Performing erotic massage in front of her husband

About six months ago, I went for a massage with my husband—the kind with erotic elements. We've been married for almost four years, and our sex life is pretty good… well, "good" is hard to define. Basically, I enjoy making love with him; I don't experience the "fever-reducing" or "boredom" that experts talk about.
The reason I went for the massage was because my husband loves browsing porn sites. After reading some stories, he'd tease me in bed. It's just for fun. There's nothing wrong with adding a little fantasy during sex—it's like pretending my husband isn't my husband.
We're a very ordinary couple. My husband is a junior manager, and I'm a typical housewife. When it comes to sex, we're probably like any other couple—we don't have any taboos. We watch porn, try some tricks during sex—sexual fantasies or props—and occasionally read erotic novels online… Honestly, I always feel those novels are written for men, or by men pretending to be women; they're about things that could never happen in real life. My husband gets very excited reading them, but as a woman, I know perfectly well whether those stories are true or false.
Anyway, after all the fuss, my husband actually created a QQ account and secretly posted ads online seeking female companions. When he found out, I was furious for a long time, feeling insulted. He's the only man I've ever had, and at thirty years old, he's still doing this kind of messy stuff? My husband said, "It's just for fun! Who says I have to agree to anything?" Surprisingly, there were a lot of responses, but none of them were actually married couples; most were single men looking to take advantage.
After reading their chat logs, it would be a lie to say I wasn't tempted. During that time, my husband wanted it almost every day, and I felt particularly aroused. But to actually have sex, even my husband admitted it wasn't as simple as in pornographic novels… I can believe in extramarital affairs to some extent, but is it really that easy to just casually have sex, or engage in threesomes or group sex? Who has the guts to choose a complete stranger based on just a few words on QQ? Putting aside looks, weight, and so on, what if the other person blackmails you afterward? With friends? Seriously, do you want to lose face?
One day in bed, my husband mysteriously said, "How about we go get a massage?" He'd heard it from a friend on a chat. A few shady men gossiping like that, all claiming to have heard it from someone else—who knows if it's true? I didn't pay him any attention at the time; my husband's like that—he's impulsive and forgets about it quickly after the initial excitement… But this time, he wouldn't let go of the topic, saying, "It's just a massage, it's not like we'll definitely do anything."
I think it's also because of safety; safety is always a woman's first consideration. With my husband around, and a paid masseuse, it's easy to check into a hotel… Most importantly, I can't bring myself to actually have sex with another man. Fantasizing is fine, having the thought occasionally is okay, but in real life, that's practically suicide. Since my husband keeps pestering me, I'm also tempted to try it out.
Actually, every woman has this thought of having a fling with another man, not because she doesn't love her husband or isn't sexually satisfied, but simply because she wants a little adventure. I think my husband thinks the same way. Taking risks is one thing, but risks must be within controllable limits. Who's stupid enough to jump out of a plane without a parachute?
After that massage, our sex life did become incredibly passionate for six months, but that was just a side effect, like trying to pull the actor out of an adult film.
I remember that massage vividly; although it was hard to accept, it was actually very stimulating. At first, I felt guilty, thinking about a strange man in front of my husband… that feeling afterwards. But because my husband didn't care at all, and even pretended to be the masseur every time we had sex afterwards, the stimulation was even greater than the massage itself. So, if your husband is open-minded enough, I suggest you try it, just halfway through. You can't force anything.
I didn't refuse, and then my husband ran to the living room and got a newspaper. That damn guy had already drawn a bunch of red circles on it. My husband meant that he heard some masseuses cater to both men and women, so he wanted to be able to choose. I didn't want to get any input. Just thinking about getting a massage was enough to make me incredibly nervous; I had no energy left for his game. In the end, my husband chose a "genuine male massage therapist for relieving fatigue," and I agreed. He seemed quite respectable, at least that was my impression.
On the phone, I heard my husband ask, "Is this afternoon okay?" Then he asked about the duration of each session, the price, whether he massaged men, etc. Finally, he even asked if the therapist offered the full service! I was anxious to stop him from talking nonsense, but I couldn't say anything… It seemed like the therapist hesitated for a moment, and I don't know what he said to my husband.
After hanging up, I was angry. My husband explained gently that he just wanted to confirm if the therapist offered the half service because the advertisement was so respectable… Since I had finally agreed, he didn't want to encounter a real "genuine male massage therapist for relieving fatigue." Okay! Although it felt embarrassing, my husband liked it, and—to be honest—I had a strange urge to try the pleasure of other men.
My husband said this masseur was quite expensive, so expensive it hurt his wallet. Then he smiled knowingly and said, "With such a high price, he might actually have some real skills!" This masseur didn't charge by the number of sessions; he would do it until you felt satisfied. On the phone, he kept emphasizing that he had truly studied in Japan and that his massage techniques were top-notch. When my husband asked if he wanted the full service, the masseur hesitated for a long time before saying, "These things depend on the feeling! If my wife feels it..."
I warned my husband again, "That's all we can do. Don't think of any other tricks!"
That day, I even wore sexy see-through lingerie. When we got to the hotel, my husband called the masseur again, and the masseur called back to the hotel room to confirm. I first sat on the bed, but then thought it wouldn't be good to mess up the bed, so I sat on a chair. In short, my mind was in turmoil, and I couldn't think of anything, afraid to move. My husband was the same, smoking one cigarette after another, filling the room with smoke. I knew he was nervous too.
I practically jumped when the doorbell rang. I frantically asked my husband, "Where should I stand?" I know it was a stupid question, but I genuinely didn't know where the best place to stand was.
My husband shrugged, kissed me, and whispered, "I love you!" Those words eased half of my nervousness, but the remaining half still made me feel like I was about to have a heart attack.
The masseur was a very muscular man, even a bit overweight, at least 1.8 meters tall! Because I was shy, I kept my head down, so I didn't dare see his face clearly, but the feeling was okay. You know, we women judge men by our feelings; the most important thing is the feeling. If the feeling is right, then it's right. I stood at the farthest corner of the bed from the door, trying to make myself look more natural and forcing a smile…
The masseur's voice was gentle. He softly asked, "What's your name?" My husband answered for me, "Just call her Juanjuan!"
He was carrying a briefcase-like bag, and then took out a bottle of something I couldn't identify. He then asked, "Would you like to take a shower first?"
I had already showered before leaving the house, but thinking about what I was about to do, I felt I should shower again… Now I was facing a man; what if he meant he wanted to shower with me? Thinking of this, I suddenly felt hot all over, almost unable to stand. I hurriedly said, "I've already showered, just now."
Then he gestured for me to take off my clothes, and I blushed and took off my outer clothes first, revealing a transparent bra. I noticed that he and my husband were both staring at my body. I had just felt the air conditioning in the room was very cold, but now I wished my husband could turn it up a bit.
I burrowed under the sheets, unsure where to look, and heard my husband say in his unusually dry voice, "My wife is very ticklish, so..."
The masseuse first expressed her regret, then went on to boast about her skills. I didn't hear a word she said; all I could think about was where to look to avoid being impolite. Maybe I should close my eyes? But this masseuse was very polite…hmm! If you're looking for a massage to relax, I suggest you get a feel for her attitude over the phone first.
"Juanjuan…um, do you mind if I wear clothes?" the masseuse gently hinted, "The oil massage might get dirty!"
I started taking off my bra under the sheet, hesitating when taking off my underwear…not that I should, but since I was here, and she was here, there was no reason not to. I was thinking that my movements would be clearly visible through the thin sheet; how could I undress elegantly? Honestly, even now I don't know if I undressed elegantly.
Although I was covered by a sheet, I was completely naked, and the feeling was a mix of fear, nervousness, and excitement. But this sheet, with just a gentle lift… My husband came over, took my underwear, kissed my cheek, and then sat down on a chair next to me, crossed his legs, and started smoking again.
At this point, the masseur also started undressing, explaining that it was an oil massage, so he had to take his clothes off too. To my relief, he wasn't completely naked; he was still wearing a small pair of underwear. I didn't pay much attention, but I still caught a glimpse. His buttocks were very firm, and combined with his physique, they looked very powerful; as for that area… it felt bulging, not much different from my husband's.
Then he told me to turn over. I turned over and lay face down, my face pressed against the pillow. Not having to look at him made me feel a little better. Then I thought: What is this damn husband doing now? Watching his wife being touched by someone else? Am I the one enjoying it, or is he?
The masseur slowly pulled back the sheet from my body. As the sheet was removed, my skin came into contact with the cold air in the room, reminding me that my body was now completely exposed to a strange man…
I guessed this wasn't a real oil massage, just lotion; the lotion felt so cool on my skin. "You have such a great figure, such fair skin, your husband is so lucky!" The masseur's voice was very soft. His low voice made me feel like I was doing something incredibly important behind my husband's back, but the room was actually small, and I knew my husband could definitely hear me.
His compliments might just be a professional habit, but hearing them felt good, and my shyness began to disappear. I've said it before, women live by their feelings.
He first massaged my shoulders, very gently, asking in my ear, "Does this hurt? Am I being too rough?…" The tension from before was starting to dissipate; it felt so good, so good that I forgot there was a man next to me wearing only underwear, so good that I forgot I was naked, so good that I almost wanted to sleep.
Just as I relaxed, the masseur's hands began to move down, to my back. The massage on my shoulders was fine, but as it moved downwards, it started to tickle… I'm really ticklish, and my husband always uses this trick when I'm angry or upset. Honestly, I don't know which part of my body isn't ticklish.
Even though it tickles, I'm too embarrassed to say it—you know, women are afraid of being laughed at. I think I shifted slightly, and this guy, so perceptive, noticed even that subtle movement! He asked softly, "It tickles?" I gently hummed in response.
His voice was so gentle and attentive; my initial shyness almost vanished, replaced by trust, just like my trust in my husband. Of course, a large part of it was because I was lying face down; hiding my face seemed to increase my sense of security.
His hands continued massaging, slowly moving downwards. When he reached my waist, I burst out laughing! He laughed too after hearing my laughter, and the tension in the room completely disappeared. It's a very special experience; when you expose your flaws and find that the other person doesn't care, the relationship immediately becomes much closer.
So I told him I was ticklish, especially my waist… Talking to him was a natural thing, like telling my beautician what kind of hairstyle I wanted. This ease lasted only a second, because his hand left my waist and slid down to my buttocks.
He didn't rush to do anything; first, he poured some lotion on my buttocks and started massaging. Several times I felt he was about to touch my genitals, so close, but as if he had accidentally and apologetically, he immediately pulled away. I knew he would eventually touch there, but I was still afraid; some things you can never get used to.
In a state of tension and anticipation, his hand left my buttocks and moved down again. On one hand, I was a little disappointed that he had given up on doing something "serious," and on the other hand, I started to worry that the ticklish nerves on my legs were too sensitive.
Suddenly, he started gently massaging my feet and said, "Your legs are so beautiful, so white and slender, so beautiful…" I knew he was sincere, at least I felt it was, and that feeling was everything in my life.
Then he started kissing my legs, even touching the insteps to caress his cheeks, as if he'd discovered some of the world's most beautiful treasures… At first, I resisted, trying to pull away. No one had ever kissed my legs, no one had ever praised my feet. Maybe my parents had, but at least not since I can remember. He didn't let me go like he had during the massage earlier; he pulled me back, kissing me, and I felt his tongue darting between my toes…
It wasn't the physical pleasure, but a psychological emotion; I almost felt like crying. This was the first time someone had kissed a place I'd never even noticed before.
Some say women are "developed," and I tell you, that's absolutely true. From our first holding hands to my husband's first kiss and caresses, I still remember the shock I felt when I first touched his penis. Women rarely know what they want or don't want; they need a good man to guide them. We're not as rough as men; women are independent creatures like cats. I believe no two women feel the same way about sex, and any sex education book you can find contains at least a third of errors.
Time seemed to stretch on forever. I was completely absorbed in a feeling of being moved, so much so that I didn't even notice his hand moving between my thighs. When he touched my genitals, I realized how large his hand was, yet so delicate. He didn't directly violate my most intimate area; he simply stroked back and forth between my thighs, occasionally brushing against the cleft of my buttocks and then immediately moving away, almost imperceptibly. I felt my whole body relax and dissolve. It wasn't pleasure yet, but I knew he was touching me, this gentle man was touching me…
His hand slowly covered my genitals, completely covering them and gently kneading them, like a guardian angel. After a while, his fingers began to probe inside and out of the cleft, and suddenly he found my most sensitive clitoris, just lightly brushing against it. In that instant, I let out a soft "Mmm!" I knew I shouldn't have, but I felt like a small boat adrift on a gentle ocean, suddenly struck by lightning...
I realized I was already wet; his touch made me feel my clitoris was covered in love juice, his fingers easily gliding and teasing it. Every muscle in my body was awakened, and I uncontrollably arched my hips, but he remained gentle, neither impatient nor worried.
The first pleasure came slowly; besides gripping the sheets tightly, I couldn't do anything. This tidal wave of pleasure never subsided, not like the waves people describe, but more like a tsunami—you never know where it will end.
His hands were so light, and his touch into my lower body was so natural. I could hear the sound of water flowing from my genitals, like waves crashing against rocks… I tried to hold back my noise, but my body wouldn't cooperate. I wanted to roll over, to leap up, but my body just kept sinking downwards. A sense of powerlessness rose within me, and all I could do was try to raise my hips towards him. I thought I was about to cry, or perhaps I already was… but his tenderness still wouldn't let me go.
I didn't know I could be so wet; it was like a dam bursting, completely uncontrollable. Actually, there was no need for sex, no need for any movement. Now, sitting here recalling the lewd sounds my lower body made, my heart feels like it's about to explode, and my face is as red as an apple.
Then his hand left, and suddenly I felt empty, my hand leaving the sheets. I think if it weren't for the sheets I was holding onto, I would have screamed, screamed with all my might.
He turned me around; this man was so strong, like a god, gently lifting me up and flipping me over without me even feeling it. Turning my head, I saw my husband. I couldn't see his face clearly, but I knew he had seen everything. My husband was still smoking, maintaining the same sitting position.
I don't know if it was shame or excitement, but a certain emotion filled my chest. My man was watching me being played with, and I shamelessly reached orgasm… In my husband, I felt a kind of love; I knew he loved me like this, loved me for indulging my truest self. It was difficult, so I turned my emotions to the sheets. Only then did I realize how sore my fingers were.
He leaned closer, kissing and groping my nipples. He gently stroked my breasts, occasionally lightly caressing my nipples. My nipples were very sensitive; every time he touched one, my whole body trembled, just like when my husband ejaculates.
His face drew closer, a simple face, weathered by time. I suddenly had an urge to kiss him, but wasn't that a foolish thought?
He gently nibbled on my earlobe… Oh my god! Heavy breathing filled my ears, and I felt dizzy. Like a broken doll whose soul had been ripped away, my body had vanished, leaving only the sound of his breathing, the heavy breathing… The dizziness continued, spreading like ripples, then starting again, constantly expanding… This man had found my weakness, my most vulnerable spot. Besides telling me my feet were beautiful, he had found my most vulnerable place.
"Do you like it?" he whispered in my ear. Uncontrollably, I blurted out, "I like it!" I think I still had a sliver of reason left. If this man were my husband, I would have hugged him tightly and shouted, "I love you!"
I could feel his genitals rubbing against my waist, very hard… I thought he was doing it on purpose; perhaps he wanted me? Just then, he reached for my genitals with one hand and gently stroked my hair with the other, saying, "You're so beautiful, really so beautiful… Has anyone told you you're beautiful?"
Then he removed his hand from my hair and gently took my hand, guiding it to touch his genitals through my small underwear. Perhaps it was from shock! This was the first time I had ever touched the genitals of a man other than my husband. I snapped out of my reverie and immediately withdrew my hand. He didn't force me any further, shifting his body away, gently spreading my legs, and began kissing my genitals.
It was a fusion of shame and pleasure. I tried to pull my legs back slightly, leaving them half-open, but he gently pushed them completely apart again, my entire vulva exposed before a stranger. His tongue swirled around my clitoris, while waves of pleasure washed over me…
With the climax, my legs, which had been slightly tense, relaxed completely, and I opened them wide, wanting to get closer, closer… Then I finally made a sound, beginning to moan unrestrainedly. All shame was cast aside; I only knew I wanted more, I wanted him to give me more pleasure.
I don't know if I said "I love you," but I think I at least said "Give me… give me more…" It wasn't because of how beautifully he licked me, but because my legs were open, I was opening my legs to welcome this man.
I was exhausted, almost breathless… He whispered in my ear again. The intertwined pleasures, various different pleasures, with his kisses, made me forget everything… I don't know why I reached out and pulled his penis out of his underwear.
At first, I just gently touched it, feeling its hardness, its throbbing, its thickness. Slowly, I started to go crazy, rubbing it recklessly, my mind only wanting to rub it until it ejaculated, to ejaculate as much semen as possible…
His hand finally entered my vagina, and with the movement of his fingers, I became more and more excited, and I could feel his excitement too. I was so comfortable I was almost going crazy, feeling myself twisting my hips forcefully on the bed, constantly moaning and panting.
The climax came! I arched my back, and almost instantly another climax came… I was so tired, I couldn't hold his alluring penis, and I couldn't arch my back anymore. I was so tired, I don't know how many climaxes I had experienced together… I wanted to kiss him, but I couldn't, I knew I couldn't.
Was it time, or did he think I had had enough? In fact, I was satisfied, although it wasn't the perfect satisfaction of penetration. But I knew that later, when I had a husband, I would want him to penetrate me once or twice, and if my husband refused after the masseur left, I would rape him... But at this moment, all I could think about was the image of the masseur's penis.

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Performing erotic massage in front of her husband

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