A Problem in Topeka

A Problem in Topeka

I slipped on ice one morning coming out of my hotel in Topeka, Kansas on my way across the street for breakfast. I fell flatter than piss on a plate on ice that was slipperier than a virgin's crotch. The young woman that was just parking to begin her duties cleaning rooms saw me fall and offered me a helping hand fifty yards back to my room. She introduced herself as Amy Kraft a housekeeper.

I told Amy that I was Jon Taft and started to fidget for the room key, but Amy opened the door with her master key, and after removing the blanket and sheet from the bed, she helped me sit on the edge of the bed and began pulling my legs onto the bed. I saw her blush, as she asked if she could get me some water and ice before saying she'd check on me in an hour or two, and if I needed her, she wrote her cellphone number on a pad and laid it on the nightstand with the TV remote control.

I thanked her and she asked me if I wanted her to call an ambulance to take me to a hospital, and I declined, saying I'd wait for an hour or two before considering my options. The sweet young chick said I may want to go to a massage therapist if I didn't improve soon. She said she had gone to a therapist three times after injuring herself playing soccer when she was a high school senior, and the therapist helped her greatly.

I started to unbuckle my dress slacks when Amy turned and noticed I was never going to get undressed alone and offered to help me. "Here, Jon, let me help," as she took over the buckle and removed my leather belt before lowering my zipper. I was a twenty-five-year-old IBM salesman planning to visit the Kansas Highway Department, and although I was somewhat familiar with women, I'd never had my zipper lowered by a strange girl that I assumed was about 20.

"If you can lift the weight from your butt, Jon, I can pull your pants free and hang them up before helping you get out of your tie and dress shirt."

The more the sweet girl talked, the more enjoyment I was feeling, and before she returned from the closet, I had a terrific erection that was noticeable, as she removed my tie and unbuttoned my shirt. I gave her the benefit of the doubt and thought there was probably no way she could unbutton the lowest buttons without touching my undershorts and feeling my swollen penis pressing against my jockey shorts, which transferred to her tiny hands.

By then I was blushing, and I saw her staring at my covered package, and heard her say not to worry, she promised not to hurt me. Then she smiled and removed my socks and hung the shirt beside my pants and came back and pulled the sheet over me saying she'd check on me in a couple of hours.

A couple of hours later, I heard someone approaching, as I lay watching the TV that I had placed on mute and quickly pulled the covers free and pretended to be sleeping allowing her to get another glimpse of something that I wanted her to see. I wasn't sure she couldn't detect I was hard, and if I was asleep, it would likely be flaccid unless I needed to pee.

Amy placed her hand on my forehead and ) opened my eyes and asked if she was back already. Two hours had passed, and she said I didn't have temperature and she'd bring me a sandwich during her lunch hour. She asked if I was in pain, and I said not while laying here, but don't think I'd want to stand right now, but I mentioned that sooner or later I was going to need to take a whiz. Amy said she'd find something for me to use and five minutes later she bought a plastic pitcher from the supply cabinet.

I noticed she placed it by the lavatory in the bathroom and said to call when I needed help, and I knew for sure Amy wanted to assist me. I was still holding my urine when she returned at noon with sandwiches and Diet Cokes and after a few sips on the Coke, I couldn't wait much longer. I think she saw me grit my teeth before I said, I needed to pee and a moment later I was sitting on the edge of my bed holding the pitcher between my knees, while Amy pulled my erection free of my jockey shorts and pointed it inside of the container.

I thought the faucet was never going to run dry spurting a solid thick stream of pale-yellow urine, and when I finished, she used a damp washcloth to remove any residue remaining on my helmet. For what seemed like forever, I blasted a heavy stream of urine into the container followed by several final smaller shots into the plastic pitcher and finally said, "I think I'm finished," and Amy asked, "You think?"

We finished our sandwiches when Amy said she'd rub the areas that hurt before leaving to finish the remaining rooms on her floors, and after rolling over she said, "Jon when I had my massages, the therapist made me remove my panties. I lifted and heard Amy say I didn't have any bruises, as she pulled my jockeys free and admitted that she didn't have the fragrant oils or strength that Feng had when he massaged her.

I was interested to know about Feng, but she was doing a marvelous job on my lower back and butt, as she told me how he massaged her entire body for an hour three separate times. She said she was tempted to ask him not to touch certain places, but she had never experienced anything so rewarding, and if he weren't so expensive, she'd visit him three times every week.

I felt Amy pull my legs farther apart and massage lower and lower until she was rubbing the creamy solution on my nuts before saying she needed to get back to work. She said she'd be done about 3 PM, and if I thought her massage was helping, she had no plans after she punched out at the end of her day and would be happy to work him over again. I was thinking that I'd like to work her over if my lower back didn't feel so stiff.

My back was much improved when she left, and when she returned, I mentioned I was nearly recovered. I explained that I walked to the bathroom an hour after I finished lunch to do some business. Amy asked if I wanted another treatment, and then she said she was going to do like Feng and remove her clothing so she could sit on my legs and get much better pressure as she massaged me. She brought several little bottles of moisturizing cream and said she'd use more pressure.

I could feel Amy's pussy pressing on my butt while I lay on my stomach, but when I rolled over, and she lifted her little body, she impaled Willie all the way. I could hear her breathing heavily as she collapsed and dropped her chest against mine when I began massaging her dainty nipples between my thumbs and index fingers. I felt her climax as she gasped for breath, and I rolled her over and realized my back felt completely healed.

I brought Amy off again in the missionary position before I splattered semen against her cervix. I felt well enough to shower before I took Amy to a fine dinner of Kansas prime beef, and I stayed another night because I had to reschedule my appointment in Topeka before moving on to Wichita.

I always call Amy before heading to Kansas, and although we had a fantastic relationship once a month for three years, I started visiting massage therapists when I felt the urge to have a beautiful Asian woman massaging my naked body, but Amy was never bettered in my experiences, and I helped her get certified as a professional therapist. She's not only my therapist, but the best lover I've ever known, and annually she accompanies me at an adult-only vacation resort on one of the many beautiful Caribbean Islands for an entire week.

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