tagErotic CouplingsMassage Therapy

Massage Therapy

byMarciaRH©

Copyright 2009 by Marcia R. Hooper

This story is dedicated to Jim.


Matt sat at the edge of the mattress when I returned to the bedroom, his right leg folded beneath him, his hands clasping his knee, worry furrowing his brow.

"We need to talk, sweetie," he said.

"I know," I replied tiredly. Rubbing my forehead, I closed the bedroom door and made sure it was locked. The girls were in bed, but they could just as easily be awake as asleep and I didn't want either barging in on our conversation. Sex I wasn't worried about; no way was I having sex tonight.

Matt said: "Tell me what's wrong."

"You tell me what's wrong." Lately I had begun to feel alone in the marriage. Half the time I fell to sleep alone at night, and who knew what he did downstairs in his office. I suspected it had to do with pornography; I prayed it didn't involve another women. He'd been acting distant and preoccupied ever since September and since his time away from home was mostly accounted for, the Internet was all I could think of.

I thought, not for the first time: What if he's got an on-line girlfriend?

I asked him outright if there was somebody else.

"Are you kidding me?" he said.

Despite sounding surprised, his eyes momentarily cut away. The guilt portion of his reaction was enough to confirm my suspicions of a girlfriend; but it was also slight enough to indicate that it hadn't yet reached a dangerous level of intimacy. He was talking to someone on-line, I thought. Well, so was I, and I could live with that.

"I'm feeling more than a little neglected lately," I said, with just a hint of a smile.

He smiled back, sheepishly. "I admit, I've been pretty stressed out from work. This downturn business has got everyone walking on eggshells. And," he added, blushing slightly, "maybe I've been spending a little too much time on the Internet."

My grin widened a bit. My own activities on the Internet had broadened significantly in the past few months, so I knew how addictive pecking those little keys could be. It was not a subject I wanted to pursue.

"We're okay with the girls, though?" he inquired.

I said yes, even though I still felt a bit rancorous over the business. Matt was twelve years older than I, and previously married, so I had to acknowledge that Family Number Two needed to coexist with Family Number One. I only wished Matt would get his head straight about which family was which.

Come on, I thought sourly. Half that mess was simply your feelings being hurt because you're jealous of his easy relationship with his kids. It clouds your judgment sometimes and you need to acknowledge that.

Okay, I agreed. I'll work on it.

Good girl.

He stood up and walked over to me, limping slightly from his right leg having gone to sleep.

"Don't start," I warned him, crossing my arms over my chest.

"You're tense. I know you have a headache. A massage would do you wonders, sweetie,"

"You just want a piece of ass," I countered wryly.

He grinned and tried to capture my shoulders with his hands but I shrugged past him and headed for the bathroom.

"I don't feel like it," I said.

"You need it," he disagreed. "A massage, not sex."

I pushed open the bathroom door and turned on the light. I tried to close the door but he stood in the doorway and refused to move.

"Matt!" I complained.

"I've seen you go to the bathroom before," he said grinning.

"I have to go Number Two," I lied, feeling my face flush.

His grin widened. "I've seen you do that also," he reminded me.

Now my face really reddened. "No!" I said sternly, pushing him back into the bedroom. "Not tonight!"

Before he could recover I closed the door and pushed in the lock. Alone, there was no stopping my grin. I had to admit that I certainly needed a massage. I also needed to admit that yes, I could see a massage leading to some very good sex. Matt was randy tonight and his playfulness had put a match to the fuse leading to my powder keg. It had been a while. It had been even longer since we'd really gone at it hot and heavy. I wondered if I had hot and heavy in me tonight.

Un-belting my robe, I dropped my pajama bottoms and panties to my knees, reached behind me to feel for the seat before I sat down. I lowered it, saving myself an cold explosion of white porcelain and/or cold water on my poor fanny.

Men, I thought darkly. How many times had I asked him to lower that toilet seat?

I went pee, and then realized I had a Number Two coming after all. It's departure told me that Matthew, should he get lucky tonight, would find a completely empty rectum to plunge himself into, no enema required. The twittiness of it made me all squirmy inside.

God, I am hot, I thought.

I wiped, flushed the toilet and pulled up my pajama bottom and panties again, washed my hands and dried them, wondering all the while whether I could hide this sudden overpowering desire to be thoroughly fucked. My underarms itched and so did the inside of my vagina. This was bad. This was very, very bad.

He knocked on the door. "You all right, sweetie?"

"Go away."

I heard him go nowhere, and opening the door I found him leaning against the jam.

"Okay," I admitted with a sigh. "I'd like a massage."

He grinned widely.

"Just a massage," I warned, keeping my arms folded over my chest. "I'm seriously not feeling like it tonight, Matthew."

His grin moderated to more of a sad smile. "Whatever you want, my love. I want only what you want."

"Liar," I said good-naturedly.

He lead me over to the bed and waited behind me as I unbelted my robe. Slipping it back over my shoulders, I let him remove the robe and lay it over the chair-back.

"Lay down across the bed," he directed.

Climbing onto the bed, I lay down with my head at the far edge with my hands crossed beneath my cheek and the tips of my toes hanging off the other end. I was surprised (and a little disappointed?) that he hadn't suggested I take off my clothes. Maybe he really did just want to please me tonight. If so, I could live with that.

He started as always at my neck and after brutalizing it and making me squirm like a tickled teenager, he worked out across my shoulders and from there down onto my biceps. Already I was feeling sleepy and I listened to his soft patter of "This will help" "This will make you feel good" "Feel how tight these muscles are?" and "You feel like a coiled spring ready to explode." I found myself barely able to grunt back answers.

"I love you," I murmured.

"I love you too, Marci," he said softly.

"Call me by my name," I asked.

"I just did," he replied, his fingers digging into my shoulders again.

"I know. I love it when you say my name."

"You are so kookie," he said. He leaned down, moved my hair aside and kissed the back of my neck

"Nummmm," I protested, shivering and squirming away from him. "Stop that!" The slow-burning flame had leapt three feet farther up my fuse. My nipples hardened and vaginal juices wet my panties. My bottom involuntarily clenched in anticipation of what it expected might come later. I was fast losing the battle of feigning indifference to sex.

Returning to my neck, he slowly worked his way down to my shoulder blades and from there to the sides of my ribcage. Though I was pushed out on the sides, he took great care not to touch the sides of my breasts. It was maddening, but I dared not tell him to do otherwise.

"You're beginning to loosen up," he said.

"I feel like melting wax," I replied gratefully.

"Hmm," he said, kneeling back.

I lifted my head. "What are you doing?"

"Thinking about what you just said."

Getting off the bed--

"Hey!" I protested.

--he went to his dresser and opening the top drawer, dug around and came up with a plastic box, which he opened. Inside was a Bic lighter, I knew, and flicking it to life, he went around the room and lit half-a dozen candles.

"I know what you're doing," I said accusingly.

He grinned like a Cheshire cat, but said nothing.

"Don't you turn off those lights," I said warningly.

He turned off the lights.

"Matthew!"

"Oh, relax," he said, laughing softly. "It doesn't mean I'm going to rape you."

"I know what it means," I protesting. 'You think you're gonna--"

He knelt down beside me and placed his hands at the bottom of my ribcage where they had been before.

"You're not getting any," I grumbled.

"I'm not expecting any," he replied.

"Liar."

For the next five minutes he concentrated on my lower back and the bottom of my ribcage, then he shuttled backwards on the mattress in order to switch his concentration to my thighs and calves. Again, he took pains to stay clear of my private parts. It was so maddening. Did he really intend not to fuck me tonight? My subconscious began teasing me with frustration

And then he put hands on my backside.

"Matthew!" I warned.

Marci! What are you doing?

He removed his hands and put them on his thighs.

Look what you just did, my mind screamed. You asshole!

I lay still, and waited until he put his hands back on my bottom again. I clenched and he began to knead with his strong hands and suddenly my rear end was coming off the bed of its own accord, exactly as a cat's will do when rubbed.

I groaned. "Don't, Matthew, please."

At the same time I spoke my rear end continued to rise and Matthew released my buttocks and clasped the waistband of my pajama bottoms at either hip and pulled them down to my knees. I shifted one knee at a time and he removed them completely, letting them drop to the floor. Then his hands had the hem of my pajama top and he worked that up my chest and over my head and along my outstretched arms and, through me barely opened eyes I watched it fall to the floor.

"I like you naked," he said, stroking down my back to my raised rear end.

I shuddered violently.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" he asked softly.

"Oh God, yes," I moaned helplessly, shuddering violently again.

His hand slid down the curve of my buttocks to my labia and I immediately forced my legs outward to allow him access.

"Fuck me!" I begged.

"Patience," he said softly.

With his middle finger, he traced the line of my cleft and let the tip slide into my wetness. I sucked breath as the finger entered me and found the dome of my cervix deep inside.

"Oh, Matthew," I moaned gutturally. "Do me. Do me now. Please!"

"Patience," he advised, making me pay for my earlier foolishness. "Patience is a virtue, my dear."

I lay there with my bottom upraised, hands clenching the edge of the mattress either side of my chin. Maddeningly, I had to pee again but the thought of rising from that bed for any reason was ludicrous. I panted furtively, afraid to give away the true desperateness of my situation.

"Matthew," I croaked.

His finger inside me was joined by another, and then suddenly the middle finger of his left hand was sliding down the crack of my ass toward my defenseless anus and I could do nothing about it.

"Don't!" I pleaded, gasping as the fingertip began to trace the ridges of my clenched hole in maddening little circles.

"Matthew, don't!" I pleaded and then sucked in breath again as the fingertip penetrated and slid into my waiting depths. Soon the entire finger took up residence and began to explore me wonderingly.

"Oh, God, Matthew!" I moaned. "Would you please!"

Without speaking, he removed his hands from my buttocks and took up position behind me. He raised my rear end to the appropriate height and with an expert hand, slipped the head of his cock into my sopping wet vagina. I gasped as all eight inches of him entered and stretch my canal to its maximum limit.

"No wait!" I cried out in pain.

He held still.

"Oh, God, Matthew," I moaned as one, then a second finger made its way into my aching rectum. "I want you so badly. Fuck me! Fuck me please!"

His erection began to run in and out or me, the entire length except for the head first vacating, and then ramming back into place, the speed and tempo increasing as I began to finger my clitoris feverishly.

"Oh, God, Matthew!" I choked, shuddering and gulping in air. I wanted it up my ass, was desperate for it up my ass, but his presence in my throbbing vagina was just too incredibly overwhelming. I settled for his energetic fingers up my anus instead.

How I made it five minutes I don't know. Suddenly I was slammed by orgasm and then Matt was out of my vagina and plunging into my rear end and I simply lost my mind and grabbed his hands and crushed them in a death grip as I slammed my backside back against his thrusts and yanked him forward to meet me. In moments Matt erupted like a volcano and bit down on the edge of the comforter to keep from screaming hysterically. I lasted five seconds more experiencing his flood of semen and then I was flipped around with his cock in my mouth, sucking him, eating him, gnawing at him, swallowing the last of his precious ejaculations straight down my throat. And then it was over.



Twenty minutes later. Matt holding me, spooned in together, his cock still up my rectum.

"You still awake, dear?"

"Mmmm," I said dreamily.

"You're smiling," he said.

"Of course, I'm smiling," I said back. "Look who's inside me?"

He raised his head and looked curiously around the room. "Who?" he asked.

"You silly!" I said, squeezing his arms to my chest. I could feel his erection deep inside me and clenched it lovingly.

"Want to it again?" he asked.

"What a silly question."

This time, the lovemaking was slow and easy and satisfying. I took him the first ten minutes up my rear end, then at the edge of the mattress with my legs pressed back against my chest, obediently counting the number of times he fucked me.

"One hundred," I said, giggling. After a while I said, "Two hundred."

He removed himself and out it back up my rear end.

"Be careful," I advised. "I'm pretty sore right now." Sore didn't stop me from counting to five hundred, however, and then taking him in my mouth.

"Do you like it when I do this?" I asked, licking him gently up and down his shaft.

He was shuddering, his knees barely able to keep him erect. "Oh, yes," was the best he could manage, and that in a croak.

Slowly, gently, carefully, I sucked each of his testicles into my mouth and fondled them with my tongue.

"You like this?" I asked.

He only grunted.

Putting me back on the bed, he climbed atop me and allowed me the joy of my favorite position. We were both exhausted now, and holding him loosely around his neck with my knees drawn up to his shoulders, having him go in and out of me slowly but deeply, kissing him, sucking his tongue and having him suck mine, craning back my head to allow his mouth to attack my throat, finding his anus with my right fingertip and playing with it joyfully, thoroughly enjoying the middle finger up my own anus, I began to gently orgasm and kept gently orgasming for five full minutes until Matt delivered his load of wonderful sperm deep inside me. Then we lay there, bonded in exhaustion, Mr. and Mrs. Hooper, contented at last.

THE END

Author's note: This story is also dedicated to those readers who complained that I shorted them sex-wise in my previous story, which I did. I hope this satisfies you better.

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