Katie Books Her Own Private Massage

I am 47 years old. My wife is 39. Katie is as beautiful as she was when we met in the university town where I was teaching. She was 23, I was 31. We married two years later. Ages 33 and 25. The age difference didn't seem to matter in those wonderful years and several more. Apparently, it matters now.

It was about 9:00 on a Monday morning. Katie walked into my den/office and told me we needed to talk, right away. She was wearing the kind of conservative business suit that successful women wear. She was in the businesslike mode that has helped her succeed in leadership roles in both her career and high-profile volunteer roles. She is, indeed, a strong woman, but she has never been a domineering wife. We've worked out a sharing-of-duties structure within our family that has kept things nicely in balance. We have also actively pursued individual interests such as her club-championship-level tennis and my pretty decent golf.

There is, though, a confession I should make before describing that Monday morning conversation. Katie's youthful beauty relates to her commitment to diet and fitness. Me, not so much. Over the years, I've lost some tone and gained a pound or two or twenty. I've been told, several times, that I have a beautiful daughter. But holy shit, who's ready for this?...

She sat down in the leather lounger across from my desk, took a sip from the coffee cup she had brought with her, carefully placed the cup on the lamp table beside her, and turned to meet my eyes.

"I thought you should know that I've scheduled a massage appointment for 7:00 tonight."

My first instinct was to say 'fine, no problem' but then the warning bell rang. What the hell? She makes all kinds of appointments, including massage therapy related to tennis. We've never had a serious morning discussion about any of that. I frowned, quizzically. "Why are you telling me this?"

"The appointment is here"

"Here? Where here?

"In the rec room. He'll bring his own table and supplies."

"He? He, who?"

"Justin."

"Katie, what the hell is going on? Who is Justin? Where did he come from?"

"Jenna and Margo on my league-team use him."

A vision was beginning to form in my head, but I really couldn't believe it was possible. "What kind of massage?"

"Tantric."

My heart was suddenly pounding. I cleared my throat, "Tantric, as in the... the stuff I've seen on porn sites."

She simply nodded. "Quite possibly, but it's a serious form of massage."

"Is he, I mean, trained?"

"Margo and Jenna think so."

We had been talking for less than a minute and my head was already spinning. "Katie, slow down, reset, did you really just walk into my den and tell me some guy will be fondling your tits tonight at 7:00?"

Now I got a half smile, "Among other things."

"Holy shit. Don't you think we should have talked about this?"

"We are talking about this?"

I practically sputtered my, "No, I mean, talked before you..."

She leaned forward, her blue eyes intense. "John, listen to this carefully. I have been 'talking about this' for five years. I've given you every clue I knew how to give that... that, frankly, I need more. So I made this decision on my own while I'm still under 40. I don't feel a need to ask your permission and I don't want to get into a long debate. It starts tonight at 7:00."

I was grimly aware that I was playing defense, big time. "But can't we talk about things I can do, or..."

"John. Stop. It's going to happen."

"But why did you tell me at all? Why not just go someplace and..."

"Because I don't want to sneak around behind your back. Because I'm safe here. You'll be here tonight, right?"

She was the keeper of our calendar, so she knew the answer. "Well, yes but, son of a bitch, have you given any thought to all this from my point of view."

"John, on this subject, I am sick and tired of thinking about your point of view. Nothing happens. You can know that I'm safe. You can know that I'll be a happier lady. I'm sure you can fight your way through the rest of it."

Now the visual was close to clear and starkly believable. I took a deep breath. "So you'll be naked?"

"Yes."

My throat felt dry. I swallowed hard. I have seen too many videos. "Tantric isn't... I mean, he won't... I mean this isn't about a guy fucking you, is it?

"Not tonight."

"HOLY SHIT, KATIE! What does 'not tonight' mean?

She stood and retrieved her coffee cup. "That's one of Justin's optional services." And she started toward my door.

I stood, too, trying to find some kind of footing as her husband. "GODAMMIT, KATIE, turn around and talk to me. This can't just happen out of the blue."

She didn't even slow down.

___________

I can't understand many of the things that went through my mind that day. If I'm honest, the biggest one was fear. Fear that I had really fucked up in letting her get to this stage, but then anger that she thought she could brazenly make this decision and simply announce that some guy would be stroking her naked body ten hours later. That anger led to thoughts of an all-out confrontation that would at least halt the craziness. But then I would recall her expression during the coffee meeting and the fact that I had never seen her so powerfully focused, and I've seen a focused Katie slay dragons while battling for her causes. Finally -- and worst of all -- I rummaged through recent memories and could recall times when Katie had suggested things like weekend getaways or re-establishing our Wednesday party night, 'at least for a little while.' For one reason or another, I just didn't help make those things happen.

So my stomach was involved -- almost non-stop butterflies all day. And, truthfully, my penis was involved. Katie is a truly beautiful blue-eyed blonde. She is lean, but definitely not skinny. She has nicely defined calf and thigh muscles. Her ass is beautifully curved but firm to the touch. Her breasts are likely 34-something, not voluptuous, just nice.

So I would think about Katie's body, exposed to, and being touched by, some asshole named Justin, and my dick seemed to be taking a whole new interest in my wife's qualities. That line of thinking actually caused me to have an optimistic thought that I executed as a text message about four hours before zero hour:

'Cmon. Katie - you just made Justin up to get my attention, right?' [SEND]

My notification signal sounded right away.

'Wrong."

For whatever combination of reasons, my conclusion was a desire to be involved in the process, not sexually, but rather to try to understand what she was thinking and how all this really worked when it was real.

She came home at about six and headed straight to the master suite bathtub. I was waiting in our reading chair when she walked into the bedroom, wearing a white terry cloth robe, still toweling her hair.

"May I watch you get ready?"

She looked at me almost suspiciously. "Why?"

"I want to be sure I approve of your outfit."

It took a moment for her to process, but I earned the hearty laugh that is a Katie trademark. "That's a good one, buddy."

With the ice broken and my acceptance clear, we chatted through her hair and make-up routines. At first, I thought she was spending a strange amount of time preparing for a private session with a stranger -- then the more-aware part of my brain shouted, 'That's the whole point you dumb shit. She's preparing for a private session with a stranger, for her own reasons.'

As she finished, she opened and re-tied her robe, allowing me to confirm a suspicion. "Don't women at least wear panties at first."

"Sometimes. Jenna does. Margo doesn't"

It was beating-heart and dry-mouth time again, "Why did you decide not to."

For the first time all day, her expression showed doubt. "I went back and forth, trying to decide." She met my eyes, but innocently it seemed. "Which do you think would be better?"

Earlier in the conversation, I had earned a laugh. Katie had just earned a hard-on. Don't ask me why. It just happened. But my response is easier to understand. "Are you fucking crazy? Are you seriously asking for my opinion?"

"Yes, I seriously am?"

"Why?"

"I'm just curious what you think?

"Why?"

"I just am."

I said, more or less lightly, "Do you care what I think?"

The more-aware part of my brain came to life immediately. 'You fucking dimwad, do you not see the right uppercut that's about to knock your ass into the middle of next week?'

"Yes, I care," she said quietly, "it's nice to know you're at least involved."

Serious OUCH! I tried desperately to counterattack. "What the hell? Do you realize you're letting me choose between having you covered, at least a little bit, but visualizing the guy taking off your... Godammit, Katie, I call that 'involved'."

She frowned her puzzlement. "So no panties, huh?"

She had absolutely messed my mind. "Holy shit, Katie, I don't know... I mean, okay this is unreal... what the hell?.... Okay, I'm choosing 'with panties'."

"Why?"

My weak response hinted at total tactical defeat. "I really don't know. I really don't." In fact, that was a lie. I chose the alternative that let my wife be covered, at least a little, for a little while.

She walked to her lingerie drawer and made a selection, then turned her back to me and stepped into her fashion choice. She walked toward me, stopped in front of me, untied the robe and opened it wide. "I bought these Saturday, just in case. What do you think?"

Now my professional, cooly competent wife was standing in front of me wearing panties that were pale yellow, tiny, and sheer. While I sat in stunned silence, she turned and headed toward the rec room. I heard her turn around at the head of the stairs, causing my right hand to refocus and push my pecker back where it had come from. She poked her head into the door opening and smiled prettily. "Wish me luck."

I had, indeed, given serious thought to jerking off at that moment but decided to 'save up'. The days of ready-for-action, rock-hard youth were behind me, and I was actually beginning to see a glimmer of hope for this crazy day.

__________

The doorbell rang at precisely 7:00. I had moved to the kitchen, assuring I was closer to the front door than Katie. As I opened the door, I looked for anything like oh-shit-the-husband's-home surprise on the face of Justin, a black-haired, black-shirted, muscular guy, who looked to be about the age of my back-up set of golf clubs -- seriously, I guessed him at 25, 30 tops.

He met me calmly; actually he came close to earning a laugh from me when he announced, in all seriousness, "I'm here to see Ms. Katie." He seemed like a nice kid, then I remembered that this nice kid was servicing her friends Jenna and Margo My welcome became a bit terse, "Follow me, she's in our lower-level rec room."

He descended the stairs, I decided to leave the door open, possibly unwisely, but I couldn't help myself. I couldn't hear clearly, partly because Justin spoke softly. I could tell that he had introduced himself. Katie actually gushed something like 'my friends have told me ALL about you.' She actually sounded nervous, almost like a teenager before her first date.

I could hear his table bag unzip, then the sounds of metal legs clicking together. He said something like, "Just to confirm, Ms. Katie, you want my Silver Level Happy Ending."

She practically giggled. "Yes, especially the happy part." I rolled my eyes. What the hell, Katie...is this you? But the more-aware part of my brain said, 'I'll tell you 'what the hell' -- she's on a brand new playing field. She may be a little nervous, but she'll learn, quickly.'

I made the decision -- something like voluntarily accepting a public flogging -- to listen to as much as I could. I could sit on the top stairs of our stairway that turned ninety degrees into the rec room. Close enough to hear Katie about eighty percent of the time, Justin about sixty percent. It was mostly one-line exchanges, and the following are accurate representations, edited to fill in a few listening gaps:

Justin: Whenever you're ready, I'll need for you to remove your robe.

Katie: I'm so ready you wouldn't believe it.

Justin: Just so you know, to do my work I will soon need to remove your panties.

Katie: I know. Margo told me they didn't really matter.

Justin: I enjoy working with Ms. Margo and Ms. Jenna.

Katie, laughing: And they enjoy having you work on them.

Katie: Your fame is growing at Meadowbrook. What's your secret?

Justin: It is simple, Ms. Katie. I listen to what you want. Then I learn.

Justin: You have a beautifully formed body, Ms. Katie.

Katie [voice sounding different]. Thank you, Justin, you have a... [pause] I, uh, thanks, I do spend a lot of time in the gym.

Katie: Do I really need this towel now?

Justin: No, Ms. Katie. Not until I cover you with it afterward.

Katie: I should tell you that my breasts are very sensitive.

Justin: I am aware, Ms. Katie.

Katie: [gasp] Oh, oh, oh my god, whoa...I wasn't ready for that. [gasping clearly audible]

Justin: I am so sorry, Ms. Katie, I only wanted to show that I understand that...

Katie: [laughing softy]: It's okay, I forgive you

Katie: [Later - Gasping loudly]: Oh, oh. Dammit. I didn't mean for that to happen. Does that count against me as the, you know...?

Justin [laughing softly]. No, Ms. Katie. We are not yet at the ending.

Katie: [practically purring]: In that case, you can do that again.

Katie [Her tone desperate]: Oh, god, Justin, don't make me wait anymore, please.

Justin: Anticipation will enhance your experience, Ms. Katie.

-----------------

Okay, you get the idea. Katie was doing exactly what she said she would do, and even a 47-year-old dipshit could see that she had told the truth about her why.

I realize as a storyteller that I can't skip over her happy ending so here's my summary report. She had clearly started on her stomach after removing the robe. Comments about using the towel started with her buns. Justin included twenty or so minutes of quietly doing whatever tantric guys do as warm-up drills. I heard some clear sighs and comments like 'oh, that's nice' but she seemed nicely in control.

During that time he reminded her that her panties would soon be in the way. He had her turn onto her back. She lost her panties soon after that and her first orgasm was soon after that. While it was happening, I recalled days gone by when Katie's first orgasm introduced a new version of Katie that was much more, let's just say 'agreeable' -- another glimmer of hope for me.

During Jason's long period of more intense erotic massage, there were multiple -- I lost track -- likely orgasms. She moaned then gasped often, mostly quietly, leading me to believe she was trying to protect me from full awareness. But her breathing was becoming increasingly ragged and audible, as was her moaning.

Justin said, "Are you ready, Ms. Katie.

Katie simply said, "Yes" and if a voice can sound horny, her's did.

Justin's instructions were totally audible, apparently to be sure she clearly understood. "Please bend your legs at the knees and scoot toward me, near the end of the table. I need to be able to reach your breasts as I prepare you." Then, seconds later. "Good, now please spread your legs."

HOLY HELL. Another genuine OMG moment as I grasped the menu options that Justin's Silver Level included. I couldn't see them, but I could hear her breathing grow louder. I could visualize a man with skillful hands and tongue totally owning her. I could hear, for real, the moans become short gasps and her body thrashing on the table. Then a guttural cry from deep in her throat and "Oh God, Justin. Oh Fuck Oh Fuck Oh Fuck.' Then moans and short gasps, then a period of quiet and, "That was incredible."

My cock was hard as a rock and I again resisted an enormous urge to beat off, hoping, big time, that there would be passion left in Katie for me. Then she blew me away. I heard her say, in a tone that sounded pouty. "Justin, I couldn't last as long as I wanted to, I'll pay you extra if..."

He laughed a warm laugh that helped me understand part of his magic. "Happy to be of service, Ms. Katie, and there will be no extra charge. Are you ready?"

"Yes, ready. Thank you, Justin."

So it happened all over again, except this time the table was making noise that sounded like a banging drum and Katie's scream was damn near blood-curdling. I had a WTF realization that probably occurred to you, too. She knew I was upstairs in a nice but typical suburban two-story, not famously well-insulated ceiling-to-floor. Hell, I wondered whether our neighbors might have heard her. But I decided that worrying about that was a definite Priority Two for the rest of my evening.

---------------------

I stayed to listen to goodbyes that would have inflamed me the day before. Now they seemed tame, although it is a moment when your wife gushes about her evening while lying naked under the towel he had promised to cover her with. He was gentle and humble and always complimentary. My wife promised him 'future opportunities to serve her.' I thought the sexual tension was palpable when he replied that she was welcome to 'upgrade her service at any time', but maybe it was just me; I was already beat to shit by the day.

They came up the stairs together, still laughing about something. I had hurried into the living room to be appropriately waiting. I stood and walked toward them, clumsily and said something lame-sounding like, "I'm sure Katie appreciates your service, let me escort you out."

I heard Katies' voice from behind me. "Honey, you should be thanking Justin. He was very helpful to me tonight."

And Justin looked me straight in the eyes, respectfully, "It was my honor to be here, sir."

Now part of my mind was saying, 'Get out of my sight you fucking wife-molesting piece of shit.' But the more-aware part of my brain spoke to me, "Buddy, you got your ass kicked today. You'd better man up and play a helluva lot better than this."

So I joined the gracious good-bye chorus for Justin and I asked my wife whether she would like to join me for a glass of wine. She said, "Sure," but with an expression that told me I was beneficiary of her obvious Justin afterglow.

We sat at opposite ends of our couch and quietly sipped our wine for a few minutes. Whether intentionally or accidentally, Katie was being very careless about keeping her robe closed. I easily determined that her panties were somewhere else. Her nipples were still firmly erect.

I said, "So how did it go?"

"Fine."

"As good as you hoped?"

"Yes."

"Better?"

She met my eyes and smiled. "Yes."

"Justin seems like a good guy."

Her smile broadened. "Yes."

"I could hear a lot of what happened."

She smiled at me, possibly a bit teasingly, "I was afraid that might be the case."

"C'mon, Katie, it was REALLY the case. What the hell did he do to you that caused that last, you know...?"

She smiled again, and my wife actually blushed. "I'm not sure. He had moved me to the end of the table with my legs..." she paused, "Are you sure you want to hear this?"

I thought 'what the hell? I've been hearing things all day that I didn't want to hear'. "Yes, I want to know what he did to you."

She took a deep breath. "I knew we were at the end, so I knew he would go down on me..."

WHOA, I couldn't stop myself from interrupting, even though I knew what she was going to tell me. "How did you know that...that, he would, you know...?"

Her robe slipped open. Her hand was stroking her breast. She whispered, "That's just how it works with Justin."

I swear to God, I thought my heart was trying to pound its way out of my chest. "So you just talk to him about what you want, and he, what? writes it down on..."