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The Masseuse (1/2)

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I can’t assume you know the first thing about me. I can’t assume you know the story of how, on that day many years ago, I came to find myself lying handcuffed to Lisa’s bed wearing just a bra and stockings, covered in my own dried spunk and staring angrily at the ceiling.

The three women who had done this to me – my housemates Lisa and Ellie, and their accomplice Janice – had been gone for hours. I had been mulling over the sordid tale for much of that time, over and over again in my mind, but it really isn’t a tale you need be told to understand what happened next.

Exactly why they had done this, I wasn’t sure. At what point I should have realised I was being manipulated, I really couldn’t say. All I knew was that I was stuck there, alone in the house, unable to move, and that Lisa’s mother would be popping round to visit later that day.

She owned this house, where I had lived for the last three months while attempting to finish my doctorate, though I had not yet met her in person. I could only assume she had a key to the front door.

What a glorious first impression this was going to be.

* * * 
The bra was pinching uncomfortably, and the stockings were making me itch. I was developing a profound appreciation for the discomfort many women go through to appease the patriarchal expectations of men in our society. Call it an education.

My hope that this was all some friendly jape, that they would soon return and untie me and we’d all have a good laugh about it, had died some hours before.

The doorbell rang.

Oh god...

Maybe it was just a salesman, I thought. Double glazing, loft conversions, spiritual salvation. That sort of thing.

I heard the front door open, and a voice called out.

“Hello? Lisa sweetie, are you in?”

I closed my eyes.

Footsteps climbed the stairs and slowly crossed the hall.

“Lisa? Are you in there?”

The handle turned, the door swung open and an attractive middle-aged woman walked gingerly into the room. She stopped dead when she saw me.

The family resemblance to my housemate was obvious, in both her face and her figure. She wasn’t staring at me with quite the degree of horror I had grimly anticipated, but seemed merely disappointed.

“Oh no,” she said, “not again.”

“Hello,” I said, forcing a smile. “I don’t suppose you could undo these handcuffs, could you?”

“Probably not,” said the woman, closing the door. “If I know my daughter then the key is down a drain somewhere. Suckered you in with her smelly pants, did she?”

“Um... yes.”

She tutted, came over to the bed and sat down beside me.

“Well,” she said. “You’re not the first, and I doubt you’ll be the last. What’s your name?”

“Danny,” I said. “I live here. In the next room.”

“Oh yes,” she said. “We’ve talked on the phone, haven’t we. I’m Sandra. I’d shake your hand, but, well.”

I shot her a humourless grin, and realised with some surprise that she was staring at my limp penis. To my absolute shock she then put a hand around it.

“Quite a big boy, aren’t you Danny?” she said, smiling at me and squeezing gently.

I grunted, trying to quell the erection she was expertly eliciting from me. I failed, and soon she was gently stroking my stiff cock with a faraway look in her eyes.

“I used to work in a massage parlour,” she said, distantly. “A real massage parlour, you understand? Not the mucky kind. But there were a few... special customers who got the occasional... extra . You know what I mean?”

“I, er, think so,” I said, nervously.

“I’ve wanked off quite a few men in my time, Danny,” she said, moving her hand more quickly. “I’ve stroked a lot of cock. I’m pretty good at it, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes,” I breathed. “You are. Very good.”

“Oh yes,” she whispered, bringing her face close to mine. “You like that, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I murmured. My eyes closed as an orgasm began to build.

“Oh,” she said, suddenly letting go and standing up. “I think I see the key, after all.”

She went to the dresser, picked something up and came back to me. Glory be! The key! In moments I was out of the handcuffs, and began rubbing some life back into my stinging extremities.

“Why don’t you go and shower,” she said. “Then I think we should have a little talk.”

* * *
The shower felt glorious. I washed myself clean and felt warmth seep back into my aching muscles. I dried off, feeling refreshed but still rather angry, and walked naked across the hall to my room.

I shut the door, closed the curtains, stripped and re-made the bed, then lay down on my back relishing the feeling of being free from my restraints.

There was a knock at the door.

“Are you decent?” came Sandra’s voice.

I moved to cover myself, then realised there was no point.

“Not recently!” I shouted. “But you may as well come in!”

The door opened, and Sandra came in carrying a steaming bowl of water with a small glass bottle floating in it.

“I gave this oil to Lisa for Christmas,” she explained, knocking the door shut with her foot and setting the bowl on my desk.

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“Doesn’t look like she’s ever used it.”

“Oil?”

“Massage oil, of course,” she said, smiling. “It’s the least I can do after what my errant offspring has put you through. Is that OK?”

“Um, yes,” I said, after a moment’s thought. “I’d like that.”

“Lie down on your front,” said Sandra, “and close your eyes. I promise you will feel much better when I’ve finished with you.”

I did as I was told.

There was a quiet rustle of cloth behind me, as of a dress hitting the floor, and a few sounds that might have been a bra and panties following.

“Just a massage?” I asked, swallowing.

“We’ll see.”

Warm oil dribbled onto my skin, spread around by soft hands. Powerful fingers began to knead the muscles in my back and shoulders. I moaned as the long-accumulated tension began to melt out of me.

“Feels good doesn’t it?” she said. “Let me get a better angle.”

She climbed onto the bed and straddled me, her thighs touching mine. I was almost certain she was naked, and I felt my cock begin to stretch down between my legs at the thought of it.

After a few minutes she shuffled down a little to concentrate on my lower back. Then her hands moved lower still, to my buttocks.

“You have a very nice bum, Danny,” she said, giving it a playful slap.

“Thank you,” I murmured.

She rubbed and squeezed my cheeks, parting them and running one teasing finger down my crack. I squirmed with pleasure as she gently circled my anus.

“Ooh, you like that?” she asked softly, pressing her finger a little harder.

“Uh, yeah,” I said, blushing. “A bit.”

Her fingers did not rest there. They traced down still further, stroking ever-so-gently over my balls to elicit a deep sigh of pleasure.

She shuffled down all the way to the foot of the bed, and began working my calves. Her strong hands moved up my left leg, stroking and sliding and pressing all the way up to my bum again. She slid her fingers gently down my inner thigh, teasing my cock with the edge of her hand. Then she did the same with my right leg.

“You’re getting hard,” she observed, giving my dick a playful squeeze. “I think we should do something about that, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Soon, Danny,” she said. “There’s no rush.”

Then her hands were gone. I gave a little whimper at their sudden absence. There was a wet, oily sort of sound, and then a new sensation began on my lower legs, which took me some moments to figure out.

My heart skipped a beat when I realised – she was rubbing her naked, oiled-up breasts over my body. Their soft, heavy weight slid up my legs, over my bum and up my back. Then her whole body was pressed against mine, pushing me down onto the bed. I could feel her pubic hair tickling the base of my spine.

I moaned as her naked body slid over mine, oiled skin on oiled skin. My erection throbbed against the bed, and I ached for her to touch it.

“Turn over, Danny,” she said softly, at last, sitting to one side.

I rolled onto my back, my dick finally free to harden completely, and looked at her. She was, as I had suspected, naked.

Her breasts were large and firm. Dark pink nipples stared at me, erect. Her stomach was toned and flat, and a patch of tight blonde curls nestled between her smooth thighs. She had tied her long hair back in a ponytail, and her eyes smouldered mischievously.

She knelt by my feet, and began working her hands up the front of my legs, keeping her eyes locked on mine. She took her time over my inner thighs, her strokes reaching right up to my crotch and teasing my balls. Then she gave me the body-to-body rub again. I gave a loud, low moan as her tits rubbed against my stiff cock.

In moments her oiled-up hands were expertly massaging my erection. Strokes I’d never dreamed of – twirls and spirals and two-handed techniques – it was like nothing I’d ever experienced.

I reached the verge of orgasm with embarrassing speed. She sensed it, and slowed. Now just a finger and thumb were rolling around my throbbing tip, sending waves of bliss pulsing through my body.

She knelt there with a broad smile on her face, holding me on the threshold of ecstasy with just two digits.

She leaned forward and kissed me on the lips. Her mouth was hot and our tongues touched electrically. Her fingers moved down from the tip of my cock and made a tight circle around the base. She moved her hips forward, over me, and with a low moan she lowered her body and took my hardness inside her.

“Oh god...” she breathed, moving back to sit upright as she began to move in a slow circle. “Your cock feels so fucking good!”

Her pussy rode up and down my cock, her tight wetness massaging me with even more skill than her hands. I began to move my hips, our bodies working as one, as the pace increased.

I didn’t last long – I couldn’t. In less than a minute I was cumming inside her, crying aloud with orgasm as she thrust on relentlessly, her large breasts bouncing hypnotically as wave after wave shot out of me.

She stopped moving when I had finished, holding me within her, breathing heavily.

“Do you feel better?” she asked, softly.

It took me some moments to gather the breath to reply. It had been a powerful orgasm, quite unlike any other I’d experienced. I felt truly satisfied, not merely spent.

“Much,” I said. “That felt...”

Suddenly the door to my room swung open and slammed violently against my desk. A very familiar voice screamed a single word:

Mother!

Published 
Written by henrygatewood
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