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Massage Therapist & Gigolo

Male masseuse rubbing, erotic story, gigolo

Erotic Story Submitted By Anonymous Guest Author

The oil was warming in a bowl of hot water. I was especially proud of the oil. I had blended it myself - vitamin E oil in which I had steeped vanilla beans and added an eyedropper of ylang-ylang. The two foam mats were laid side by side on the floor, making a double bed, and the sheet was spread over them.

The room was my studio, wooden floors, stained glass windows, and a bookshelf containing Japanese pillow books and a small stereo. There were Persian Prints on the wall.

Everything was ready.

The doorbell rang.

Gathering my robe around me, I went to the front door. It was Carrie, long black hair across her shoulders. Her smile, when she saw me, was quick, and her eyes sparkled with anticipation.
"Am I early?" she asked.

"Nah, "I replied. "I've just finished setting the space up. Come on in." I opened the door wide, and she passed me into the hallway, her perfume just noticeable beneath the sense of fresh air that she brought with her through the entrance.

"Same place?"

"Yup. Just go on through." I said.

She walked down the hall and into the studio. As she reached the door, she glanced back over her shoulder with a little grin.

"I've been waiting for this all week," she said, and her grin became wider.

I followed her into the room and closed the door. I went to the stereo and put my favorite sensual CD on the player, Ancient Egypt, by Ali Jihad Racy. It had originally been commissioned for the King Tut Exhibition and is gentle and ethereal, allowing one to drift.

Carrie began to undress. Of all the beautiful sights in the world, a woman undressing is the most magnificent. Each time is like the very first.

She pulled her T-shirt over her head, tossing it to the floor. She wore no bra - she needed none. Her breasts were high, yet full, and she carried them with comfort. Each brown nipple stood erect as if the air was cool.

She sat on a chair and pulled off her jeans. She wore simple cotton panties, which, standing, she removed, one leg at a time. Her black pubic bush was thick and large and seldom trimmed. It started several inches below her navel and almost reached her hips at the top corners before narrowing over her pubic mound, shielding her pussy beneath its tangled thicket.

She lay on her stomach on the mats and waited quietly.

I removed my robe. I was naked, and my cock was half-tumescent in anticipation of what lay ahead.

I walked over to the table and picked up the now warm bottle of massage oil. Sitting on the mat beside Carrie, I began to drizzle just a little on to her dancer's back, soft and supple, but muscular and strong.

Placing the bottle on the floor, I began to work the oil into her back. The nice thing about vitamin E oil is that if you use too much, the excess is absorbed into the skin, leaving a film smooth enough to avoid snags and yet fine enough to allow skin on skin friction, creating warmth.

I began at the back of Carrie's neck. Her hair was spread in front of her leaving the nape exposed. Gently, I worked at the cords of muscle on either side and into the little canyon at the base of the skull. This was not the time for real neck work, however, and I moved to her shoulders and mid-back. The oil began to emit its warm fragrance.

"Oooomph!" she sighed. "I'm really tense there."

As I worked down her back along the paravertebrals, I mixed the vertical strokes with long diagonals from her ribcage and the sides of her breasts. She began to settle in, and my hands felt the release of tension. She was beginning to drift on the music, the warmth, the touch as I worked slowly down to her sacral dimples.

I moved back to her shoulders and mid-back, using my forearms to lengthen the stroke and cover a larger area. It is necessary for me to ensure that the parts of the body feel part of the whole. Our social mores and clothing seem to divide the body into "nice" bits and "naughty" bits. To me, they are all divine and must be treated as such.

I reached again for the oil. Pouring some into my hand, I replaced the bottle on the floor and began to anoint Carrie's classically beautiful bottom, firm but with a delicate softness that invited touch. I gently parted her cheeks and let just a drop or two lands on her anus. Her legs parted slightly, revealing just a bit of her pussy in the furze of her pubic hair.

I parted her legs a bit further, and she moved easily. She had been here before. I settled myself between her legs and began to massage the oil into her buttocks, one cheek at a time, with smooth, firm strokes. I leaned forward into the strokes, so that was almost as if I were embracing them. I separated them with my hands as I worked and allowed my fingertips to just brush her anus without quite penetrating the winkled pink/brown orifice.

Carrie's breathing changed, becoming slower and deeper, yet at the same time, I sensed the beginnings of her arousal. I became fully erect and allowed the tip of my cock just to graze the crack of her ass as I worked. The ylang-ylang became more pronounced in response to her body heat.

It was time to move to the backs of her thighs. I spread more oil and began to work it into her skin, especially at the point where the inner tendons met her pussy. I did not touch it directly, though. In massage, the more a part of the body is ignored, the more it craves to be touched. I let the tension build.

I then "reconnected" Carrie's thighs to her bottom using long strokes, and allowed my fingertips to again brush her anus. With feather touch, I just glanced off the perineum in passing and returned to the backs of her legs.

The ylang-ylang began to blend with Carrie's own scent, and my breathing became unsteady as I responded viscerally to the intoxicating mix of odors. I paused to regain control before I moved on. My glans had sprouted a tiny drop of anticipation, and Ancient Egypt floated effortlessly through the airy stained glass-tinted sun as it flowed across Carrie's lovely naked body.

There are major nerve centers just above the backs of the knees, and I spent a little time opening them up, careful to ensure that all was "connected" before I moved on, taking care to just touch the perineum lightly again.

Carrie has a dancer's long legs as well as the back, and her calf muscles were firm as I kneaded the tension out of them, taking care never to pinch or push. My technique is gentleness.

To massage her feet, I moved down, still kneeling between her legs with a full view of her pussy peeking out from between the dark forest of hair. The lips were slightly parted. I lifted one foot, bending the leg at the knee and worked gently at it. She was relaxed because the knee was supported by the mat. She held no resistance. I rested her shin against my chest and worked gently, separating each toe and then moved to the ankle, bending it almost to the limit of its range of motion. I repeated this with the other foot.

Again I joined the parts, stroking, warming her, and inhaled deeply her heady mix of perfumes. My cock stirred, and Ali Jihad Racy played on. Carrie's breathing was deep and slow.

I rested for several minutes with one hand resting on her leg and allowed us both to settle. My cock began to subside, but we both knew that this was merely intermission.

"Ready to turn over?" I asked, somewhat huskily, but very much under control, I thought.

Carrie gave a muffled grunt in response and rolled over, exposing her lovely breasts and lushly thatched pubic mound. Was that a tiny pearl of moisture between her legs glistening in the sunlight? My breathing quickened, and my cock gave a randy little twitch but laid low for the time being.

I began by again drizzling oil over her breasts and stomach with its deep longitudinal navel. An Arab friend of mine once said, "Only men have flat stomachs. A woman should fit into the curve of the palm of your hand." Carrie's was perfect. She had the well-toned definition from the ribs and down her sides, leaving a sweet roundness in the center. The abdomen then buried itself under her luxuriant pubis between her thighs.

I moved around to the head of the mats and knelt above Carrie's head. Her eyes were closed, and she could not see that my cock was on the verge of standing out over her composed face.

I reached underneath her head and began to knead her neck muscles properly, using the weight of her head to apply just the right amount of pressure. I then stroked her throat, her cheeks and lips, bending close to hear the measured sound of her breathing. I nuzzled her earlobes.

Her eyes opened, and she gave a sly smile and reaching up, touched my barely controlled cock, which gave up the fight, and sprang warmly to attention. "Naughty, naughty." She smiled and closed her eyes.

I returned to her side and began slow spiral strokes over her stomach, breasts, and pubic mound. I let each nipple slide between my thumb and forefinger. When they reached the joint at my palm, I applied just a smidgeon of pressure. Carrie inhaled sharply. Was that a tremor in her thighs?

I moved my ministrations to her verdant mound and poured oil more heavily. The patch was thick and would need much oil to penetrate it.

Carrie's legs were open, and I could see her pink lips shining wetly between the strands of hair. I leaned over and gently nuzzled the top of the slit. I smelled the oil mixed with the darker, more ancient musk of aroused female, and my little amphibian brain, along with the larger primate one, could resist no longer. My tongue reached out and teased the top of her hooded clit.

"S-s-s-s-s-t!" she hissed and opened her legs wider. I prodded her clit further with my tongue and felt it stir into action, rising to meet my touch. I began to suck on it as if it were a cock, and Carrie began to moan softly, almost humming.

I probed lower into her pussy, using long licks from the clit down through the cleft into the deeper reaches of her. She grabbed my head and pulled me harder to her, grinding her pussy frantically against my mouth and teeth. "Oh God, yes!" she groaned. "That's it! That's it!"

I raised my head and dripping beard from her crotch and said, "Turn over."

She did, exposing her lovely ass and pussy to me. I leaned forward and began probing the crack of her ass with my tongue. I heard wordless cries as Carrie raised herself fully to me. Gingerly, I inserted my tongue into her tight little orifice as she began to bounce up and down on the mats.

I slid lower into her pussy and used my tongue like a cock, going as deep as I possibly could into her body. Inarticulate grunts were my reward.

Finally, Carrie could stand no more. She rolled suddenly on to her back and pulled my face once again into her very wet, greedy pussy. "Eat me, dammit!" she ordered desperately.

I began again licking her now prominent clit, moving the hood from around it with the tip of my tongue. She was beyond the power of speech, emitting only feral grunts. At the same time I reached around and delicately began to insert my finger into her moistened anus. She thrashed. Slowly I worked it in until I felt the sphincter relax, and I slowly pushed to the second knuckle. I felt her contractions begin. As they mounted, I ever so slowly began to withdraw my finger in time to the contractions.

"Oh, God! Don't stop! Don't stop! I'm coming!" Carrie groaned. Her orgasm built stage up on stage, and with my free hand, I could feel the tension and beginning tremors in her abdomen. At the very pinnacle of her pleasure, I suddenly pulled my finger from her ass and gave three fast sucks on her clit. Her orgasm broke in waves of intense spasming and my mouth on her pussy rode the waves with fiendish glee, never releasing her clit until her animal groans melted into the silence of the afternoon.

"Whoosh!" Carried panted at my drenched face. "That was terrific! I'm totally wasted, too wasted to do you."

"That's okay." I smiled. "Besides, I enjoy your orgasms almost as much as you."

We lay together in the stained glass light while Ali Jihad Racy played quietly, two happy primates suffused in a sexual glow. The scent of superb sex suffused the air as the afternoon began its slow drowse towards evening.

"What time is it?" Carrie asked sleepily.

"I don't know. Maybe 4:30." I replied.

"Shit! I'm late!" she said, "I've got to get home and make dinner."

She rose unsteadily from our oil-dampened sheet and headed for the bathroom, bundling her clothes as she went. I heard the shower running as I lay there, bathed in her glow and wonderful juices.

When she emerged ten minutes later, Carrie's hair was brushed and glossy, and you couldn't tell that not half an hour earlier, she'd been a woman in glorious rut driven by the demands of her mindless furrow. She gave me a lingering kiss and asked, "Same time next week?"

"I'll be here," I said.

With that, she was out the door and back to her regular life in the Valley, and mine was content in the life of a gigolo.
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