Wife's friend

Wife's friend
I've been feeling really tired lately, so I went to a hot spring resort owned by my husband for a soak. 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 spring, 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 just knew I was a beautiful, elegant young woman. "Guest, please have a drink first." Seeing me enter, 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 beverage. "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 masseuse noticed my nervousness and said gently, "Please don't be nervous, sir." "Okay..." I blushed. "Please take off your towel, then turn around and lie face down on the bed, okay?" The masseuse's voice was soft, but every word made my heart race. After the masseuse 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 scolding 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 alone in the room, my back bare, lying quietly on the bed. At that moment, I felt an indescribable regret, blaming myself again. Just as I was about to give up, the door was pushed open. With a click, the door closed, and someone walked in. I turned my head and saw the masseur—a young man in his twenties, wearing a white uniform, somewhat like a doctor's coat. "The masseur is a man!?" I was shocked, my face flushing red. Was I supposed to receive a massage from a man while completely naked? I didn't know whether to get up or stay still; 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. "Dear guest, the masseuse will now begin your massage." Hearing the masseuse's gentle voice, I felt a chill run down my bare spine. The masseuse seemed oblivious to my shame, and of course, he wouldn't have guessed 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. My heart pounded faster, 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, he massaged in the opposite direction, returning to my left shoulder. "Guest, would you please relax a little?" Noticing my stiffness, the experienced masseuse spoke softly, simultaneously tapping 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 an overwhelming sense of shame. But since the masseuse insisted, I had no choice but to try my best to control my nervousness. I buried my head tightly in the breathable pillow, closed my eyes, and tried to breathe deeply to relieve 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 reactions. She gradually increased the pressure, paying attention to the combination of light and heavy strokes, and her acupressure points were very accurate. Before long, my arm felt comfortable and relaxed amidst the slight pain. After stretching and manipulating the five fingers of my left hand, the masseuse then took my entire left arm, using the shoulder joint as the center and the elbow as the bending point, gently bending and stretching my left arm. 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. At this moment, the masseuse lowered my left arm, walked around the head of the bed to the other side, gently sat on the edge, and then reached out to hold my right arm, beginning to massage it. My right arm experienced the exact same sensation as my left. After massaging my arm, the masseuse's hands pressed on my shoulders, applying slight pressure and slowly kneading. Then, with each comfortable groan, her hands began to vigorously knead my back, sometimes kneading 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 sensitive areas were touched, such as my armpits or lower back, a trace of worry and shame would rise within me, but I tried my best to control my emotions. Sometimes I think to myself, the masseur must have massaged many people, and if I'm too shy, I'll seem petty and might be laughed at. Even I'm surprised by this thought; why have I become so concerned with saving face? As a married woman, to have such intimate physical contact with a strange man, for me to have such a willful thought is simply unbelievable in my daily life. But at this moment, my brain is slowly swelling and heating up; a flame seems to be burning deep within my cerebral cortex, and my body no longer seems to resist this strange yet intimate contact. Could it be…? I vaguely feel that the drink I just had might have an aphrodisiac effect, but my brain doesn't have time to think about such things. In this relaxing and comfortable feeling, my nerves completely relax, my breathing becomes light and even, and my thoughts begin to drift. It wasn't until a slight pain suddenly came from an acupoint on my back that I became slightly more awake. When I opened my eyes, I realized that the masseur had climbed onto the bed sometime earlier and was kneeling beside me, massaging my back. Lost in the beauty of the massage, I seemed oblivious to these things. I exhaled softly, closed my eyes again, and quietly enjoyed the masseuse's touch. "Please lie down, sir. The next session is..." The masseuse's voice seemed to drift into my ears from afar. I hummed softly in response. Just as I was feeling a little lightheaded, I suddenly felt a chill on my lower body—the masseuse had lifted the towel covering my lower body. My head was spinning, and I realized that I was only wearing white lace panties, which were semi-transparent, tight, and thin. By lifting the towel, the masseuse could see all the secrets and curves of my genitals. "Wait..." I struggled to break free from the pleasurable sensation in my mind, managing to utter just two words, but the masseuse had already straddled my legs and pressed her hands against my plump, round buttocks. "Please don't move, sir..." The masseuse said in a slightly reproachful tone when she saw me trying to get up, stopping me from moving. "How could you..." I tried to say something, but the masseuse's hands had already begun to vigorously rub 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 masseuse was sitting on my lap, and speaking in a reproachful tone. Getting up like this might make me seem inconsiderate or ignorant! Maybe she would even blame me for mistaking her kindness for something bad. But the masseuse was touching my private parts; was I just supposed to 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. It turned out the masseuse was kneading the main tendon in my groin. Perhaps she was using too much force, or perhaps my thighs weren't used enough, but the pressure caused pain. "Does it hurt? I'm sorry! Massage therapist, be gentle... like this... look..." Seeing this, the masseuse quickly apologized, while gently massaging my inner thighs with her 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. "Sir, your thighs seem a bit stiff..." the masseuse said while massaging, "Is it because your thighs haven't been stimulated before, or have your legs been stimulated recently...?" "No..."Hearing this, my heart skipped a beat. Thinking of what had happened in the past few days, I suddenly felt terrified and hastily replied, "Looks like I need more massages 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, encircling my left thigh, kneading the smooth muscles beneath my delicate skin while pressing the acupoints and nerves on my leg, from the thigh, past the knee, down to the calf. Then she gently lifted my ankle, gently rotating my foot, and then lightly scratching my sole with her fingernails. Just as a feeling of comfort was gradually rising within me, her hands released my foot and massaged back along the same path, all the way to my thigh. Afterward, the masseuse's palms covered my buttocks, and through the thin lace panties, she repeatedly pinched and kneaded my soft, plump buttocks. If the previous actions were like a massage, then the masseuse's actions now felt more like caresses. Because there aren't many acupoints on the buttocks, and the masseur's rubbing of my buttocks didn't seem to have much to do with massage. However, at that moment, I was no longer aware of any of this. Ever since the masseur had massaged my entire left leg from top to bottom, a sweet and warm feeling had gradually grown and accumulated in my heart, and my inner self was also subtly changing. Especially when the masseur's hands approached my mysterious rear passage, I felt a tremor and tension in my lower body, and ripples appeared in the deep tunnel, a honey-like heat. These sensations traveled through my entire body's nerves to my brain, intermittent and ethereal, until that elusive yet pleasurable feeling occupied my brain, and the initial concerns and shame had long been thrown to the winds. Is this massage? So this is what massage feels like! This feeling is so strange that I couldn't find the words to describe or praise it. And just then, the masseur began massaging my right leg. Just now, as 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 grasped my right leg, almost without me noticing the pause. My emotions were rising, my state of excitement was rising, and I was completely ready for a passionate massage battle. Then, the masseuse seemed to intentionally slow down the massage, leisurely manipulating my right leg. My consciousness was completely focused on the masseuse's hands; with each movement, my emotions rose and fell. When the masseuse's hands returned to my buttocks, freely playing with my noble hips and expensive underwear, I almost fainted from the intense stimulation. The increasingly intense stimulation made my lower body feel like it was burning; my vagina was already secreting copious amounts of love fluid, the moist mucus even flowing onto my engorged labia. If I were still conscious at this point, I would have noticed that my thin lace panties were already soaked with the mucus from my genitals and the sweat from my body. The already semi-transparent material was practically useless after being soaked; I should even have realized that the masseuse was now fully exposed to my most mysterious genital area, covered by fine hair. However, the overall comfort and sensual stimulation had completely clouded my mind, and coupled with the effects of the drink, I only felt my body getting hotter and hotter, and my head getting increasingly swollen.

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