Performing erotic massage in front of her husband

My name is Juanjuan. 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 seeing some explicit 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 real 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, and during sex, we try a little something extra—sexual fantasies or props. Occasionally, we read erotic novels online… Honestly, I always felt those novels were written for men, or by men pretending to be women—they're all about things that would 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 sex almost every day, and I felt particularly aroused. But honestly, even my husband admitted that it wouldn't be 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? What if you talk to your friends? Seriously, do you want to lose face forever?

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 once the excitement is over… 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 those thoughts occasionally is okay, but in real life, that's practically suicide. Since my husband keeps pestering me, I'm also willing to try it.

Actually, every woman has this thought of having a fling with another man, not because she doesn't love her husband or is sexually unsatisfied, but simply because she wants to take a risk. I think my husband thinks the same way. Taking a risk is one thing, but it must be within a controllable range. Who's stupid enough to jump out of a plane without a parachute?

After that massage, our sex life did reach unprecedented levels of passion for six months, but that was just a side effect, like you can't just take the lead in 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 afterward. But because my husband didn't care at all, and instead, he pretended to be the masseur every time we made love afterward, 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 the newspaper. That damn guy had already drawn a bunch of red circles on it. My husband's idea was that he'd heard some massage therapists cater to both men and women, so he wanted to be able to choose one. I didn't want to get involved at all; just thinking about finding a massage was enough to make me incredibly nervous, let alone have the energy for this 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 of him.

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 also massaged men, etc. Finally, my husband even asked if the therapist offered the full service! I was anxious to stop my husband's nonsense, but I didn't dare say anything… It seemed like the other person hesitated for a moment, and I don't know what they said to my husband.

After hanging up, I got angry. My husband explained gently that he just wanted to confirm if the massage 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 I felt embarrassed, my husband liked it anyway, and—to be honest—I had a strange urge to try the pleasure offered by other men.

My husband said this guy was quite expensive, so expensive it hurt, and then he smiled ambiguously and said, "With such a high price, he might actually have some real skills!" This masseur didn't charge by the session; he just did what you felt was enough. 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 man hesitated for a long time before saying, "These things depend on how you feel! If my wife feels it..." I warned my husband again, "That's all we have. Don't think about anything else!" That day, I even wore sexy see-through lingerie. When we got to the hotel, my husband called the man again, and the man 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 such a mess that I couldn't think of anything and didn't dare to move. My husband was the same, chain-smoking, filling the room with smoke. I knew he was nervous too.

When the doorbell rang, I almost jumped up. I frantically asked him, "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. All I heard was my husband's unusually dry voice saying, "My wife is very ticklish, so..." The masseur first expressed his regret, then went on to boast about his skills. I didn't hear a word he said; all I could think about was where to look to avoid being impolite. Maybe I should close my eyes? But this masseur was very polite... hmm! If you're also looking for a massage to relax, I suggest you get a feel for his attitude over the phone first.

"Juanjuan... um, do you mind if I wear clothes?" The masseuse hinted in a gentle tone, "The oil massage will get you dirty!" I started taking off my bra under the sheet, and hesitated when taking off my panties... not because I was hesitant about whether I should take them off, but since I was here, and they were here, there was no reason not to. I was thinking that my movements would be clearly visible through the thin sheet, so how could I take them off gracefully? To be honest, I still don't know if I took them off gracefully.

Although I was covered by the sheet, I was completely naked, and I felt a mix of fear, nervousness, and excitement. But this sheet only needed to be lifted slightly... 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 time, the masseuse also started taking off his clothes. He explained 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 panties. I didn't pay special attention, but I still caught a glimpse. His buttocks were firm, and combined with his physique, they looked very powerful; as for that area… it felt bulging, not unlike my husband's.

Then he asked 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 enjoying this, or is he enjoying it?

The masseur slowly lifted the sheet off me. 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 cold on my skin. "You have a great figure, such fair skin, your husband is so lucky!" The masseur's voice was very soft. His whisper made me feel like I was doing something incredible behind my husband's back, but the room was actually small, and I knew my husband could definitely hear me.

His compliments, though perhaps just a professional habit, were still comforting to hear, and my shyness began to disappear. I've said before, women live by their feelings.

He started by massaging 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 in his underwear next to me, so good that I forgot I was naked, so good that I almost fell asleep.

Just as I was relaxing, the masseur's hands moved down to my back. Massaging my shoulders was fine, but as it went down, I started to feel ticklish... I'm really ticklish; whenever I'm angry or upset, my husband uses tickling to deal with me. Honestly, I don't know which part of my body isn't ticklish.

Although it tickled, I was too embarrassed to say it; you know, women are afraid of being laughed at. I think I shifted slightly; this man is quite perceptive, he noticed even the slightest movement! He asked me softly, "Does it tickle?" I gently hummed in response.

His voice was so gentle, and he was so attentive. My initial shyness almost completely disappeared, leaving only trust, just like my trust in my husband. Of course, a large part of it was also because I was lying face down; it seemed that hiding my face increased my sense of security.

His hands continued to massage and slowly move downwards. When they reached my waist, I chuckled. Hearing my laughter, he laughed too, and all the tension in the room vanished. It was a very special experience; when you expose your flaws and find that the other person doesn't care, the relationship between the two of you immediately becomes very close.

So I told him that I was ticklish, especially my waist… Talking to him was a very natural thing, like telling my beautician what kind of hairstyle I wanted. This relaxation only lasted a second, because when his hands left my waist and slid to my buttocks…

He didn't rush to do anything. First, he poured some lotion on my buttocks and then started massaging them. Several times I felt he was about to touch my genitals, so close, but as if he had accidentally pulled away with an apologetic air. I knew he would eventually touch there, but I was still afraid; some things you can never get used to.

With a mix of nervousness and anticipation, his hand left my buttocks and moved down again. On one hand, I was disappointed that he had given up on doing something "serious," and on the other hand, I started to worry that the itchy nerves in 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 meant it, at least I felt it; it felt like my whole life.

Then he started kissing my legs, and even held my instep to stroke his cheek, as if he had discovered the most beautiful treasure in the world... At first, I resisted and tried 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. He pulled me back and kissed me, 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 first kiss and caresses with my husband, 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 at least a third of any sex education book you can find contains errors.

Time seemed to stretch on forever. I was completely immersed in a feeling of being moved, not even noticing his hand moving between my thighs. When he touched my genitals, I realized how large his hand was—large, yet delicate. He didn't directly violate my most intimate area, but merely stroked back and forth between my thighs, occasionally and seemingly unintentionally touching the cleft between my buttocks before immediately moving away, a fleeting touch that made me feel my whole body relax and dissolve. It still wasn't pleasure, 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 cried out, but I felt like a small boat drifting on a gentle ocean, suddenly struck by lightning… I realized I was already wet; his touch made me feel that my clitoris was already covered in love juice, his fingers easily sliding and teasing it. Every muscle in my body was awakened, and I uncontrollably arched my hips, but he remained gentle, unhurried, and unconcerned.

The first pleasure came slowly; besides gripping the sheets tightly, I couldn't do anything. This surging pleasure refused to subside, not like the waves people describe, but more like a tsunami—you never know where it will end.

His hands were so light, so natural as he penetrated me. I could hear the sound of my own body, like waves crashing against rocks… I tried to remain silent, but my body wouldn't cooperate. I wanted to roll, to leap, but my body sank 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, perhaps I already was… but his gentleness wouldn't let me go.

I didn't know I could be so wet; it was like a dam bursting, unstoppable. Actually, there was no need for sex, no need for any physical contact. Now, sitting here recalling the lewd sounds my lower body made back then, 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 completely empty, my hand also leaving the sheets. I think, if it weren't for the sheets I had to hold onto, I would have screamed with all my might.

He turned me around. This man was incredibly strong, like a god, gently lifting and flipping me over without me even realizing 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 didn'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… I felt a kind of love from my husband; I knew he loved me like this, loved me for indulging my truest self. But it was difficult; I could only turn my emotions to the sheets. Only then did I realize how sore my fingers were.

He leaned closer, kissing my nipples and groping them. He gently stroked my breasts, occasionally lightly touching my nipples. My nipples were very sensitive; every time he touched one, my whole body trembled, just like my husband trembled when he ejaculated.

His face drew closer, a simple face bearing the marks of time. I suddenly felt an urge to kiss him, but wasn't that a foolish thought?

He gently nibbled at my earlobe… Oh my god! Heavy breathing filled my ear, and I felt dizzy. Like a broken doll whose soul had been ripped away, my body had vanished, leaving only that heavy breathing… The dizziness persisted, 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 said, "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 lower body rubbing against my waist, very hard… I think 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, so very beautiful... Has anyone told you you're beautiful?" Then he removed his hand from my hair and gently took my hand to touch his genitals through my small underwear. Perhaps it was shock! This was the first time I'd 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 and gently spreading my legs, beginning to kiss 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 open again, my entire vulva exposed before a strange man. His tongue swirled around my clitoris, and waves of pleasure washed over me… With the climax, my legs, which had been slightly tense, completely relaxed and opened wide. I leaned towards him, wanting to get closer and 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 his licking was so beautiful, but because my legs were open, I was opening my legs to welcome this man.

I was exhausted, almost breathless… He returned to my ear. The intertwined pleasures, all sorts of different pleasures, with his kisses, I forgot 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, feeling the throbbing of his penis, its thickness. Slowly, I started to go crazy, rubbing and kneading recklessly. All I could think about was making him ejaculate, ejaculating lots and lots of semen… His hand finally penetrated my genitals. With each movement of his fingers, I became more and more excited, and I could feel his excitement too. I felt so good I was going crazy, writhing my hips on the bed, moaning and panting.

An orgasm came! I arched my back, and almost instantly another orgasm came… I was so tired, I couldn't hold onto his alluring penis, and I couldn't arch my back anymore. I was so tired, I didn't know how many orgasms I had experienced… I wanted to kiss him, but I couldn't, I knew I couldn't.

Was it time, or did he think I was done? Actually, I was satisfied, although it wasn't the perfect satisfaction of penetration. But I knew that later I had a husband, and I would want him to penetrate me once or twice. After the masseur left, if my husband refused, I would rape him… But at this moment, my mind was filled with the image of the masseur's penis.

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Performing erotic massage in front of her husband

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