Exposure in foot massage parlors

page views:1 Publication date:2024-05-09wyb

My husband and I often drive around to relax. This weekend, we went to a scenic county town. After having a simple meal with his friend, we suggested getting a foot massage. A wet thought popped into our heads…

Upon entering, a waiter greeted us at the entrance. Because it's a small county town, the interior decor wasn't particularly appealing. We were quickly led by the waiter through the main hall to a private room. The room had four seats. There were three of us in total: my husband sat in the middle, his friend sat on the outside, and I sat near the restroom. After a few minutes, the masseuses arrived. Only two female masseuses had finished their shifts, so I asked them to go first. Soon after, a male masseur came in. My husband's face darkened. He said, jealously, that he wanted a female masseur to massage me. The male masseur said his technique was also excellent, and the female masseuses wouldn't finish for another forty minutes. Since it was getting late and we still had a long drive to get home, my husband reluctantly let the male masseur serve me.

On the surface, I ate the fruit platter with little expression, but in my mind, I was making my own plans… The masseuse started lining the basin with plastic sheeting, filling it with water, and asking what kind of treatment I wanted. I casually said I'd just use the same as them and go to the restroom. As I spoke, I turned and grabbed my handbag, slipping into the restroom in my high heels. I took off my stockings; today I was wearing a long, slit skirt, one of the reasons my husband didn't want male masseuses to massage me… I had originally planned to show my underwear to the masseuse, but at this moment I decided to go all the way with the exposure. Thinking this, I pulled down my thong as well. I noticed that the crotch area was already wet, and the edges were stained with a layer of grime from where it had dried. I unconsciously sniffed it; it didn't have a strong odor, just a lingering body odor. Without thinking much of it, I put my underwear and stockings in my handbag, pulled down my skirt, and left.

The technician was ready for me, letting me dip my feet in to test the water temperature. My toenails were painted red, and I slowly stirred the water, mimicking the seductive scenes on TV, secretly observing the technician's expression, trying to gauge if he was a foot fetishist. That's when I really looked at him; handsome and masculine, but unfortunately, he was wearing a technician's uniform with rather mediocre taste—a belt with a large brand logo around his waist and those bulky men's leather shoes I absolutely hate… I guess that's standard attire for this kind of industry. The only thing that made me feel relieved was that his toenails were neatly trimmed. He didn't react particularly to my teasing, so, feeling foolish, I deliberately stomped my foot hard on the bottom of the tub, splashing water onto his face. He was startled, and I gently said, "Sorry, I didn't control my strength." He wiped his face with his sleeve and said it was alright. He slowly poured water onto my calves, which weren't submerged, then carefully massaged my ankles. I sipped the herbal tea provided by the club while playing on my phone, mentally trying to figure out how to expose my bare genitals to my husband without him noticing…

Although the room wasn't brightly lit, lifting my skirt like this would easily alert my husband and the middle-aged woman massaging my feet. I needed to think of a solution, but I couldn't come up with one right away. Suddenly, I saw a price list on the wall that included pedicures… So, I casually asked the masseur if I had calluses on the soles of my feet from wearing high heels too often. He said yes, and then immediately promoted his service, saying I should get pedicures regularly. I said, "Then please do it for me." He agreed and continued washing my feet. After massaging my body, he got the pedicure tools and a lamp. After drying my feet, he lifted them up and carefully began massaging. While pretending to play on my phone, I wondered how long it would take for him to realize I wasn't wearing underwear. After he finished working on one foot, he asked me to switch to the other. The instant our eyes met, I noticed his gaze linger for a moment before quickly shifting away. Haha, I'm sure he saw it!!! Perhaps thinking he was mistaken, he looked again, this time for a longer time. He even looked at me again to confirm. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his shy, surprised, and slightly mocking expression. I unconsciously became wet… After he looked at it several times, I deliberately moved the foot he was holding, signaling him to continue. He immediately looked at me, startled. I pretended to be looking at my phone, the blue light reflecting off my face, but I remained expressionless. Only then did he continue working on me. I was genuinely afraid he'd be so focused on my genitals that the scalpel might cut my flesh… I glanced back at my husband, still chatting animatedly with his friends, thinking, "Silly husband, you were worried about the male technician touching my foot a while ago, and now your wife is willingly exposing herself to others, even getting wet… and you're just standing there oblivious."

He finished his pedicure quickly, added some hot water, and told me to keep my feet soaking in the tub. The older woman next to me was engrossed in chatting with another technician, putting her feet up on my husband's lap stool. The shop wasn't very nice, so my husband turned a blind eye to her behavior. I stared at her crotch, and for a moment I really wished she was a well-dressed older woman wearing open-crotch stockings to seduce my husband… Meanwhile, the technician wasn't idle while I was soaking my feet. He was gently massaging my calves. Actually, other technicians wouldn't massage them at this stage, but I knew what he was thinking. Because my legs were bent during the foot soak, he was closer to me than when my legs were straight. He could pretend to massage my calves while actually looking at my genitals. Haha, little rascal, did he think I didn't know? He was secretly pleased, wasn't he? After a while, my husband, who had been chatting the whole time, started snoring. I was secretly pleased and calmly asked the older woman next to me to turn off the lights so my husband could rest better. With a click, the entire room went dark, except for the light from the television. The older woman asked if I wanted to turn off the TV too. Afraid the dim lighting would attract attention, I said I'd keep some noise.

At that moment, I pretended to look for something in my bag, shifting its position to block my husband's view of my exposed genitals. Whether the older woman saw it or not didn't matter anymore; we wouldn't be coming to this place again. With the lights off, the masseur was already struggling to see my genitals. I took out my spare phone, pretended to play with it for a while, set the screen timer to maximum, and casually placed it on the stool near my bottom. Then I reclined the chair 180 degrees, allowing the masseur a good view under the light.

Perhaps he'd never seen a customer's wife's genitals up close before? Because I often go to the gym and swim, I shave my pubic hair. My vulva is a dark color, and my labia are quite long from the mechanical movements of sex. My buttocks are also dark, but I like myself like this because it's a record of being ravaged, a record of every night I was fucked until I was panting and blushing, crying out, "Husband, I can't take it anymore..." It was time for the foot mask, and the masseur told me to take my feet out of the water. I mischievously put one leg on the leg rest, so my entire genitals were completely exposed to him. Even though I was lying flat, I seemed to feel his burning gaze because his hands suddenly stopped moving. I took the opportunity to press the electric chair up and stare at him. In the dim light, I couldn't see his face clearly, but I knew he was looking at me. I turned off my phone, crossed my arms, and looked at him. He continued to prepare for me, his eyes flickering, pretending to be nonchalant. This feeling of letting others know that I'm a slutty woman is just too magical. So I simply pulled my skirt up from the side, comfortably exposing myself. He understood my promiscuity and treated me like a sexually frustrated woman seducing him, staring intently at my genitals. When he applied a foot mask to my feet, he subtly pinched my little toes, then pulled up a chair and sat beside me, pretending to massage my legs, but actually blocking the older woman's view.

His hands roamed over the inside of my knees, from a firm massage to an excited, trembling, tentative exploration of my inner thighs… I felt a little itchy and shifted my hips slightly. He was startled and withdrew his hands, pulling my skirt down as well, before continuing his normal leg massage. He must have been frightened too, because his hands were strong and flustered. I looked at him, secretly pleased, thinking, "Serves you right for looking at my genitals with such disdain before. Humph, now I'll scare you too." But I still wanted to fully display my genitals to satisfy my exhibitionist desires, so I lifted my skirt slightly, lay down, closed my eyes, and felt his gaze…

Because my husband and his friend had their massage done before me, they finished earlier than my masseuse. After the two older women left, only my husband, who was half asleep, and my friend, who was playing on his phone, were left... I thought I still had some time, and I couldn't let my first exposed target get away with it so easily. I had to do something to make him remember me, to make him think about my wet genitals exposed in front of him all night, to make him fantasize about me... So, when he was helping me remove the foot mask, I deliberately moved my buttocks forward and, taking advantage of the dim light from the TV, peed in the foot bath in front of him. He was completely dumbfounded, staring at me, staring at me, a well-dressed woman who had come with her husband, peing with my legs slightly open in front of him. The only sound in the room was the TV, which wasn't very loud, and my husband's friend was still playing on his phone, so I could only try my best to hold my urine, letting it out little by little with each contraction. I watched him swallow hard, observing the man servicing me. He was watching my genitals, always hidden under my underwear, becoming increasingly wet. Crystal-clear, lustful fluids, mixed with urine, flowed uncontrollably from my vagina in front of this strange man. Just then, my husband's friend got up and walked towards me, probably to use the restroom. But I was still urinating for a stranger! I'd held it in for too long, and the urine just wouldn't stop… I could only let it gush out uncontrollably. He got closer and closer, and just when I was at my wit's end, he used a towel to block my urethra and pulled down my skirt. I was terrified. I looked at the masseur; he seemed equally flustered. He continued massaging my legs, his movements a little rough. My husband's friend went into the restroom, and my urine soaked the towel… The masseur grabbed the towel, wrung it out, seemingly mocking me for wetting such a large area. Finally, he took a few tissues from the table and gently wiped my genitals, then carried the wooden basin containing my urine and vaginal fluid out of the room.

A little while later, he came back in with fresh herbal tea. Seeing that my husband's friend hadn't come out yet, he took a slip of paper from under the tray. I thought he was going to hand it to me, but instead, he stuffed it into my vagina! By the time I came to my senses, he had already turned and left the room. After my husband's friend left the bathroom, I turned and ran into the bathroom, pulled the slip of paper out from under my vagina. It had a phone number written on it. I chuckled. This young man really thought I liked him. I'm just a promiscuous woman who enjoys exhibitionism. To me, anyone who sees me excites me. I want all the men in the world to see my dark skin, to see me straining and ashamed during urination… He's just a speck of dust in my exhibitionist life. So, I flushed the paper down the toilet…

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Exposure in foot massage parlors

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