My wife went for a massage and got fucked.

page views:1 Publication date:2021-12-24

(The story is narrated in the first person.)
My husband has been abroad for almost a month, leaving me to manage the company alone. I'm exhausted every day. So I went to a resort to soak in the hot springs, because my husband had told me the massages there were good.

After half an hour, I lazily climbed out of the hot springs, wrapped myself in a towel, and went back to my room.

When I got back, a service girl was already waiting for me.

"Madam, please have a drink first." Seeing me come in, the girl handed me a red drink, then closed the back door of the room and drew the curtains. "Please wait a moment, the masseuse will be here soon."

"So she's not a masseuse..." I thought nervously as I drank my drink.

"Would you please lie down on the bed first?" The girl came forward to help me.

"Oh..." I had no choice but to go to the bed and lie down awkwardly.

"Is this your first time getting a massage?" The girl noticed my nervousness and said gently, "Please don't be nervous, Madam."

"Okay..." I blushed.

"Please take off your towel, then turn around and lie face down on the bed, okay?" The masseuse's voice was gentle, but every word made my heart race.

After she helped me remove the towel, I turned to my luggage and took out a set of underwear.

As I put on my white lace panties and prepared to put on my bra, the masseuse smiled and stopped me: "Madam, you can't wear a bra during a massage, it will reduce the effectiveness of the acupressure massage!"

I had no choice but to put the bra back in my luggage, and then, wearing only my panties, I lay face down on the bed, inwardly blaming myself: "Why did I have to choose such an embarrassing situation?"

The masseuse smiled secretly and covered my lower body with a square white towel: "Please wait a moment, the masseuse will be here shortly." After saying that, she left the room.

I was left alone in the room, my back exposed, lying quietly on the bed. At this moment, I felt an indescribable regret and blamed myself again.

Just as I was having second thoughts, the door was pushed open. With a click, the door closed, and someone entered.

I, who had been lying face down on the bed, turned my head and saw the masseur—a young man in his twenties, dressed in a white uniform, somewhat like a doctor's coat.

"The masseur is a man!?" My heart skipped a beat, and my face flushed crimson. Was I supposed to receive a massage from a man while completely naked? At that moment, I didn't know whether to sit up or lie down; I was incredibly embarrassed and ashamed. I wanted to tell the masseur I didn't want a man massaging me, but I didn't know how.

Watching the masseur walk to the bedside, I could only bury my head in the specially designed breathable pillow, lying quietly on the bed like a lamb to the slaughter.

"Dear guest, I will now begin your massage." Hearing the masseur's gentle voice, I felt a chill run down my bare spine.

He seemed oblivious to my embarrassment, gently taking my left arm in his hands, his fingers softly kneading the flesh of my arm.

My heart pounded faster, and I felt even more terrified.

He began massaging my left shoulder with his fingers, then slowly moved downwards—elbow, forearm, wrist, palm—and finally my fingers. He then massaged in the opposite direction, returning to my left shoulder.

“Please relax a little, sir,” the experienced masseur said softly, noticing my stiffness. He then gently tapped my left arm with his palms, moving up and down along my hand several times, gradually increasing the pressure. Hearing

his words, my face burned even hotter, and I felt incredibly ashamed. But since the masseur had insisted, I could only try to control my nervousness. I buried my head in the breathable pillow, closed my eyes, and tried to take deep breaths to ease my tension.

Perhaps it was his skill, but during the brief massage of my left arm, he quickly found the right pressure based on my body's response and began to gradually increase it. He paid attention to the combination of light and heavy pressure, and his acupressure points were very precise.

Soon, my arm felt a comfortable and pleasant sensation amidst the slight pain.

After stretching and manipulating the five fingers of my left hand, he took my entire left arm and gently bent and stretched it, centering on the shoulder joint and bending at the elbow.

With occasional soft "clicks," I felt all the joints in my left arm stretching and moving, an indescribable feeling of comfort traveling from my left arm to my brain and spreading throughout my body. In

just a few minutes, I experienced a comfort I had never felt before. As my body relaxed, my muscles and joints entered a soft and relaxed state, and my heart gradually calmed down.

"Maybe there was no need to be nervous at all!" I thought to myself, almost mocking my earlier embarrassment and tension as completely unnecessary.

Then he lowered my left arm, walked around the head of the bed to the other side, gently sat on the edge, and then took my right arm, beginning to massage it. Similarly, my right arm experienced the exact same sensation as my left.

After massaging my arms, he placed his hands on my shoulders, kneading them slowly with a slight pressure. Then, with each soft moan of pleasure, his hands began to vigorously knead my back, sometimes massaging the back of my neck, sometimes pressing and pushing my shoulder blades, sometimes pinching and kneading my spine, and sometimes stroking my waist.

Occasionally, when he touched sensitive areas, such as my armpits or waist, a pang of worry and shame would rise within me, but I tried my best to control my emotions.

Sometimes I thought to myself, "He must have massaged many people. If I'm too shy, I'll seem petty, and maybe I'll be laughed at."

Even I was surprised by this thought; why had I become so concerned about saving face? As a married woman, to have such intimate physical contact with a strange man, and to have such a willful thought—it seemed utterly unbelievable to me in my daily life.

Yet, at this moment, my brain was slowly swelling and heating up; a flame seemed to be burning deep within my cerebral cortex, and my body no longer seemed to resist this strange yet intimate contact. Could it be…?

I had a vague feeling that the drink I'd just had might have an aphrodisiac effect, but my brain was too busy to think about it. As the massage continued, my nerves completely relaxed, my breathing became even, and my thoughts began to drift. It

wasn't until a slight pain shot through an acupoint on my back that I snapped back to reality. Opening my eyes, I realized he had somehow climbed onto the bed and was kneeling beside me, massaging my back.

Lost in the pleasure, I seemed oblivious to his presence. I exhaled softly, closed my eyes again, and quietly enjoyed his massage.

“Guest, please lie down. Next is the second section…” His voice seemed to drift into my ears from afar. I gave a soft hum in response.

Just as I was feeling a little lightheaded, I suddenly felt a chill on my lower body—he had lifted the towel covering my lower body.

In my feverish, somewhat dazed state, I realized that I was only wearing a pair of white lace panties, which were semi-transparent, tight, and thin. If he lifted my towel, wouldn't he be able to see the mystery and curves of my lower body to his heart's content?

"Wait..." I struggled to break free from the pleasurable sensation in my mind, managing to utter just two words, but he had already straddled my legs and pressed his hands against my two plump, round buttocks.

"Please, sir, don't move..." he said in a slightly reproachful tone when he saw me trying to get up, stopping me from moving.

"How could you..." I tried to say something,

but his hands had already begun to knead my buttocks and waist forcefully. Was this considered a massage...?

I found it unbelievable, and a sudden wave of shame jolted me back to reality. But he had actually sat on my lap, and with a reproachful tone. Getting up like this might make me seem inconsiderate or ignorant! Maybe he would even blame me for mistaking his good intentions for something bad. But he was touching my private parts; should I just silently let this stranger caress my buttocks?

My mind went blank for a moment, unsure of what to do. Just then, a sharp, piercing pain shot through my groin, and I cried out.

He was kneading the main tendon in my groin; perhaps he was using too much force, or perhaps my thighs weren't used enough, but the pressure had become painful.

"Does it hurt? I'm sorry! I'll be gentler... like this... look..." Seeing this, he quickly apologized, while gently massaging my inner thighs with his fingers. At the juncture of my beautiful hip curves, in front of my semi-transparent lace crotch, the man's fingers slowly caressed my fair, smooth thighs.

This time the pressure was lighter, and I didn't feel the same pain as before, but the previous touch still left me shaken.

"Sir, your thighs are a bit stiff..." he said while massaging, "Is it because your thighs haven't been stimulated, or have your legs been stimulated recently..."

"No... sigh..." Thinking of spending more than ten hours a day in the office, I couldn't help but sigh.

"Looks like I need to massage this more..."

"..." At this point, I didn't dare to say anything more, and could only obediently lie on the bed, letting him massage my legs.

He opened his palms, cupping my left thigh, kneading the smooth muscles beneath my delicate skin while pressing on the acupoints and nerves on my leg, from my thigh, past my knee, down to my calf. Then he gently lifted my ankle, softly rotating my foot, and lightly scratching my sole with his fingernails.

Just as a feeling of comfort was rising within me, his hands released my foot and massaged back along the same route, all the way to my thigh.

Afterward, his palms covered my buttocks, kneading and pinching the soft, plump flesh through my thin lace panties.

If the previous actions felt like a massage, his current actions were more like caresses. Because there aren't many acupoints on the buttocks, and his kneading of my buttocks didn't seem to have much to do with massage.

However, at this moment, I was no longer aware of any of this. Since he had massaged my entire left leg from top to bottom, a sweet and warm feeling had been gradually growing and accumulating within me, and my heart was unknowingly undergoing a subtle change.

Especially when his hand approached my mysterious rear passage, I felt a tremor and tension in my lower body, and a slight ripple spread through the deep tunnel, a honey-like heat. These sensations traveled through my entire body to my brain, intermittent and fleeting, until that elusive, pleasurable feeling took over my mind, and all my initial worries and shame were long forgotten.

Is this a massage? So this is what a massage feels like! The feeling is so strange that I couldn't find the words to describe or praise it.

Just then, he seemed to deliberately slow down the massage, leisurely manipulating my right leg.

My consciousness was completely focused on his hands, and my emotions rose and fell with his movements. When his hands returned to my buttocks, playing with my noble hips and expensive underwear, I was almost overcome with desire and about to faint. The increasingly intense stimulation made my lower body feel like it was burning, and the already moist love juice inside my vagina even flowed onto my engorged labia.

If I were still conscious at this point, I should have noticed that my thin lace panties were already soaked with the love juice from my lower body and the sweat from my body. The already semi-transparent material was practically useless after being soaked; I should even realize that from his angle, he could see my most mysterious genitals covered by downy hair.

However, the pleasure and sensual stimulation all over my body had completely blurred my mind, and with the added effect of the drink, I only felt my body getting hotter and hotter, and my head getting more and more swollen...

"Would you please sit up with your back to the masseur, esteemed guest?" Just when I was completely out of control, he stood up from behind me, then bent one leg and gently knelt down behind me.

"Mmm..." I completely forgot my situation and position, and did not object to his request. As if pursuing the beauty of the moment, I straightened up and numbly knelt on the bed.

His hand reached out from behind and supported my waist, gently pulling me into his arms. I groaned and leaned back against his chest, my soft, white back almost pressed against his bronzed pectoral muscles.

"Now, let's begin the third section, 3D massage..." he said, his hands already on my back, massaging from my neck to my waist, interspersed with occasional "slap slap" sounds.

I couldn't help but groan, my body swaying with his movements.

He was indeed a highly skilled masseur; he accurately targeted almost every acupoint with just the right amount of pressure. I knelt on the bed, arms hanging down, chest out, stomach in, enjoying his high-level massage as if in a dream, completely oblivious to everything around me.

What I enjoyed most was when he asked me to raise my hands above my head, while he sat behind me, spreading his arms to massage my sides, moving back and forth between my ribs and armpits. During these vigorous movements, his fingers would sometimes reach forward, occasionally touching the outer edge of my breasts. That unfamiliar, lightning-fast touch made my mind race, every nerve in my body seemed to stand on end, and my body trembled with urge.

I closed my eyes, not daring to look down. I knew myself that my nipples were shamelessly erect.

But I felt no aversion to this provocation. My mind was consumed by a raging fire; on the contrary, I even secretly hoped for these provocations to come again and again. Observing my reaction, a sly glint appeared in his eyes, and a barely perceptible smile appeared on his lips.

When his hand returned to my armpits, he suddenly reached out and wrapped his arms around the lower edge of my breasts from behind. To conceal this, he quickly and lightly scratched the delicate skin along the lower edge of my nipples with his fingers.

"Ah...not there..." I frowned and instinctively twisted my upper body, my reaction not intense at all.

My breasts were being assaulted by a stranger, and my reaction was completely unlike that of a young woman.

As his fingers climbed to the tips of my snow-white breasts, circling my two tender, hard nipples with his nails, I trembled and raised my head, leaning my body into his arms.

Smelling my intoxicating fragrance, a triumphant smile finally appeared on his face.

He kneaded my nipples with his index finger and thumb, pressing his bulging erection against my buttocks, the tent-like opening gently rubbing against my sweaty lace panties.

"Ah!..." I shamefully thrust my breasts higher, chasing the pleasure on my nipples, while secretly raising my round, white buttocks, wiggling them annoyingly, as if trying to swallow his tent into my cleft.

“Now for the fourth section…” he whispered in my ear in a devilish voice, “tongue massage…” He then put his arm around my shoulder and turned my body towards him.

Just as I was feeling empty and lost, bewildered by the sudden loss of his touch, his lips pressed against mine, kissing me deeply.

“No…” I tried to cry out, but no sound came out.

The instant his lips touched mine, my mind went blank, like being electrocuted, a surge of heat coursed through my body, and I was enveloped in an almost suffocating kiss.

As he fondled my buttocks and pushed his tongue deeper, I suddenly became a little more aware, because this shy position reminded me of my husband—the last remaining memory that kept me conscious.

I struggled to open my eyes, instinctively covering my exposed breasts with my hands. As a married woman, naked from the waist up, my full breasts prominently displayed, I knelt on an unfamiliar massage bed, being embraced and kissed passionately by a strange man. Opening my eyes, I suddenly felt embarrassed and uneasy.

He was just a massage therapist at a hotel; why was I obediently sitting here, letting him do as he pleased?

Just like at the beginning, confusion and thoughts of retreat arose in my mind again: Why was I accepting this massage? Why was I sitting in front of a strange man wearing only thin lace panties? Why was I shamefully covering my breasts with my hands?

Deep down, the thought of pushing him away and leaving had crossed my mind more than once, but for some reason, I couldn't do it. A swelling, burning sensation rose in my mind again, and the pleasure from the massage and the slight, shy pleasure I felt made me unable to open my mouth to stop him.

Moreover, with his lips tightly and passionately kissed, it was impossible for me to open my mouth even if I wanted to.

This is just a relaxing massage and adjustment, designed to help one relax the whole body and release suppressed energy; it's beneficial and harmless to the body. He solemnly declared this to me before the massage.

Since I didn't refuse the previous massage, how could I stop the masseur's work halfway through? Although this "tongue massage" is much more sensual than the previous massage, I couldn't refuse. If I suddenly ask to stop now, he might misunderstand and think I'm complaining about the technique. Would that hurt his feelings?

Thinking of this, I closed my eyes again, involuntarily immersing myself once more in those waves of strange and wonderful sensations. I don't even know why I had such thoughts. I'm still in a very awkward and shameful situation, yet I still have the mind to think about others. I'm really strange today; not only am I feeling hot all over, but my mind is also filled with strange thoughts. What's wrong with me?

As I savored the feeling of the man's tongue caressing my mouth, I sighed inwardly in a daze.

Clearly, under the influence of my hazy thoughts and sensual impulses, I had completely forgotten one fact: his massage had long exceeded the bounds of normalcy. As a married woman, I had every reason to refuse this erotic massage. This was a thought I had never dared to entertain.

Suddenly, his lips released mine.

"My dear lady, please relax," he said softly, blowing warm breath on my ear. "Don't be nervous, you're enjoying the services of the masseuses..."

Still reeling from the passionate kiss, I was about to open my eyes when he suddenly pressed his lips to my ear and gently blew on it.

"Ah..." I trembled slightly.

His lips lightly touched the edge of my ear, while his tongue licked it. The sweet sensation spread like waves from my ear throughout my body.

Compared to the subtle massage, the pleasure evoked by this method was more subtle. In a sense, this pleasure, lurking within the body and arising from the mind, created a more powerful impact than a direct, overt experience.

His lips slowly kissed down from my ear, reaching my snow-white neck and soft shoulders. After a series of soft "sizzling" sounds, his hot lips brushed against my breasts, moving towards my nipples, even touching my hands that had been protecting them.

"Oh..." I couldn't help but tilt my head back and groan, feeling my breasts about to be attacked; every sensual nerve in my body tensed. Although my hands covered my breasts, they were almost powerless, merely symbolically placed there, ready to be released at the slightest touch.

However, to my surprise, his lips didn't pry my hands aside to invade my breasts, but instead stopped on the skin below my neck.

His hands suddenly released my waist and slid down to my round buttocks.

“Madam, you have such a beautiful figure!” He lifted his head from my breasts. “Of all the clients I’ve served, your buttocks are the most exquisite! Be confident, okay?” Perhaps to ease my tense nerves, he said this with a deliberate smile, while simultaneously opening his large palms and gently kneading my full buttocks through my underwear.

“Really?” I answered blankly, my attention completely focused on my breasts, as if nervously anticipating his assault.

“Could you lean back a little?” he said, bringing his face close to my chest again, speaking as if exhaling in front of my hands that were tightly protecting my breasts.

“Mmm…” Feeling his hand on my waist again, I leaned back without thinking, following his movement.

“Relax… Your posture can be even more graceful, sir…”

Despite his constant reassurances, my nerves remained tense. The longer he delayed his assault on my breasts, the more focused my nerves became on them. My body gradually leaned back, but my firm breasts remained perky and shapely. If I hadn't been holding my breasts tightly, he probably would have showered them with compliments again.

He finally lowered his head and began his assault on my chest with his tongue. When his tongue touched my hands protecting my breasts, I shuddered. My fingers, as if about to collapse, completely relaxed their defenses. Between those practically nonexistent fingers, pink nipples peeked out.

However, he wasn't attacking those pink nipples, nor my snow-white breasts, but rather my hands, which were barely pressed against my breasts.

For some reason, amidst the tension and trembling, I felt a slight sense of relief. If he had attacked my breasts, I would have been utterly panicked. I seemed to have forgotten my position. As a married woman, I had no reason to sit naked in front of a strange man, no need to accept a massage, and no need to constantly worry about when he would invade my breasts, buttocks, or some other more troublesome organ.

Yet, at that moment, my mind was completely consumed by a burning sensation, leaving no room for any disobedient thought.

He greedily took my fingers into his mouth, sucking on each one, exposing my breasts completely to his smug gaze. However, his hot, sticky tongue didn't attack my breasts; instead, it licked from under my arms, from my fingertips down my elbows to my armpits.

"Oh my god..." Like an electric current, my body suddenly trembled, and I lost my balance, collapsing flat on the bed.

He, wearing only athletic shorts, seized the opportunity, bracing himself on the bed and pressing down on my nearly naked body, continuing his licking.

I never knew my armpits and elbows were so sensitive. His tongue's licking inadvertently awakened previously unknown erogenous zones!

As his tongue glided inch by inch across the smooth, white skin of my arm, my previously unnoticed erogenous zones were gradually discovered. At that moment, I finally understood that what could bring a tremendous sensual impact to the body was not limited to sexual organs such as the breasts and vulva; behind the ears, the neck, the armpits, and even the limbs, there were extremely sensitive reaction points hidden there.

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My wife went for a massage and got fucked.

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