Em had decided to treat herself to a winter weekend away. Just by herself, somewhere plushly comfortable where she could unwind for a couple of days. She knew of a nice country spa resort a couple of hours away by car, in some pretty mountain country.

It offered the opportunity to relax, some lovely views, and nice warming log fires in the restaurant and club lounge. There was nine-hole golf course, a lake to kayak on, and there were walking tours to nearby scenic spots.

Em wouldn’t be doing any of that. She had her plans firmly fixed on the therapeutic spa for which the place was also famous. She’d looked at the spa menu on line and seen a couple of lovely treatments she might select when she was in residence.

The drive down was pleasant enough, even though on a Friday afternoon and into the lowering sun. It was cooling off by the time she arrived and she was looking forward to checking into her suite and having a nice warming drink while she unpacked the few things she’d brought with her.

The suite was even better than she’d thought it would be, with a nice little gas-fired faux-fire putting on a warming show in the fireplace, a spacious living room with all mod cons, a great bathroom. Em had always been a bathroom girl. It had a nice shady bedroom separated by full-depth screens.

She checked her watch (it was six-thirty) and settled on the sofa with a very large whisky over masses of ice, her favourite poison. She consulted the resort literature gathered from the desk in the office nook where, after unpacking, she had set up her laptop computer.

Golf? No. Kayaking? No. Tramping around the countryside with leeches? Definitely not. These were not Em things at all. She thought she might check out the gym next morning, or walk briskly three times round the compact little golf course if it wasn’t too chill.

But that was next day. She browsed through the spa menu. With it was a discreet little note that simply said guests could choose to have their massage treatments in their suites. That hadn’t been on the website, Em thought with a sudden buzz.

She much preferred a private delight, especially in those parts of the world where masseurs or masseuses were happy to provide very special private delights. She thought about that for a moment, contemplating the recollection of a particularly spectacular in room massage she had enjoyed in Hong Kong some months before.

Her nipples got hard and her pussy moistened with the memory. She’d booked a massage with the hotel’s own spa. The masseur had made it plain to her before he started that if she had any special requirements he would be happy to oblige her. She did; and she recalled with a warm buzz that he had been very obliging indeed. Twice. Em always liked it twice.

However, she reminded herself, that was there and this was here. Such services were generally very difficult to find, especially since no one advertised them.

Em went back to the brochure. It said the spa provided in room massages from two in the afternoon until eleven at night but these had to be two-hour sessions. She looked at her watch. It was seven o’clock. She could get a salad or something yummy delivered to her room now, with a nice little bottle of wine, and book for nine o’clock.

It would be nice to have a massage. Em had been having a trying time lately. Destressing was in order. She rang the spa and booked for nine pm. Her masseur would be Silvio. The cost was horrendous but that night Em didn’t care.

Then she rang the restaurant and ordered a Caesar salad, a half bottle of cabernet merlot and coffee, and asked for the chocolate fudge dessert as well. She would put that in the refrigerator that hid discreetly behind the bar in the corner, with the wine cooler and the state of the art glass cooktop. She might get peckish in the night.

Her meal came and she ate quickly. She rang to have the remains taken away. She could have more wine and coffee later from the supply in the suite. Then, at eight o’clock, Em had a shower with Vic. Vic was her vibrator. He travelled everywhere with her. She stripped herself naked, turned on the water jets, stepped under them, and flicked Vic’s little switch.

He dealt with her in his customary fashion, briefly teasing her pussy lips and hair and then parting them and penetrating her vagina to fuck her with vigour, ejaculating hot water just like cum when his balls were squeezed. Em loved him for that. She always came hotly and shouted loudly to match.

At eight-thirty Em, briefly satisfied, dressed in a sports bra and lycra shorts for her massage and put the lovely thick robe she found in the walk-in wardrobe over them. She poured herself another glass of wine and stood in front of the fire.

At eight-fifty the phone in the room rang. She answered it. It was Silvio, checking that she was still okay with a nine o’clock massage. She was, she told him, and thought that he sounded very nice. She had no expectations, wasn’t contemplating anything other than a straight massage tonight. A very good massage, she was sure of that. But straight, for it was surely that sort of place.

Ambrose hadn’t even twitched when she had called him earlier on somewhere on Planet Earth. She thought it was Paris but it could be Monaco by now. He was on yet another trip in search of a another story. He had simply said, “Very classy.” Ambrose knew these things. She often picked his brains for corporate purposes and he was always happy to provide advice that was always sound.

Em symbolically warmed herself by the fire. Many people in many places would not think the fire was necessary. It wasn’t, really. It was basically symbolic, unless you wanted to lift up the hem of your house robe and warm your ass or your pussy. The room was air-conditioned to a pleasant 22 degrees.

She smiled as she imagined Ambrose there with her and saying to her with his impish grin, which both entranced and enraged her, “That’s 72 on the old Fahrenheit scale.” A monitor on the wall said the outside temperature was already only 10 degrees.

“Yes, Ambrose, that’s 50 on the old scale,” she said to herself. It would not be Em walking weather in the morning until at least elevenses, she thought.

At nine o’clock the buzzer at the entrance door to the suite sounded. She checked the monitor. It looked like someone who might be Silvio who had come to give her a nice straight massage. “Hello, who is this?” Em said to the microphone in the audio grill beside the monitor screen.

“It’s Silvio from the spa, ma’am,” came the response.

She cleared the electronic lock on the door and let him in. He was carrying a suitcase-sized container which she knew held the portable massage bed. He was also carrying a permanent light tan and a nicely trim 100 kilos and a very handsome face, Em thought. And it was topped by gleaming, thick clean black hair, she noticed.

“I’ll set up,” said Silvio. His accent wasn’t quite native. Em thought perhaps it was Spanish. She tried him out, welcoming him in Spanish. He smiled and said, “I’m Brazilian. How is your Portuguese?”

It was Em’s turn to smile, though ruefully. “My Portuguese is so bad it’s non-existent,” she said.

He said, “Well, perhaps I can teach you some Brazilian Portuguese during the massage.”

His big almost black eyes looked straight through her robe, she thought. It gave her a thrill.

“That would be nice,” she said. She was, she thought, using the future imperfect tense.

Silvio smiled again, brightly, and said, “Would you like it by the fire? The massage?”

“Yes,” said Em. “That would be lovely.”

He set up quickly, plumping up the mattress on the bed and opening some jars of massage oil, then said, “Take off your robe and lie face down on the massage bed. You’ve had massages before?”

Em took off the robe and placed it neatly on an arm of the sofa, then moved to the massage bed and lay face down as instructed. Silvio adjusted her limb positions. She felt a slight thrill when he moved her legs slightly more apart than she had placed them.

He commenced the massage. It was superb. His warm hands ran the full length up the inside of her legs, stopping only where her Lycra shorts began, She lay there thinking, “That’s only about five centimetres short of my pussy.” She got a bit hot at that point.

Silvio then attended to her back. He said, “I will unclip your bra so I can massage all of your back.”

Em said, “Yes, okay.”

He unclipped it with practised ease. Em liked a man who knew enough about life not to fumble the essentials.

His back massage style took his hands to her sides and just only the swell of her breasts. Em began to get very hot despite herself, uttering a little moan as he did this.

Silvio bent down and whispered into her ear, “Perhaps with the bra completely off?”

And Em said, “Oh yes, that would be good. I wasn’t sure. I thought I’d get a really straight massage here.”

Silvio whispered again. “You would at the spa. In the room, it is up to the client.”

Em gave out another little moan. Silvio removed her bra, via a brush with her nipples, which were erect and hard. He said, “You have had many massages.”

“Yes,” said Em. “I love massage.”

Silvio said, “That is very obvious. I’m guessing that many of the massages you have had have been naked massages. Am I right?”

His hands were underneath her now, massaging her lower pelvis.

Em said, “Yes.”

Silvio said, “And the naked massages, have they been hot ones?”

Em suddenly became very wet in her lycra shorts. Her nipples got so erect that they pressed little indents into the mattress on the massage bed. “Rather like pebbles on a patch of sand on a beach,” she thought.

She told Silvio, “Yes.”

He withdrew one hand from under her and ran two fingers up the inside of her left leg, up to just inside her Lycra shorts. His other hand slid into the front of her shorts and found the little triangle of hair she kept there. He played with her hair and pushed a finger gently into her pussy.

Em said, “Ohh!”

His finger found her clitoris. Her clitoris liked that very much.

Em said, “Aaah!”

Silvio said, “Would you like it naked tonight?”

Em said, “Oh god yes!”

Silvio placed both hands between her legs, pushed them firmly into her shorts, and pulled them off swiftly.

Em said, “And hot.”

Silvio pushed her legs apart and licked her pussy from behind.

Em said, “Oh god! Oh god! That’s so hot.”

Silvio massaged her again, naked this time. Then he turned her over, licked her pussy from the front, and massaged her naked torso and breasts.

Em came. She made a lot of noise. When she stopped making a lot of noise she was about to say, “I would really like you to fuck me,” but there was no need for her to say this. Silvio was standing naked at the end of the massage bed with his thick, hard cock so ready for her that it was standing vertical against his pubic hair.

She said, “Oh my god!”

Silvio bent down and licked her pussy and then said, “This is for you, sexy woman.”

He threw her legs wide apart, looked with hot passion at her wet pussy and her pinkly open, cock-ready vagina, and thrust his whole huge shaft in.

Em shouted, “Aaah! Oh god! Oh god! Fuck me!”

And Silvio, thrusting firmly, said, “I’m fucking you.” He did this with such force and power that she came again in only seconds. And he followed suit. His rapid cock nearly doubled in size before he shot his cum into her in huge, hot ejaculations that made Em’s whole body sizzle and her nipples buzz and turned the lights pink.

Afterwards, when they had both got their breath back, he said, “Now I’m going to carry you to your bed and fuck you again.”

Em said dreamily, “Oh yes! Please!”