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page views:1 Publication date:2014-03-30

My wife is a very traditional woman. She's never been with any other man besides me. Over the years of our marriage, I've occasionally had affairs, so I'm quite familiar with the local entertainment venues. I've been trying to persuade her to go out and have some fun, but it always ends up getting me a scolding. However, I haven't given up, and I've been plotting how to get her involved. One day, the opportunity came.
After work that evening, my wife and I went out for dinner. We had a great time chatting; it had been a long time since we'd had such a good talk, so I could tell my wife was in high spirits. After dinner, neither of us wanted to go home, so I suggested we find a place to sit, and my wife agreed. One of her close friends' husbands recently opened a bar, so we agreed to go and support him. We drove to the bar. Once inside, I was slightly disappointed; it was very ordinary and nothing special. But since we were already there, we sat down and ordered a few beers.
After sitting for a while, it got boring, so I suggested we go somewhere quieter. We drove to a nearby jazz bar, run by a foreigner. It had a unique vibe, with a Filipino band playing slow songs; the atmosphere was nice. We found a secluded spot, watched the show, and chatted aimlessly. Around midnight, we were both
a little tipsy and decided to leave. Once in the car, I asked my wife, "Where to?" She said, "Where to? It's so late, let's go home." I said, "I'm a little dizzy. How about we get a massage to sober up before we go? It's Saturday tomorrow, so we don't have to go to work." My wife asked, "Where to?" I thought for a moment and said, "There's a nice sauna with a women's section. I'll get her there first." I said, "Let's go to Golden Harbor. Their massage services are amazing."
When we arrived at Golden Harbor Sauna, we parked and went inside, arm in arm. We then went to the men's and women's sections separately. I told the manager that the woman had never been to a place like this before, and not to make her too nervous. The manager said, "Don't worry, we're very discreet here; you won't run into anyone you know." With my own thoughts running wild, I quickly finished showering and went up to the third floor. Just to clarify, the first floor is the men's bath area, the second floor is the women's bath area, and the third floor has private rooms. I went up to the third floor and found two quiet rooms (I'd been here many times and was very familiar with the area). I opened one room and went in to rest, waiting for my wife to come up. After 15 minutes, the attendant brought my wife up. By then, she had changed into a Japanese-style sauna robe. Thinking that she wasn't wearing anything underneath, I couldn't help but feel a little excited; my little brother slowly became erect, hehe! I said to my wife, "You can stay in the next room." My wife asked, "Can't we just share one room?" I said, "Look for yourself, there's only one bed in each room. How can we share one? You go in first, and I'll ask them to arrange a masseuse." My wife went in, puzzled.
My wife is a bit of a clean freak, so I told the manager, "Could you arrange a clean male masseur for my friend?" A little while later, the masseur arrived and was led into my wife's room. My wife asked in surprise, "Why is it a man?" The manager explained, "It's too late; all the women have left, so only male masseurs are available." I secretly admired the manager's shrewdness. I also said, "It's just a massage; men and women are different. Even at a hospital, you can't choose your doctor!" My wife reluctantly lay down. We turned and left the room.
Nowadays, saunas are prohibited from having completely sealed doors due to police regulations, so they all have a small, magazine-sized transparent glass panel on the door. After we left, the masseur took a towel from inside and used it to block the glass. I thought, "That won't do! I've come all this way for nothing!" I went to my room, got a towel, made a small hole in the middle, and then went to my wife's room door, called the masseur out, and instructed him, "Just massage him as you normally would. I'll arrange a tip after you're done. Don't pay attention to any noise outside." Then I handed him the towel: "Use this towel to block the glass, and give me the other one." The masseur looked at me, puzzled, and took the towel.
I returned to my room, and the manager asked, "Sir, should we arrange one for you?" I said, "No need, I'll rest for a bit. I'll pay the room fee as usual, just don't let anyone disturb us." The manager agreed, "Then please rest well, we won't disturb you."
After a few minutes, I made sure no one was outside, and my wife's massage had probably already started. I took a deep drag of my cigarette, left my room, and went to the door next door. Through a small hole I had cut in the towel, I could see the massage bed and faintly hear my wife and the masseur talking.
My wife was lying on the massage bed, still wearing her Japanese-style top, but the masseur had pulled it up to her neck. The masseur was standing to the side of the bed, holding massage oil, applying it to my wife's back. The oil was quite cool, and when it dripped onto my wife's back, I could feel her body trembling. After applying the essential oil, the technician began massaging my wife's back with both hands, starting from the bottom up along the spine. After about 5 minutes, the technician started massaging from the outside towards the spine. I could clearly feel my wife's bare breasts being deformed and squeezed under the pressure of the technician's hands and her own body weight. I couldn't help but feel excited, and my penis became noticeably erect. My wife's back began to shine and turn red because of the essential oil, and a little essential oil dripped down from the side of her breasts. The technician also wiped the essential oil off the side of my wife's breasts. Just as the technician's hands touched the side of my wife's breasts, I could clearly feel my wife's body twist slightly. It seemed that she was aroused, and her buttocks also slightly lifted up. This is how she is when she is excited.
After a while, the back massage was finished. The masseur gently pulled down my wife's massage shorts and began massaging her buttocks. As the shorts were pulled down, my wife's round buttocks were revealed to a strange man. I noticed that the masseur's shorts were also bulging, which excited me even more. I knew the real show was just beginning.
The masseur began applying essential oil to my wife's buttocks. Due to tension, my wife's legs were tightly clamped together, and her buttocks were also very tense. However, as the masseur's hands gently massaged her fair buttocks, her muscles slowly began to relax, and her thighs were no longer tightly clamped. The masseur's hands squeezed the muscles of my wife's buttocks outward from the groin. With the movement of his hands, the muscles of my wife's buttocks parted to the sides, revealing her anus. The muscles of her anus and buttocks became shiny and glossy under the effect of the essential oil. Suddenly, the technician changed his technique, massaging the wife's anus along the cleft of her buttocks. At this point, the wife was completely overwhelmed; her buttocks involuntarily writhed with each touch. When her buttocks lifted, her genitals were faintly visible, glistening with a mixture of essential oil and vaginal secretions. The technician became bolder, gently touching her genitals with his fingertips. Initially, he lightly touched them, causing her buttocks to arch even higher. He then placed four fingertips on her genitals, massaging in circular motions, while his thumb gently pressed against her anus. His other hand lightly massaged her back. This technician was truly skilled. The wife's legs had, at some point, fully opened. But the masseur wasn't in a hurry. After massaging my wife's genitals for a while, he removed his hands and began massaging her thighs, from the inside of her thighs to her calves, then to her feet, and finally to her toes. My wife had completely given up resisting, letting the masseur's hands roam over her body. Her legs were spread open, her face buried tightly in the pillow, her expression unreadable. About half an hour later, the masseur leaned close to my wife's ear and whispered something. My wife rolled over, her face up, flushed, her clothes pulled up, her shorts already down. I knew the masseur had started massaging her front.
My wife lay on the bed, and the masseur, with barely perceptible movements, untied her bathrobe. My wife turned to her side so the masseur could pull the sleeves of the bathrobe off her body. In an instant, my wife was lying naked on the bed, exposed to the masseur, and of course, to me, peeking from the doorway.
The masseur gently applied essential oil to the wife's breasts. Her breasts were firm, and her nipples glistened alluringly under the oil. The masseur grasped one of her breasts and kneaded it, while the wife's eyes were closed, her mouth slightly open, her face filled with ecstasy. Her legs were tightly pressed together, her genitals raised, and a liquid, unknown, was visible on her sparse pubic hair. After a while, the masseur pinched the wife's nipple between his index and middle fingers and began to lift it. As he lifted her nipple with both hands, the wife finally couldn't help but moan, "Oh..." Her hands, without her noticing, were now gripping the masseur's thigh tightly with the other, one hand kneading her clitoris, the other still holding onto it. Perhaps she hadn't completely let go, as she didn't grasp the masseur's penis, which had already created a tent in his shorts.
Unbeknownst to me, the technician's hand had already left my wife's breast and reached towards her genitals. He gently took my wife's hand, which was kneading her clitoris, and moved it to her own free breast. So, my wife was now kneading one breast in her own hand and the other in the technician's hand, which was pinching her red nipple and lifting it upwards. Meanwhile, her genitals were already fully open. The technician used the tips of his index and ring fingers to separate my wife's labia, and began to use his middle finger... The technician gently pressed on my wife's clitoris, and her breathing became rapid. Her hand, which had been on her breast, gripped it tightly, and her chin was raised. I knew she was ready for action. Then, the technician inserted his middle finger deep into her vagina, fingertip facing upwards. I knew he was searching for her G-spot. My wife began to twist her hips vigorously, her lips and eyes tightly closed. The technician leaned close to her ear and whispered something. My wife shook her head. She shook her head, but twisted her hips even more violently. The technician then shifted his attention to my wife's genitals, pinching her clitoris with his thumb and forefinger and gently rubbing it. My wife's clitoris had turned bright red under the technician's kneading, and her vagina was very wet, with the red vaginal opening exposed. Her labia were wet with her own semen and essential oil. The technician moved the hand that had been massaging my wife's breasts to her vaginal opening, pinching her clitoris with one hand and pinching her labia minora with the other, sometimes inserting two fingers deep into her vagina quickly. My wife's body swayed continuously, her hands kneading and rubbing her breasts hard, semen flowing from her vaginal opening, her body clenching tightly... Finally, with an involuntary cry of "Oh...", my wife's body completely relaxed. As her body relaxed, the technician's hands slowly slowed down, slowly leaving her genitals, and began to gently caress my wife's breasts. My wife also began to calm down slowly.
The masseur took a thermos from under the cabinet in the room, poured out some hot water, took a towel, wet it, and began to wipe the essential oil off my wife's body. Finally, he folded the hot towel into a small square and placed it on my wife's genitals. After a while, he washed the towel and began to wipe my wife's labia minora, vaginal opening, and groin. As he wiped with the hot towel, I noticed my wife was starting to react again, but she silently picked up her bathrobe and quietly put it on. The masseur also came out with a basin to pour out the water. I quickly retreated back into the room, trembling as I lit a cigarette, only to realize that my legs were already numb.
About five minutes later, my wife came to my door. Seeing me smoking, she asked, "Are you done?" I said, "I didn't have a massage. I was watching the Premier League. Are you done? Let's go."
In the car, we didn't speak, remaining silent the whole way.
When we got home, we showered and went to bed. I moved my wife's body, and she suddenly hugged me excitedly: "I want to do it." Our passion began, but I never asked my wife about what happened in the room, and she didn't mention it either. However, when I was penetrating my wife, all I could think about was the image of the masseur's hands moving in and out of my wife's vagina—that state of excitement is something I will never forget.

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