Every time it happened, I was ashamed. I thought that he would be the first and the last of my unprofessional encounters but it seemed that more and more attractive and lonely men found their way into my studio and I was somehow always ready. I fucked two in the first week after Maxwell. One was built like a Greek god, his abs showed through his shirt. I knew what to do with him the moment he walked in. I didn't even charge him for the massage. What was happening to me? Was the stereotype coming true? Was I no more than a glorified sex worker?
The other was a man I had not intended to fuck. He came in, stressed and depressed, blond and blue eyed. His features were beaten down, his brow a constant frown, his nose a chiseled regal rock, but his chin was weak and speckled with unkempt blond facial hair. I was thankful to see that his chest was not bulging with muscles--my only weakness.
His name was Nathan and, when he laid down upon the table, his appeal became apparent to me. I liked to talk with my clients to find the root of the troubles that had balled them up with stress and knotted backs, so I asked him to tell me his story. I wish now that I had not.
"I have a girlfriend," he had said, uncovering the first ounce of my attraction to him: I loved cheating with men, "but we're not exactly on good terms."
I was kneading my fists into his back when he spoke again.
"She is truly beautiful. I don't know why I'm telling you this, but I think I love her."
My hands were at the small of his back, close to the towel that spared me from his ass.
"The only trouble is she refuses to be with me. We've been going together for months but she will hardly ever speak to me, let alone be near me."
I nodded my understanding, knowing that all the while my fingers were slipping beneath the towel.
"I've been trying to end it with her but she doesn't seem to understand. She won't see me."
Whenever I massaged a man, I made it a point to slip through the towel and discreetly see his bare ass. There was something to it that made me wet. Even if it was hairy, gross, and fat I was turned on simply by the notion that the man had no idea I was seeing more of him than he thought. I peeled back Nathan's towel now. His sob story was enough to make me sympathetic, but his ass was more than enough to make me cry. It was smooth and round, perfectly shaped for any woman. I wondered what the other side looked like....
Now I was angry for him. This girl didn't know what she had! I may not have seen the rippling abdominals that made me crazy on his chest but he was cute enough. Besides, the thought of my mouth on that ass was enough to make any girl crazy.
"Do you mind if I remove your towel? Your stress is quite low," I lied.
He consented and I tossed it aside, grabbing fistfuls of his flesh. I massaged him from neck to foot for nearly half an hour, reveling in the feel of his skin and the sadness of his story as he continued to tell it. Before long, I was as hooked on him as I had been on the previous two. I would give him the sex he wanted from his ignorant girl.
With his eyes closed, I let my robe fall away from my body. I was naked, my breasts bare to the room. I closed the blinds that I had installed after Maxwell and I had torn apart my studio. He was restless without my touch. Don't worry, baby, I'm coming back. Oh, yes.
I swung one leg over the table and his waist, careful not to touch him. He gave no notice. So stupid men were when they were the prey. I wondered then if they thought the same of women when they were in control. My fingers found their way into his shoulders, precariously close to his face. I wanted to get closer. I wanted to touch his face, to run my finger along his nose, to look into his eyes, even to kiss him. I usually left kissing for real love, not the sex I sometimes kept at work. Kissing felt real to me, an indication of affection greater than sex. Sex without a kiss was professional, passionate sex happens at eye level.
I let my lips drop onto his back. What did he feel then? My nude body was descending on him whether he sought it or no. My ass was on his, gently rubbing against it as I ground my pelvis against him to gain what little pleasure I could. My breasts were always what they noticed first. They were draped across my current victim like curtains on his shoulder blades.
"That feels good," he said, clearly assuming that this was part of the massage he had bought. Perhaps it was.
I lowered myself onto him, not caring what he thought of my pussy beginning to dampen on his ass.
"Are you naked?" he asked. My hips writhed in pleasure. I loved hearing that question. The surprise, the fear, the anticipation they felt in those three words. I knew that he had been thinking it for a while now, waiting, wondering, his dick growing hard and uncomfortable beneath him. And, oh, how he must want me to say yes.
My lips drew close to his ear, "yes," I whispered, kissing his exposed cheek. He turned his head. I could see the feigned confusion on his face. Men were so dull sometimes. Give in!
"We're both naked."
I propped myself up, "roll over," I said. He complied. An unwilling man would have ran, but there were no unwilling men. He was staring up at me now, our noses touching, his dick hard and pressing against my leg.
"Do you want me?" I asked him, running my fingers through his hair.
"I want you." He made to kiss me but I covered his lips and he kissed my fingers, "No," I said, "I want this."
I remembered my first kiss in the dark hallway behind the gym near the old unused locker rooms. I remembered how I felt in that moment, terrified, sweating, my fingers curling with anticipation and the dedication for one person welling up inside my chest. She wanted nothing from me then. She didn't want to take my panties and thrust her head into my skirt. She only wanted to be with me. It was as close to love as I could get back then.
Her lips tasted fresh and plump. Her lashes tickled my cheek, we didn't know to keep our eyes opened or closed. We didn't know anything. How had I come to this?
My hand went to his dick. It was circumcised, of average length, but thick as a pipe. Everything about him was average. His chest was sprinkled with smooth curly hair, his entire torso was pale compared to his arms and neck as if he worked in the sun all day, his stomach was bulging slightly, but not unattractively so. He was not muscled. He was not built athletically in the least. He was average, boring. I wondered about this girl of his, wondering if she thought so too. I slid down his body and took his dick in my mouth. His eyes were on my cleavage as I rode his shaft with my lips.
My legs tumbled off the back of the bench and my elbows sat upon his thighs. I could feel every ridge of his penis sliding over my tongue, feel it stiffening against the inside of my cheeks. I drew it out, swirling the head of it around like a hard candy, my tongue tickling the crease of his uncircumcised tip. I felt his hips rock forward and the fingernails of my left hand pushed into his leg. My right came to the shaft of his penis, shaking it into my mouth. His hand was in my hair. I could feel him twitching as if ready to cum.
I leapt back onto the table, removing him from my mouth and sat upon his lap. I looked down and saw the lips of my pussy wrapped around the length of his dick and rocked back and forth as if they were the lips of my mouth. I was growing wet. I leaned forward across his body, our lips nearly touched. His hand was on my neck, pulling me closer.
"No," I said, covering his mouth, "that is for love."
I lowered myself to his ear, "you are for sex."
I bit his ear and twisted my body around against his. I could feel his disappointment breathing into my neck as he bit my shoulder and let his finger trace the furrow of my back. I bent at the waist and swung my hips around to face him. They dropped on his face and I could feel his tongue rise to meet me. I gasped from the heat of his mouth inside of me. My lips wrapped around him again and I could feel him growing in my mouth. My body swayed in the breeze of his pleasure, my pussy moving around his face.
I rolled off of him and we laid beside each other on the narrow bench, my hand on his dick and his finger in my mouth. He lifted his blonde head and looked down at me.
"Can I fuck you?"
In an instant I was across his lap, his dick finally inside of me. His hands were on my breasts. They were wrong, it was all wrong. I rode him, this stranger, with those large hands digging into me, unapologetic. My hands were in his hair now, my arms around his head like shackles and he was inside of me and outside of me and all around me and everywhere at once. The room melted around us. Every man I had ever fucked there was with us. There was the athletic Maxwell, my most recent, there was the schoolteacher whose name I had forgotten, there was the boy on his eighteenth birthday, there was my last boyfriend, John, the day we met, the last man I had kissed. They surrounded us, watching us as the towel fell forgotten to the floor and I collapsed against his chest.
My breath was biting into his ear in time to the rhythm of his thrusts. My breasts were jostled like large, fat, quivering helium balloons stuck to the sweating white ceiling while the winds of sex knocked them aside. He was biting my shoulder, his hand creeping along my spine to rest on the smoothness of my ass. Even as my hips rocked like a ship in a stormy sea, his fingers made their way inside of me. His forefinger was up to the first knuckle in my ass. It hurt but I made my cry to be one of pleasure. He spanked me, hard. I could feel a red mark rising on my rear end.
I pulled off of him and sat across his chest, peering down at him over my breasts.
"Is that how you want to play?"
His hand came up and roughly took my breast. I got off the bench and bent over it, sticking my ass into the air. He found my oil on the counter behind us and unleashed it on my backside. I could feel it running down the crease between my legs and then I could feel a pressure. Suddenly my asshole had given way and let his dick through me. The lube had let him pass like a gatekeeper and now he was in my forbidden hole.
At first he went slow and it was still agony. But finally, it set rhythms of pleasure through my body and he stroked faster and deeper, delving inside of me like no man before him I bared my white, sweating breasts to the ceiling and cried out. There were tears in my eyes from the pain and from the pleasure of it. Time seemed to melt together. He fucked me for minutes, maybe ten, but it was all I could remember. My brain had been lost in that room and all I knew was him and the pleasure he had given me.
Without warning he had taken himself out of my ass and spilled his semen across my back. I laid across my own bench, sweating and breathing heavily until he had dressed himself and shown himself out, promising to come again.
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