Chapter 2 The Masseur's Masterstroke

I was beyond ready for this weekend escape after a week that felt like it had dragged on forever. Stepping into the spa, I was instantly enveloped by an atmosphere that seemed to whisper, "Relax." I had booked a massage, craving something to knead away the knots in my muscles and the tension in my mind. The masseur who greeted me was a sight to behold—6 feet 2 of dark, smooth skin, his arms a canvas of sexy tattoos that made my eyes linger a bit too long. I felt a thrill of excitement mixed with my fatigue. I changed into my red thong and matching bra, feeling a bit daring in the privacy of the spa. I lay down on the massage table, its cool leather a stark contrast to my warm body, and waited for the relief to begin. He entered with a calm confidence that filled the room, his deep voice soothing like velvet when he said, "I'm here to help you relax, Martha." He warmed some oil between his hands, the scent of lavender calming my senses. He started at my shoulders, his strong fingers digging into my knotted muscles. I sighed deeply, his touch both professional and tantalizing. His hands moved with purpose, each stroke feeling like it was drawing the tension out of me. "You're very tense here," he remarked, his hands now sliding down my back, tracing the curve of my spine. His touch was firm, yet there was this gentle quality that made my skin tingle with anticipation. As he worked his way down, his fingers brushed the edge of my thong, sending a slight shiver through me. I could feel the heat of his hands, the occasional brush of his tattoos against my skin adding an extra layer of sensation to the massage. In a moment of distraction, my hand brushed against him, and I felt his dick, hard and pressing against his pants. The accidental contact sent a jolt of excitement through me. Surprised and a bit flustered, I decided to push the boundaries a bit further. I reached up and pulled my bra off, letting my breasts free, my nipples already hardening in the cool air of the room. He gave me a sexy smirk, his eyes darkening with desire as he took in the sight of my standing tits with big, erect nipples. Without a word, he moved his hands from my back to my front, his oiled fingers now cupping my breasts. His touch was no longer just about relief; it was about pleasure. He massaged my tits, his thumbs circling my nipples, making me moan softly. Each stroke was deliberate, teasing, pulling at my nipples until they were almost painfully hard. His hands were warm, the oil slick between his fingers and my skin, creating a delicious friction. He kneaded my breasts, his fingers sometimes pinching lightly, sending waves of pleasure straight down to my core. I could feel myself getting wet, the sensation of his hands on my sensitive skin driving me wild. He leaned down close to my ear, his breath hot as he whispered, "You like that, don't you?" His voice was a mix of teasing and dominance that made me shiver with anticipation. I nodded, unable to form words, my body responding to his touch in ways I hadn't expected when I walked into this spa. His smirk grew wider as he continued to play with my breasts, his hands occasionally moving down to brush against my stomach, teasing the edge of my thong, hinting at what might come next. The room filled with the sounds of my soft moans, the slick sounds of his hands moving over my oiled skin, and the heavy, unspoken promise of more. "Do you want to see my pussy?" I asked, my voice breathy and laden with desire, surprising even myself with how forward I was being. Without hesitation, he hooked his fingers into the sides of my red thong and pulled it down, exposing me completely to the warm, lavender-scented air. His eyes locked onto mine for a moment, filled with raw hunger, before he looked down at my now bare pussy. He didn't waste any time. His fingers found my clit, circling it, teasing it with just the right amount of pressure to make my legs start trembling. I gasped, the sensation overwhelming, my body arching off the table as he continued to play with me. Then, he lowered his head, his warm breath on my skin for just a moment before his tongue flicked out, tasting me. He started sucking on my clit, his mouth working with practiced skill, sending shockwaves of pleasure through me. I moaned loudly, my hands gripping the edges of the table, my legs shaking uncontrollably from the intensity of his touch. He alternated between sucking and licking, his tongue exploring every fold, dipping inside me, then returning to my clit with relentless focus. The sounds of him eating me out, the wet noises, my moans, and the rustle of the sheets beneath me filled the room. My body was on fire, each lick and suck pushing me closer to the edge. I was panting, my mind a blur of pleasure, the only thoughts coherent being how good this felt, how right it was to give in to this moment. My legs shook harder, my entire body tensing as I felt the orgasm building, ready to crash over me like a wave. He must have sensed how close I was because he suddenly stood up, his movements urgent. His pants were quickly undone, and he pulled out his huge six-inch dick, already hard and glistening at the tip. Without a word, he positioned himself at my entrance, the anticipation making me even wetter. He pushed inside me, and I gasped at the sudden fullness. His size stretched me, the sensation of him filling me up was intoxicating. He started to fuck me, his thrusts deep and rhythmic, each one hitting just the right spot. The sound of our bodies slapping together mixed with our moans filled the room, the air thick with the scent of sex and lavender. I could feel every inch of him, the veins on his dick adding texture to each thrust. The pleasure was building, but I wanted more control, to feel him in a different way. I pushed him back slightly, and he pulled out, leaving me momentarily empty and wanting. I sat up, my body still buzzing with need, and I guided him to lie down on the table. I climbed on top of him, my legs straddling his hips. Looking down at him, I grabbed his dick, positioning it back at my entrance before I slowly lowered myself onto him. The feeling of him sliding back in from this angle was different, more intense. I began to ride him, my hips moving in circles and then up and down, my breasts bouncing with each movement. I controlled the pace, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, watching his face contort with pleasure. His hands grabbed my hips, helping to guide my movements, his fingers digging into my skin. The room echoed with the sounds of our fucking, my moans growing louder as I got closer to the edge. His dick was hitting all the right places, and I could feel my orgasm building once again. I rode him harder, faster, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Then, I felt his body tense beneath me, his grip on my hips tightening. "I'm gonna cum," he groaned, and I felt the warmth of his release inside me, his dick pulsing as he came. That sensation pushed me over the edge, and I orgasmed with him, my pussy clenching around him, milking every last drop as I rode out my climax. We stayed like that for a moment, both of us panting, the afterglow of our shared release mingling with the lingering scent of lavender oil. I slowly climbed off him, feeling the evidence of our encounter between my legs, both of us sated and momentarily at peace.