kissing me passionately on my face and neck. I looked down and saw his huge dick hanging there, twitching in anticipation. He looked into my eyes and rubbed it across my dripping slit. Now he was gripping the edges of the table. I glanced at the door. What if someone came in? We were gonna have to be quiet. Then, with a grunt, he slid inside. I wrapped my limbs around him, flexing my muscles in an ill-conceived attempt to keep from moaning. It felt so satisfying to be stretched by a big penis.

My embrace only caused him to pound me harder. The table was shaking with the impact of his thrusts. I strained desperately to hear if anyone was outside the door. Then, I looked down again and stopped caring. The sight of his gigantic member entering me drove away whatever modesty I had left. I moaned in his ear and begged him to empty his big cock. The look in his eyes told me he was ready. He put a hand around my neck and pounded my pussy into the table a few more times. For a second, I felt a pang of fright that he was gonna cum inside me, but at the last second he pulled out. I wrapped both my hands around his dick as he groaned and pumped his cum onto my stomach and heaving breasts. He even managed to get some on my face.

We collapsed on the table together. After making out a bit more, he dragged himself up and offered me a fresh towel. We cleaned up as fast as we could, and five minutes later we were back in the lobby. I added him on my phone, and turned to leave. As I passed the front desk, I glanced at the receptionist to see if she had heard anything. Based on the embarrassed look on her face, I think she did. I haven’t mustered the courage to go back since.

NSFW: yes

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