A Non-Relaxing Massage

A moment later though, I found out I was wrong about that being the end of the conversation, because Lin asked, "So, why no girlfriend then?"

I squirmed mentally, although I didn't allow myself to do so physically, and answered, "No reason... I just don't date much."

I was trying to back out of this conversation, but she pursued, "Oh, come on, you can't possibly have trouble finding girls." Another mental squirm.

Finally, I don't know why, I blurted out the truth, "I just... have trouble asking women out. I don't know..."

She didn't say anything more than "Ah" to that, and let the conversation drop. Her hands moved off my arm then, so she could move elsewhere on my body and, relieved, I buried my face on my hands again, to get my arms out of her way. I never saw the gleam that went through her eyes then, the decision that hit her. I don't know what I would have done if I did, but I'm glad I didn't. Silence fell between us, slightly heavy with the awkwardness of the conversation that had broken off, but eased somewhat by the fact that she was working at the moment, and therefore occupied.

The feel of the massage changed noticbly after that. I thought it was all in my head though, that talking of my lack of a love life had me fantasizing. When her hands returned to my back, they worked their way down in little circles, an action not much different than before. But where before they'd been relaxing, now they seemed to set me on fire. It was all I could do to keep from shifting around on the table as her fingers worked from my shoulders down the sides of my back, to the small of my back right above the towel. I felt myself begin to grow hard, and made a futile wish for it to stop.

She worked at my lower back for a while, and all the while I was in mental anguish. It wasn't too comfortable physically either, since I was lying on top of a now raging erection. Her hands left me again for a while then, and I heard her putting more baby oil on them. She started on the back of my legs then, working up from my calves.

Her fingers, strong, skilled, worked at the back of my legs. I managed to relax a bit at that point, my calves aren't exactly an erogenous zone. She did get the muscles there to loosen up, which felt great in a non-sexual way, then moved further up. She started working on the back of my knees and I had to stop her. "Lin, could you move up a little? I'm just too ticklish there." It was the truth, too.

Then she started on the back of my thighs, and it was all I could do not to make noises that would have let her know my enjoyment when a little beyond what's appropriate for a public massage parlor. Her hands moved slowly up the back of my thighs, and at some point she asked me to spread my legs a little. I was very happy for the towel at that point. Her hands kept climbing, and the farther up they went the less relaxed I was. She got to the bottom edge of the towel then and informed me she was going to remove it. That stopped my mind in its tracks. I turned a little and craned my neck around to look at her.

"What? Why? Charlie never did more than move it off the spot he was working on right at the moment."

She smiled that dazzling smile of hers and said, "I told you, I work a little different than he did. I find it easier to just move it completely off. Besides, it's just your ass." The way she said it left me little room to argue without feeling like a fool, so I didn't. She moved the towel, leaving me uncovered completely, my only semblance of modesty kept by the fact I was on my stomach. Her hands started to knead my ass, rubbing and pressing in what I'm almost sure could have been an extremely effective massage if my whole body hadn't gone tense. After a few minutes of this, with my body starting to finally relax a little, she started to move back down onto my legs. This time, instead of working on both legs at once, she focused on just one for a deeper massage. Her hands stated sliding down from the bottom curve of my ass, working the muscles at the back and sides of my thigh. Just as I was starting to relax enough to enjoy that, I felt the backs of her hand brush, just for a moment, against the back of my balls. I jumped. I couldn't help it.

She asked, "What's wrong?" Her voice sounded so innocent I was sure she must not have realized what she just touched.

Wanting to keep it that way, I answered, "Nothing, just hit a tender spot." I'm a terrible liar, but I thought that sounded like a sufficiently deceptive version of the truth.

It had an unforeseen, by me anyway, consequence though. She said, "I'll try to work it out for you then. Her hand returned to a place on my thigh that, if I had been thinking clearer, I would have realized would have been easier to get to if she'd waited for me to roll over. Instead, I got treated to an occasional brush of her arm against my balls, and was starting to think I'd explode. Not in the way you might think, either, I mean explode with pure frustration, not make a mess of the towel under me.

Finally, mercifully, her hands started moving further down towards my knee, and gave me a reprieve. When she started working her way back up the other side, I was ready, and when her arm brushed against my sack again, I didn't flinch.

I was proud of myself for all of about a minute, because then she announced that she was done with my back. She said, "OK, Dave, roll over so I can work on your front."

Utter panic ensued. I had what I honestly think was the hardest erection of my life, and I was about to run out of ways to hide it. I said, desperately, "The towel?"

She just said, "Here," and placed it by my side. Then she said, "I'll turn around, let me know when you're ready." I rolled over onto my back, and grabbed the towel that had previously covered my ass. I tried valiantly to cover up, but to know avail. Try as I might, I couldn't find a way to situate things that made it anything other than obvious what state I was in.

I tried everything I could think of, trying to picture the most unattractive thing I could imagine to get it to go down, but my mind betrayed me and kept focusing instead on the perfect ass in a blue skirt that was no more than 4 feet from me. Finally, I must have taken too long, and she asked, "Dave? Are you ready for me yet?" I was, but not in the way I thought she meant.

Steeling myself for the fact that I anticipated being thrown out of the spa in the near future, I said, "Um, Lin? I'm covered, but..." She turned around at that point, and I gave her a horribly embarrassed smile, trying to show her that I considered this a betrayal by my own body." I was propped up by my arms, upper body curled slightly, and obscenely lifted towel covering without hiding what, at that moment, was my most prominent feature. Her eyes started at my face and swept down, taking in the whole picture.

I saw something flash across her features, and I thought at the time it was anger, the look had that sort of intensity to it. I thought she was just hiding it well when her eyes returned to my face and she offered me a smile so warm that it made my heart ache. She shook her head, "Dave, don't worry about it. This sort of thing happens all the time. It's involuntary. Just relax, lay back, and I'll finish your massage."

At that point I was confused, as well as relieved, at her reaction. But I believed her words, so tried to comfort myself with the thought that if it was no big deal to her, it should be no big deal to me. It didn't help, but I laid back anyway. She started on my arms gain, and it seemed to me she was taking an inordinate amount of time on my biceps, but I wasn't complaining. It meant she wasn't touching anything that would be even more nerve-wracking. I closed my eyes, trying to relax and enjoy the massage. It felt like my dick was still pointing up like a ship's mast, but I couldn't do a damn thing about it, so I tried to ignore it.

She went to my stomach then, fingers working over the washboard created by more sit-ups then I care to dwell on. She kept working up and down across them, and once again it was all I could do to keep from making a complete fool out of myself. I wanted nothing more right then than to jump up off the table, rip her skirt off, and satisfy the need that was burning through me. But that's an urge I'd never follow, not with someone who I wasn't already in a relationship with. Rape is not my style. That didn't keep me from imagining it, though even in my inner fantasies she was a willing participant. So, instead of following that fantasy, I laid there, trying to keep still, trying to relax. My eyes squeezed shut, trying to shut out the world.

I felt, rather than saw, as she put a knee up on the table for leverage as she started to kneed at the large muscles of my pectorals, starting from the collarbone and working her way down. Whatever else this might have been, it was still a massage given by a true professional. After a few minutes, during which she'd very thoroughly massaged my chest, she pulled away and said, "Dave... we're both adults here.... Can I please move this towel? It'll be in my way in a few minutes, and, honestly, it's distracting. It looks like a circus tent."

Opening my eyes and glancing down, I had to admit a certain resemblance. But I still hesitated. Some part of me more attuned to women, the part of me usually shouted down by rational thought when a situation had the potential to turn down a path that could lead to sex, a part of me more willing to take risks, urged me to let her do it. And, for once, I listened. Of course, I didn't listen hard enough, and that part of me was out of practice, or I might have realized that my chances were way more than the slim hopes I thought they were.

I nodded, and watched as she reached down and slid the towel off of me. For a moment, the friction of the towel sliding over my hard and over-sensitized member was almost too much. I don't think I showed it though, except maybe for a little squirming as the towel was pulled away. I watched her face, and for the life of me couldn't understand why she had a satisfied little smile when she saw my erection, now unrestrained, curving up towards my navel. She put the towel to the side and said, "That's better." Then she started on my legs.

Her fingers pressed and probed at one of my quads while I laid back and tried to relax again. I had to admit, it was more comfortable with the towel gone, the cool air of the room free to circulate around my genitals. If I had just been lying there, I'm sure my erection would have slowly subsided, but every once in a while something in the massage, a lighter touch, a brush of her fingers, something, would be enough to keep me hard and ready. I had the depressing thought that the most powerful state of arousal I'd ever had was going to go to waste, but resigned myself to that 'fact'. She got down to my ankle, and then started up the other leg. I happened to glance at the clock at that point, and noticed that it was 8:20. Not accounting for the argument in the hallway, that meant I had ten minutes of this pleasurable torture left. Then I could leave.

It took her a few minutes to get up the other leg, and as she worked, I had to close my eyes. Watching her intently working at the massage, her head only about two feet or less from my crotch, was entirely too much. She decided that that point would be a good time to strike up a conversation again. "You know, I feel like I've let you down here, it looks like I've made you more tense instead of less."

It was absolutely true, but I didn't want to come right out and say it, so I said, "No, you've been great, you've got amazing hands, and you did all you could to make me comfortable..." She interrupted me then, with a smile. . It was devious, amused, and seductive in a way that left no room for innocence. It was that smile that finally made all the pieces click into place, the conversation over whether I had a girlfriend. The 'accidental' touches of my balls. Even the fact that her touch had lingered longer than necessary on my biceps, chest, and abs.

She was enjoying herself at my expense. She was teasing me. All the little touches that had gone into making me so aroused were done intentionally, it was more than a lack of self control that had me so hard.

It was a stunning blow when all that hit me, but I didn't have time to consider the ramifications. I didn't have time to get angry, and I'm glad I didn't, because I probably would have ruined the moment. Because the next thing she did was lean over, and look down at me. She smiled broader and said, "You know... we've got very strict rules about how we can, and how we can't, touch a client. I'm about to break all of them." She leand in then, and brought her lips to mine.

For a moment I was too stunned to react, then I started to kiss back. I was desperate, hungry for her touch at that point, her touch without the pretense of a massage. I brought one arm up and put it around her, holding her to me while I kissed her. It was about as enthusiastic as a kiss can get without pressing the use of tongue, which I didn't want to do on the first kiss, regardless of the situation. Why I shied from being too forward at that point, I don't know. The kiss broke when I felt one of those strong hands of hers, still slick with baby oil, wrap around my erection, thumb and forefinger around the base of the shaft, her fingers splayed across my balls. All thought in my head stopped momentarily and I let out a gasp.

She pulled away a little and smiled at me. A squeeze around my erection punctuated her words to let me know what she was talking about, "Now, this is definitely my fault. The only question is what we're going to do about it." She kissed me again, light and quick, not giving me time to latch on, and added, "Or, better yet, what we're going to with it."

The mind does strange things in extraordinary situations. Well, mine does at least. Time seemed to slow down, to stretch seconds into minutes like a movie advancing one frame at a time. At the same time, I became hyper-alert to my surroundings, noticing the smallest details, and yet my mind seemed to wander, reflecting for a few moments on the series of events that lead me to where I was at that moment. Things weren't in a logical sequence, they just flashed before me like photographs in a box, unconnected except that they show the same people. Memories were interspersed with the observations of my present situation.

Sensations filled me. The feeling of Lin's hand, still slick with the oil she used for the massage, holding my manhood in her strong grip was the one thing I never lost track of through all the other things that followed. I noticed her face. I had only known her an hour, so I didn't know her well enough to read her expression perfectly, but it struck me that she didn't look nervous. I could see other things on those flawless features.

My eyes traced the high cheekbones, the small nose, the slanted eyes that were, along with her hair, about the only things that showed her (I found out later, half-) Chinese heritage. She had a stronger jaw line than most Asians I've met, and a more expressive mouth, but that mouth was quirked in a little smile that seemed to signal amusement and anticipation, not trepidation. The flush on her skin seemed to be more about excitement than anything else. You'd expect someone who just announced that their current actions could get them fired would be a little more nervous.

My mind flashed back to the argument in the hallway and I wondered, in a flash of insight that still surprises me, if maybe other rules had been broken that night, like the common-sense one that wouldn't allow (for reasons of sexual harassment suits as well as safety in the case of less scrupulous customers) her to be the only person around with a naked male client. Maybe, just maybe, there wasn't anyone around to catch us.

Lin leaned over me, smiling down, and her ponytail fell across my body. The feel of all that long, silky hair slipping over me made me shiver a little, and I thought I smelled a vague floral scent, maybe jasmine, coming from her hair. My mind jumped back again, to the massage she'd been giving me. How I'd been trying to control what I thought would be an unwelcome case of arousal while she was trying to light a fire in my balls, and succeeding. My eyes drifted down her body, following from her face to the curves concealed by the loose white blouse she wore, and the simple blue skirt below it. They lingered for a while on her breasts, which I could already at that point tell were, as they say, more than a handful. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

When her thumb started playing with the hole at the tip of my penis I let out an unintentional growl, and squirmed in a way that was less than pleased. I know some guys like having that part played with, but I've always found stimulation there is too much, and goes right over from pleasure well into pain. I brought my arms back and propped myself up on my elbows, my mind having settled out of it's foggy state, finally ready to react to all this as reality. A surprising, very pleasant reality, but still reality.

I didn't know what to say, and felt acutely the disadvantage I was at. She was the one in command of the situation, not me. I was lying there naked, aroused, and still slightly confused. She was standing over me, fully dressed, looking at me with a heat in her eyes that hadn't been there before, and holding my almost painfully erect member in her hand, thumb and forefinger around the shaft and fingers playing with my sack. Literally and figuratively, she had me by the balls.

She finally must have tired of waiting for me to figure out what to say, because she smiled, a devilish light in her eyes, and said, "Speechless?" Her other hand, the one not keeping me distracted with its grip on my member, came down on my stomach, just above my navel, and began to slide up. Her fingers traced over the lines of my stomach, than up, tracing the bottom line of my pecs. The touch wasn't that of a masseuse, it was a lover's caress, an exploration of my body.

She spoke softly, looking me in the face, "I don't know why you're so surprised. I'm only human you know. You think I'm not thinking about sex when I've got the hottest guy I've ever worked on naked on my table for an hour?" Her hand glided up over my chest to my collarbone, and she said with emphasis, "And he's fun to talk to." She leaned in then, bringing her face near mine, "AND he's hung like he's part pony." She gave what I can only describe as an affectionate squeeze to my cock and balls. I've said before I'm not going to give details on my size, but I'm far enough from small that her comment made sense. She grinned at me, "I'd have to be a lesbian not to be interested."

I couldn't stand it any longer, I had to take action. Keeping one arm on the table behind me to prop me up, I reached out with the other one and wrapped it around her waist. I pulled her as close as the position allowed for, and kissed her fiercely. I ate at her mouth like I was a starving animal, and she was food. At that point, the analogy wasn't far off. I'd been passive to this point, but I'd been holding myself back.

At first making an advance would have been inappropriate, and later, after she had her hand on my crotch and there was no doubt where she wanted things to go, it had taken me a bit to let my brain catch up with events. Now though, I would not, and could not, sit still and let her have sole control over things. At first, it seemed to surprise her. She'd figured out I was shy about approaching women, perhaps she thought that shy and meek automatically go together. In me, they don't.

Eventually, she started kissing me back, and that was a kiss that was almost a fight. It was a struggle, a battle of tongues and teeth and lips. We fought back and forth, each eager for the contact, eager to come together, but wanting it on our own terms. It was a war that neither of us won, but it was one that had no losers either, we were both enjoying it too much. When the kiss finally broke, it left both of us gasping for air, and panting for more. She gave me a look that belongs on a tiger about to pounce, and I can only imagine what my own face must have looked like, but it had to be something similar.