Her story of a bed Massage part 2 of 3

Her story of a bed Massage part 2 of 3

They were dark blue, lacy, hipster shorts, cut acutely across each cheek of my bum.

I didn't reply, I had no idea what to say.

"Very pretty, very nice," he said as I felt his fingers run over them sending my arousal level up a few degrees.

Nothing happened for a moment or two. I simply lay there as Ben, presumably, simply stared at my bum. That excited me. It played to my latent sense of exhibitionism that had come to the fore when my ex had taken 'glamour' photos of me. I may even have slightly wiggled my bottom a little.

"Very nice and very sexy" he went on quietly, resting a hand right on my cheek. That excited me even more, but nowhere near as much as his next words did. "But also, very unnecessary."

He didn't ask, he simply assumed and took over; that also excited me.

"Lift up a little," he said quietly as he slid his fingers into the waistband. "We don't want to get oil on them, do we?"

"Fuck he's taking my panties off," I thought as I did as he asked and lifted myself up. And that is exactly what he did, took my knickers off. It was an amazing feeling to be lying there on that mattress, my eyes closed, the room dim with soothing, classical music playing as this older man, kneeling beside me his bare leg, pressing against mine slid my panties down my legs. I knew that he must have seen all my bottom and probably my pussy to from between the backs of my slightly parted thighs, which I closed.
I knew then, that with that most erotic of gestures that this was not going to be a straight massage. And from then on it wasn't. His touch became softer, more of a caress than a massage, he went nearer to my more intimate places, and his body, mainly his knees, and legs, came into more frequent contact with mine.

I had expected that when 'the action' started I would be nervous and be torn as to whether I would really go through with it and do whatever sexual act or acts turned out to be top of the agenda. But I wasn't. In fact, it was quite the opposite. I enjoyed being naked, having his fingers run over my bare bum, and having his eyes gaze at me. I had found him removing my panties to be an incredible turn-on, his light touches to be soothing yet arousing and his bare legs pressing against my hips and legs exciting. The combination of these did make me a little nervous because clearly, I knew they were the precursor to me doing something much bigger; just what that was I wasn't sure. But what I did know was that I would do something sexual with this intriguing masseur.

I felt him remove the towels covering my legs so that both were bare. He shuffled behind where my feet lay on the mattress and took hold of both of my ankles. Without asking, he pulled them apart, wider and wider. He didn't say anything at all, but I suddenly got the most stringent charge of sexual arousal as I felt his fingertips brush up the inside of my left thigh, stopping just millimeters from where my pussy lies open, wet, and waiting. But waiting for what I wondered; a finger, several of them, a tongue, his cock, or all of them?

I felt his knees against the soles of my feet, he was pressing there as he caressingly massaged my inner, upper legs. Even in the dim light, he could not have avoided seeing my pussy lips, I wondered if they were glistening with my excretions.

He lifted one foot. He caressed and massaged that, the ankle, my instep, the arch, and each of the toes. That was surprisingly erotic. He lifted my foot further and pressed, quite hard, on the sole, massaging all over that and the ball of my foot. And then, he rubbed the bottom of my foot against the silk of his dressing gown; I was not sure, though what part of his body that was covering, well not at first that is. But then I gasped with sensation as I felt the bottom of my foot being pressed against what was obviously his bulge through the silk. He wasn't erect, but there was some hardness there. It was such a charge, I loved it.

I felt him shuffle between my opened legs, his knees pressing against my legs, just above my knees pushing them even wider apart. I knew he must be staring at my open pussy. His hands found my bum. He squeezed each cheek and rolled the flesh around, kneading and squeezing it and then pulling my cheeks apart. I could feel him leaning forward and then had I a fabulous sensation, one that I had never experienced before. I felt him blowing his breath first, along the crease between each cheek, then right on my bum hole, and then all along the cheeks of my pussy. It was an amazing feeling, and I couldn't stop a deep grunt of pleasure from slipping from my mouth as my entire body jerked and my bum wiggled at him.

"Nice?" he asked, moving his face away.

"Mmmmmmm" I moaned back.

"Good," he went on rewarding me by replacing his breath with his finger running softly right along the length of the crease in my bum. "Are you anal, Amanda?"
I wasn't sure quite what he meant so maybe rather naively I asked. "You mean anal sex?"

"Yes, do you like anal play as part of your foreplay?"

"Yes," I grunted feeling amazed that he was asking such questions.

"And penetration?" he asked pressing his finger right in my hole.

"Maybe" I sighed loving the pressure,

I moaned and jerked again so intensely and lovely were the sensations he gave me as his finger slid in a little way. But he stopped. Then he moved his hands up to my body and started to massage my upper back, shoulders, and neck. To reach them he moved further between my opened legs. Deeper, until the front of his knee lightly pressed against my pussy. That brought another big jerk and moan from me. He pressed more firmly. I pressed back, and he pressed more, I tried to close my legs around it, tried to sort of ride it, I suppose, but he stopped me.

"Not yet Amanda," he said in a rather schoolmasterly way as he gently admonished me.

He moved away and said softly. "I think it's time for you now. Turn over please."

It was so incongruous, I thought, that as I struggled my body over from my front to my back, he averted his eyes. He compounded this charade of being discrete by holding up a large towel, just like straight masseurs who are trained to avoid looking at the clients' naked bodies. But they only provide muscle relief, not the sexual pleasure I was expecting from him.

He laid the towel over me. It covered me from my breasts to my ankles.

Laying there on my back, naked and covered in just a towel, I got the chance to have a good look at Ben, my masseur. He was better looking than I had at first thought, but I realized he was probably older, possibly late fifties or early sixties, that shocked me for some reason. Kneeling beside me, he leaned forward and placed a pillow under my head, gently lifting my neck to do so: that was a nice tender touch; I liked his gentleness and consideration.

I also liked the way the lapels had now slid very widely apart, showing his hairy chest. It was open to his waist; there was no sign at all of a bloated stomach, in fact, what I could see above the tie looked firm, taught, and flat. Nice, I thought.
He shuffled from alongside me to behind my head, out of my view. Before he moved out of sight, though, and as he shuffled alongside me, the bottom part of his robe gaped. I wasn't sure, but it looked as though he was naked under it. For some daft reason, considering I was here for him to give me sexual satisfaction, that seemed incredibly exciting and made me want to plunge my hands under that robe and grab at the bulge, my foot had experienced earlier.

As Ben gave me one of the loveliest scalps and face massages I had ever had, something I find immensely erotic even when performed by a straight masseur or a hairdresser, my mind was consumed with wondering whether he was naked under the robe. That seemed such an important issue. My mind was buzzing with curiosity and queries. Was he naked, was he hard, how big was he, was he circumcised, and would he later offer to fuck me with it, or simply let me hold it? Would he present it to my mouth for me to suck and if he did what would he taste like?

Those questions had to remain unanswered though, at least for a while, for he had started to massage the front of my shoulders along my collarbone.

 My eyes were tightly closed, but I knew he would have to lean forward from his kneeling position. I frequently felt the silk of his robe, probably the cuffs or elbows, brush across my face; a heady sensation indeed, silk is so sensual, I find. Then I opened my eyes and saw that it was not the cuffs or elbows, but the folds covering him beneath the waist, the part covering his, what I was sure would now be, his erection. I still couldn't see that and how I stopped myself from reaching up for it, I have no idea. It is so unlike me, but I had such a desire to feel and stroke his cock that my body was exploding with want. Perhaps that was his plan, I wondered.

I closed my eyes again and gave in to the feelings, sensations, and emotions that Ben was creating in me. He certainly knew his stuff, both from a technical massage and an arousing woman's angle.

to be continued