It started while I was giving him a Saturday morning handjob with my bare breasts pressed up around his crotch. Spitting on the head to mix with his precum and cooing dirty thoughts at him, he said, “fuckkkkk, baby … watching you is like having the best of those massage girls. You’re such a pro!”
That gave me an idea. I slowed my movements.
“When was the last time you went to one of those places?” I asked. We are very open about this kind of stuff.
“Hmmm,” he said – half thinking and half straining his arousal as I slowed on him, “It’s been a while. I guess that work trip to San Francisco right after the new year?”
I smile and release him, “Then let’s go!”
“What, now? I could cum any minute!” he said.
“Well, save it for the little massage bunny – come on! My treat!” I hopped up out of bed and went to the bathroom to run a brush through my hair. He came into the bathroom, erection pointing straight forward and seemingly unwilling to subside.
“But, you are the best. I don’t need that,” he contested and pushed the tip of his cock at my ass cheeks. I met his eyes in the mirror.
“Yeah, but it would get me really hot to know you were getting it from someone while I wait in the lobby and then have you come back to me.” I make the involuntary eyes that he knows means my fuse has been lit and there’s no stopping me.
I tugged on a little romper with nothing underneath and slipped into some rhinestoned flip flops. He grabbed a T-shirt, athletic shorts, and some slip-ons. I grabbed my keys and wallet, and out we went.
Chicago has no lack of little massage parlors. In fact, it’s tough sometimes to tell which little reflexology places are legit and which are good for a happy ending. But, if you know what to look for you can figure it out. A three-block walk and we were entering one of the latter with its mirror filmed windows and “24 hours” neon sign.
An older lady with an eastern European accent greeted us and asked if we wanted 'couples massage?' I shook my head and said, “Nope, just him!” with a grin and, “my treat!” I handed her the cash for the base fee, and gave him the rest of it. A kiss on the cheek and a pat on his ass, “Have fun baby!”
The lady welcomed us both through the louvered door which separated the inner lobby from the outer and showed me where I could sit. The place smelled like incense, baby oil, and a little humanity. She led my boyfriend though the curtain and out of the seating area.
There was one other woman across the seating area. She was on her phone, long faux nails tapping away. She had really beautiful features, a little heavy on the make-up, legs for days to perfectly polished toes just a shade off of my own in similar flip-flops to mine.
The clickety clack of our mutual nails (mine are real) on our phones persisted for a while, until a man appeared wrapped in a towel at the waist through the curtain and motioned to her. She smiled and stood and took his hand to accompany him in the back. I had figured she worked here, but was on a break or something.
I returned to my phone…fake news, bad news, hot Instagram post, until a heard a throat clear. I looked up and another man in only a towel was standing in the curtain and motioned to me. I looked around and realized I was the only person in the seating area. He continued to wave me over and I started to realize …
I gave it about one second's worth of thought and smiled and rose and took his hand.
He led me down a hall past a sauna and some other curtained off rooms to one where his clothes hung on a hook. A gentleman, he motioned me into the room first and drew the curtain behind us. There we were, face to face. I gestured for him to lay down and he unceremoniously dropped his towel, shoved a $50 bill in my hand and said “Why don’t you get out of that,” and laid face down on the massage table.
I’m a lifelong nudist and not shy at all about my body, but it did help a little that he was face down in the ring while I stepped out of my shoes and romper. I mean, there was no going back now.
I clapped my hands together to warm them up and took a couple pumps from the massage oil bottle. As I began to run my hands over his shoulders I asked if he needed anything special today. He replied, “this is nice for now, you’ll know when you get there.”
I am a rather good masseuse, so I worked my hands down his spine and to his waist repeatedly, warming both his skin and my hands. I shifted down letting my fingers dance over his buttocks before moving up and down his legs. He was quite tall and his feet hung over the bottom of the table. I went down to the end of the table and pressed my bare abdomen into the soles of his feet as I stretched to work my slippery hands up the insides of his thighs to his ass crease, out to the edges, and back down the outsides.
He parted his legs a little so I could see his fat sack against the table and I worked my hands up to spread his ass cheeks apart revealing his puckered hole just above his balls. My finger traced his crack and circled his anus slowly before descending to follow the seam of his scrotum, which twitched when I touched it.