I reached climax when my own spa masseuse massaged and abused me.

I've been feeling really tired lately, so I went to a hot spring resort owned by my husband to soak in the hot springs. He'd told me the massages there were good, so I wanted to try it out. After half an hour, I climbed out of the hot springs, wrapped myself in a towel, and went back to my room.

When I got back, a hostess was already waiting for me. Since I'd never been to this property owned by my husband before, and I hadn't mentioned it to him, no one here recognized me; they only knew I was a beautiful, elegant young woman.

"Guest, please have a drink first." Seeing me come in, the hostess handed me a red drink, then closed the back door and drew the curtains. "Please wait a moment, the masseuse will be here shortly."

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

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

"Oh..." I reluctantly went to the bed and awkwardly lay down.

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

"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 elegant white lace panties and prepared to put on my bra, the masseuse smiled and stopped me.

"Sir, you can't wear underwear 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 elegant white lace panties, I lay face down on the bed, inwardly blaming myself for choosing such an embarrassing situation.

The masseuse smiled secretly and covered my lower body with a square white towel.

"Please wait a moment, sir, 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!?" I was startled, my face flushing 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 that I was the chairman's wife, but I didn't know how to say it. 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.

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

The masseur seemed oblivious to my embarrassment, and of course, he wouldn't have guessed that I was the chairman's wife. He stood respectfully by the bed, gently taking my left arm in his hands, his fingers softly kneading the flesh of my arm.

My heart was pounding, and I felt increasingly terrified.

The masseuse's fingers began massaging my left shoulder, then slowly moved downwards—elbow, forearm, wrist, palm, and finally my fingers. Then, she repeated the massage in the opposite direction, returning to my left shoulder.

"Please relax a little, sir," the experienced masseuse said softly, noticing my stiffness. She then gently tapped my left arm with her palms, moving up and down along my hand several times, gradually increasing the pressure. Hearing

her words, my face burned even hotter, and I felt incredibly ashamed. But since she had insisted, I could only try to control my nervousness. I buried my head in the breathable pillow, closed my eyes, and tried to breathe deeply to ease my tension.

Perhaps the masseuse was truly skilled; during the brief massage of my left arm, she quickly found the right pressure based on my body's response. The massage therapist gradually increased the pressure, paying attention to the balance of light and heavy strokes, and accurately applied pressure to the acupoints. Soon, my arm felt a comfortable and pleasant sensation amidst the slight pain.

After stretching and manipulating the five fingers of my left hand, the therapist then took my entire left arm, gently bending and stretching it with the shoulder joint as the center and the elbow as the bending point.

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.

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

At this moment, the massage therapist lowered my left arm, walked around the head of the bed to the other side, gently sat on the edge of the bed, and then reached out to take my right arm and began massaging it. Similarly, my right arm experienced the exact same sensation as my left.

After massaging my arms, the masseur's hands pressed on my shoulders, applying slight pressure and slowly kneading.

Then, with each comfortable groan, 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 sense of worry and shame would rise within me, but I tried my best to control my emotions.

Sometimes I thought to myself that the masseur must have massaged many people, and if I were too shy, I would seem petty and might be laughed at. Having such thoughts surprised even myself; why had I become so concerned about saving face? As a married woman, to have such intimate skin-to-skin contact with a strange man, and to have such willful thoughts, seemed utterly unbelievable to me in my daily life.

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

I vaguely felt that the drink from earlier might have had an aphrodisiac effect, but my brain didn't have time to think about such things. In this relaxing and comfortable feeling, my nerves completely relaxed, my breathing became light and even, and my thoughts began to drift. It wasn't

until a slight pain suddenly came from an acupoint on my back that I became slightly more alert. When I opened my eyes, I realized that the masseuse had somehow climbed onto the bed and was kneeling beside me, massaging my back.

Immersed in the beauty of the massage, I seemed oblivious to these things. I gently exhaled, closed my eyes again, and quietly enjoyed the masseuse's massage. "
Guest
, please lie down properly. The next part is the second section…" The masseuse's voice seemed to drift into my ears from afar, and I gave a soft hum in response.

Just as I was feeling a little giddy, I suddenly felt a chill on my lower body—it turned out the masseuse had lifted the towel covering my lower body.

In my dazed, feverish state, I realized I was only wearing a pair of white lace panties, semi-transparent, tight, and thin. If the masseur lifted my towel, wouldn't he be able to see my private parts and curves 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 the masseur was already straddling my lap, pressing his hands against my full, round buttocks.

"Please, sir, don't move..." the masseur said in a slightly reproachful tone, stopping me from moving.

"How could you..." I tried to say something, but the masseur's hands had already begun to vigorously knead my buttocks and waist.

Was this even a massage...?

I found it unbelievable, and a sudden wave of shame jolted me back to reality. But the masseur was sitting on my lap, and speaking in a reproachful tone; if I got up like this, wouldn't people think I was inconsiderate or ignorant? Perhaps they'd blame me for mistaking someone's good intentions for something bad. But after all, the masseur was touching my sensitive areas; should I just silently let this stranger caress my buttocks?

My mind went blank for a moment, unsure how to react.

Just then, a sharp, piercing pain shot through my groin, and I cried out in pain.

It turned out the masseur 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 caused pain.

"Does it hurt? I'm sorry! Massager, be gentler... like this... look..." Seeing this, the masseur quickly apologized, while gently rubbing my groin with his fingers. At the beautiful curve of my buttocks, in front of the semi-transparent lace crotch, the man's fingers slowly caressed the young woman's 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.

"Guest, your thighs seem a bit stiff..." the masseuse said while massaging. "Is it because your thighs haven't been stimulated, or have they been subjected to any stimulation recently...?"

"No..." Hearing this, my heart skipped a beat. Thinking of what had happened in the past few days, I suddenly felt terrified and hurriedly replied.

"It seems you need more massage here..."

"..."

At this point, I dared not speak again and could only obediently lie on the bed, letting the masseuse massage my legs.

The masseuse opened her palms and wrapped them around my left thigh, kneading the smooth muscles beneath my delicate skin while pressing on the acupoints and nerves on my leg, from the thigh, past the knee, all the way to the calf. Then she gently lifted my ankle, gently rotating my foot, and then lightly scratched my sole with her fingernails. Just as a feeling of comfort was gradually rising in my heart, her hands released my foot and massaged back along the original route, all the way to my thigh. Afterwards, the masseuse's hands covered my buttocks, kneading and squeezing my soft, plump buttocks through my thin lace panties. If the previous actions felt like a massage, then the masseuse's actions now felt more like caresses. Because there aren't many acupoints on the buttocks, and the masseuse's rubbing of my buttocks didn't seem to have much to do with massage.
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However, I was no longer aware of any of this. Ever since the masseuse had massaged my entire left leg from top to bottom, a sweet and warm feeling had gradually grown within me, accumulating more and more, and my heart was subtly changing.

Especially when the masseuse's hands approached my mysterious anus, I felt a tremor and tension in my lower body, and a ripple of heat spread through the deep passage. These sensations traveled through my entire body's nerves to my brain, intermittent and fleeting, until that elusive, pleasurable feeling took over, and all my initial worries and shame vanished.

Was this a massage? So this is what a massage feels like!

The feeling was so strange; I couldn't find the words to describe or praise it. Just then, the masseuse began massaging my right leg.

While I was reveling in the pleasure, the masseuse swiftly removed her white uniform, revealing her bare upper body and tight-fitting athletic shorts. Then, she quickly lifted my right leg, almost without me noticing a pause. My emotions were rising, my state was becoming excited, and I was completely ready for a full-on massage battle.

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

But for such a provocation, I felt absolutely no aversion. My mind was ablaze with desire; in fact, deep down I even longed for these provocations to come again and again.

Noticing my attitude, a sly glint flashed in the masseuse's eyes, and a barely perceptible smile played on her lips. She understood; things had progressed to this point, and tonight she could finally enjoy this reserved yet voluptuous woman to her heart's content.

When her hand returned to my armpit, she suddenly reached forward, cupping the lower edge of my breast from behind. To conceal it, she quickly and lightly scratched the delicate skin along the base of my nipple with her fingers.

"Ah…not there…" I frowned slightly, instinctively twisting my upper body, my reaction barely audible.

"Guest, to let you experience the essence of a hot spring massage..." The masseuse's mouth left my armpits and moved to my chest, licking my stomach while making slurping sounds, "The next service... you must enjoy it while crying... and keep moving your butt..."

"Ah!~~~" I cried out as I felt the masseuse's tongue slide down my abdomen and continue its invasion.

When the masseuse proudly raised her eyes, her gaze fell on my upper body again, looking at my embarrassed face between my high breasts, her tongue had already touched the top edge of my lace panties.

She opened her mouth, bit the top edge of the expensive panties, and gently pulled it down, revealing my thick, dark pubic hair.

Although the panties were still on my lower body, because the masseuse's mouth had torn off a large section of the front of the panties, my pubic hair was completely exposed.

Feeling my pubic hair suddenly exposed to the air, I trembled involuntarily, every nerve seemed to tense up, and I instinctively reached my hands to my genitals. But my hand stopped short of reaching my lower abdomen, as if I had lost my courage.

As a traditional and self-respecting wife, exposing my pubic hair to a stranger, I didn't even have the courage to cover it up. I couldn't explain why I felt this way. But I didn't need to worry about anything afterward, because as my mind grew hotter and hotter, my ability to think gradually faded, and I didn't need to explain why I felt this way at all.

The masseuse, with the edge of my underwear in her mouth, smugly swept her gaze over the thick, dark pubic hair on my vulva. At such close range, she could clearly see the rose-colored valley hidden deep within the pubic hair.

From the engorged and moist labia, the masseuse could already feel the heat and restlessness emanating from the mature body before her.

As I trembled incessantly, the masseuse's tongue moved to the lower part of my breast, lightly and quickly rubbing the lower edge of the nipple with her nose and lips, causing the entire breast to tremble slightly. Those round and firm breasts stood taller than ever before, the red of the areolas expanding, and the nipples were already hard as ice. My chest was like a volcano ready to erupt at any moment due to lust.

"Whoever it is, please frantically play with the masseuse's breasts! And hold onto her ass tightly, and ravage her to your heart's content!" I shouted in my heart.

I was completely overwhelmed by lust.

However, the masseuse wouldn't let me have my way so easily.

Instead of immediately caressing and playing with my breasts, she lightly touched my right nipple with the tip of her tongue while gently pinching and shaking my left nipple with two fingers.

This teasing, playing hard to get, was undoubtedly cruel to a mature young woman. In less than a few seconds, the sensuality hidden deep within my breasts was fully awakened, with a hint of excitement, a hint of pleasure, and a hint of greed. My lust had become so intense that it was beyond my control. Feeling my nipples, which were now even more erect after being numbed and engorged with blood, I trembled and shook my head from side to side, letting out a cry.

Just as I was about to descend into madness, the masseuse's tongue suddenly left my breasts and, with unexpected speed, slid from my lower abdomen to my genitals, finally landing on my silk thong.

Feeling as if I were being tossed into the air, I screamed, my spread thighs taut.

When his tongue reached the soft hair and labia hidden beneath my panties, my screams stopped abruptly, replaced by violent convulsions.

From that moment on, I completely forgot my celebrity status; my mind was filled only with the stranger, the masseur.

His tongue, through my panties, teased my almost fully exposed vulva.

"Ah..."

I tensed my lower body, passionately lifting my hips high off the bed, as if trying to clamp his head between my legs, afraid his lips would leave my precious genitals.

When his tongue, through the silk fabric, reached the clitoris on my vulva and circled it, I convulsed wildly on the bed, a numbing, sweet sensation spreading rapidly from that point to every corner of my body.

With my final, pitiful cry, a gush of hot liquid spurted from my body, splashing onto my thick pubic hair.

Watching me reach climax during foreplay, the masseur, a triumphant smile spreading across his face, removed his shorts.

He straightened up, opened his arms, and pulled me to a sitting position on the bed, drawing me into his embrace. Listening to my moans of climax, he whispered in my ear, "My dear lady, please perk up,
okay ?

" "Oh…massage therapist…" I murmured weakly, leaning against his shoulder, using an incredibly seductive voice.

"Please stand up, and in the most alluring position, remove your underwear…" the masseur said with a smile, "Then, while calling out the name of your husband or your dream lover, and looking at this rod of mine, slowly straddle it…"

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I reached climax when my own spa masseuse massaged and abused me.

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