Marty's Massage

"Nice. So Jenny didn't lie about you. You are quite handsome." My newest client was looking up and down my body, almost causing a chill to run up and down my spine. A good chill. A chill that turned me on.

"Marty Cooke. Glad to make your acquaintance." She smiled widely, but her smile had something more mixed in that I couldn't identify.

"Martha Walker. Please come in."

I had to grin for a moment, as I considered everything that had happened the past couple weeks since I had decided to give massages to my neighbors. I had retired to this small community of other retired people almost two years ago, and was facing what many retirees faced -- a limited income.

Most retirees faced this because they didn't save enough money, but I faced a limited budget because the IRS had confiscated all my retirement funds in retribution for my successful efforts at helping people fight the illegal collection practices of the tax agency. The IRS claimed I had stopped it from collecting $22 million in back taxes, penalties, and interest from my clients over the span of two years, but I rebutted that claim with the statement that my clients didn't owe that money at all. I maintained that if my clients had lawfully owed the money, then I could not have stopped the IRS from collecting it.

The IRS' response was to confiscate my retirement as "Illegal gains," knowing that there was no legally-established procedure to stop that process and challenge that confiscation. Had the IRS gone through the legally-established procedures of a bank levy, I could have successfully challenged the IRS and got my money back. I did that regularly with my clients and I knew I could do it for me. But with no procedure to challenge the "illegal gains" confiscation, I was stuck with no retirement.

So, after almost two years of living quietly in the community, I had decided that by performing massages for cash, I could supplement my Social Security and live better without IRS harassment. Hopefully, if things went really well, I could even live comfortably. So I posted brochures in the communal mail room, offering my services with the disclaimer that, while I was not a licensed masseuse in this state, I had more than forty years experience in giving massages to friends and associates. And with no complaints. So I was charging half the going rate for a "professional massage" with a money-back guarantee of satisfaction.

The first week, I had only one customer. But apparently the customer was satisfied enough to talk to her friends, and I had already given three massages the second week and it was only Thursday. And although I had reconciled myself to the agony of massaging the flabby bodies of a lot of old women, the customer I was now facing was a welcome change. She was in her late fifties, slim, and quite attractive.

She offered me a beer while we chatted and got to know each other a little, and I had agreed. Even though I was on the clock, I had no other customer scheduled until the next morning. As I waited for her to get the beers, I looked at myself in the large mirror on the living room wall. I was in my early sixties, divorced, tall with a closely-trimmed beard, and I still weighed the same 220 pounds that I had weighed for the last thirty years. So I was confident that my physical appearance would not be an obstacle to getting customers, and this current customer had even made a comment about that when she answered the door a few minutes earlier.

I finished my beer but saw that she was drinking slowly. I suspected she was taking her time so we could chat longer, so I settled in for some more time on her very comfortable couch. After another five minutes, I stood and smiled at her.

"Thank you for the beer, Martha. You go change into a robe or something comfortable while I setup my massage table over here. Please understand that whatever you wear, I will have a towel to cover you up when you are on my table. And whatever you choose to wear, please bear in mind that I use lots of a really nice massage oil, so make sure it is something you won't mind getting oil all over it. The oil will wash out without a stain, but some people don't like getting oil on what they wear." I smiled my nicest smile and then turned to my folding massage table.

I set up my massage table and spread the sheet over it, careful to remove all the wrinkles. Then I prepared the towel, making sure it was wrinkle-free, too. Finally, I called out that I was ready.

A few seconds later, I heard a noise behind me and turned to my second client of the day. I almost gasped and then smiled at her again.

Martha stood in front of me in a very short robe that was almost but not quite transparent, and it was obvious that she wore nothing under it. I could see her full breasts and very dark nipples through the material, and a very dark and full bush was obvious down below. I cleared my throat to gain the time necessary to collect my thoughts and she was grinning widely at me as I paused.

"Well, Martha, I did suggest for you change into something comfortable..." She grinned a little wider as she interrupted me.

"Well, there is nothing more comfortable than nothing." With that, she removed the robe and laid it over a nearby chair. "Is this my towel?" I hesitated for just a second and then replied to her question.

"Yes. You can lay on your stomach and I will cover you up with that." I watched as she tossed the towel on top of her robe and lay face down. I tried very hard not to notice her nearly flat stomach, hairy pussy, and really fine breasts with large, protruding nipples, but totally failed at it. In fact, I think I actually gulped as she spoke.

"I am not bashful, so we don't need to get your oil all over the towel. Save it for your next client. She stretched out on my table, placing her face in the face hole of the table. A few seconds later she spoke.

"Okay, I am comfortable. Now we can get started. My muscles have really been looking forward to meeting your hands." I looked down at her and noted that her butt cheeks were a little fleshy but the rest of her looked really good. I gulped again and reached for the expensive massage oil. I dribbled the oil on her shoulders and back and proceeded to spread it around with my hands. Trying to sound like a professional, I engaged her in small talk as I worked on her shoulders and neck. When I got to her back, I wondered if I should work on her butt but she spoke up before I could ask.

"Make sure you get my butt really good. I sit a lot and my gluteus muscles feel really tight." I was surprised that she knew the name of her butt muscles, but I was even more surprised that she wanted me to massage them. I was not a professional so I didn't know if her request was the norm, but all my massages until my new "business" involved women that wore either a bathing suit or at least underwear, and none of them involved me massaging their butts. Still, I was there to serve the customer, so I just grinned as I dribbled oil on her ass.

And I had to admit, massaging her ass was really fun. In fact, I began to feel a little turned on as my fingers worked on her glutes. And the more time I spent on her ass, the more she moaned and the more I felt my cock get hard. Even when the women on my table wore only underwear, I had no problem with a hard-on. Not until I was massaging a naked ass.

I always wore sweat pants and a tee shirt when I give a massage and I realized now that sweats would offer no control over a hard cock. I considered what that would mean as I continued massaging her butt.

"How is that, Martha? Does that feel good?" As soon as I asked the question, I regretted the wording. I heard her moan before she answered.

"Yes, that feels good, but maybe you need to spend some more time there. Like I said, I sit around a lot every day, between my computer and the TV, and my muscles could really use some more work." I thought I heard her chuckle quietly as she looked back over her shoulders and pointed to her butt muscles, but I wasn't sure. So I worked on her butt muscles some more, using my fingers to probe more deeply into her muscles. This time her moans were louder.

As requested, I spent a few more minutes on her ass, and then I moved down to her legs. I started with her feet and I heard more moans. I expected that because a foot massage was always the most appreciated by most people, and I spent a few extra minutes kneading her foot muscles. I noticed she spread her legs slightly as I worked on first one foot and then the other. I spent several minutes on each foot and watched as she spread her legs a little more with each minute. I found myself looking at what became a very exposed pussy, enjoying the show she was putting on. I moved up to her calf muscles, first one and then the other, wondering just how far she wanted me to go. She removed my concerns as I moved up to her thighs.

"And you will need to get my thighs pretty well, too. I worked on my lawn yesterday and my legs ache from the work." I grinned at the back of her head.

"Yes, ma'am. I will do a good job on them." My grin widened as she moved her legs further apart. I found myself looking more carefully at her pussy lips as they peeked through her bush. I slowly worked up her thighs until I was close to her pussy, her moans getting louder by the minute.

"Could you get just a little higher without embarrassing yourself? My muscles really need your hands right now." I chuckled quietly as I replied.

"Well, ma'am, I don't embarrass easily." She almost giggled.

"Good. I am glad because I tip based on how good you make me feel." I had to grin at what I saw as an invitation.

"Well, then, I guess I need to make you feel really good." Her response was a loud moan. I worked my way to the top of her thigh, just half an inch from her exposed pussy. Then I "accidentally" brushed her lips to see her response. Her moan was really pronounced and lasted a couple of seconds. Then I moved to her other leg and her response was more of a groan. I decided that I would find out if that was a groan of disappointment.

I spent a lot of time on her second leg, slowly working my way up the muscles. Again, I massaged up to about half an inch from her pussy and then brushed against her pussy. She moaned loudly again, and then groaned when I stopped. I had to chuckle.

"Don't worry, Martha. I am not finished. Now I need you to roll over onto your back." I watched as she carefully rolled over, clearly unsure how sturdy the massage table was. Then, as she lay back, she looked at me and smiled, having noticed how my eyes had ranged from her boobs to her pussy and back.

"I hope you aren't grossed out by hair." The look on her face showed real concern for a moment, and I smiled in response.

"No, I actually like hair. I think it is beautiful. Besides, I never saw the need to try to improve over what God intended." She reached down and ran her fingers through that luxuriant bush and I had to smile at her action.

"Well, some women claim that shaving makes them feel cleaner." Her comment seemed a little hesitant and I had to chuckle.

"Well, my response would be to tell them to take more showers." Martha laughed out loud.

"I know, right?" I smiled again and had to continue.

"And then I would suggest that if shaving there made them feel cleaner, then they should shave their heads, too." Martha laughed again, louder this time.

"I am going to have to remember that one." And I chuckled as I began to massage her face and scalp muscles. A few minutes later, I moved to her throat muscles, but only spent a minute there. Then I reached under her neck and spent several minutes stretching and massaging her neck muscles. She moaned a lot during that, which I expected. The neck always needs a good massage, and it can best be massaged while the individual lays on his or her back. And I am good at working the neck muscles from this position.

She moaned a lot while I worked her neck muscles, so I lingered longer than I had planned. In fact, I was surprised that I took so long on her neck because I really wanted to get to her boobs. Finally, I dribbled some oil on her plentiful boobs. She moaned and I had to comment.

"No need to moan yet. I haven't even started on these beautiful babies." We both laughed at my comment.

"Anticipation required the moan." With that, she voiced her desire that I spend extra time on her boobs. Tough job, but somebody has to do it, right?

I gently rubbed the oil into her boobs, and then began massaging them in earnest. I had seen enough videos on massages, both legitimate and porn, that I was comfortable with my technique, but I concentrated on just making her feel good. The pectoralis muscles are under the breast and they benefit at least somewhat from a massage, but most women just enjoy having their breasts massaged in a playful and stimulating way. So I did what was necessary for both of us to feel good. And this had its predictable result. I got really hard.

I was standing just off her right shoulder for this, and my boner was just a few inches from her face. She, of course, noticed this and raised her right hand to brush across it.

"Is that because of me?" Her smile held a lot of teasing. I chuckled.

"No, I just like the sensation of getting oil on my hands." I laughed at her expression, which immediately changed from looking disappointed to looking like she was enjoying herself. She pressed the back of her right hand more firmly against my hard cock and moved it around for several seconds. Her smile widened as she played with me for a few seconds, and then I moved my efforts just a foot or so lower to begin to massage her stomach.

And when I massaged lower on her stomach, just brushing against her pussy hair, I sensed her breathing deepen. I paused, waiting for permission. When I looked into her eyes, I saw pure lust there, and she gave that permission in a quiet and plaintive voice

"Please?" I smiled at her and began to do what we both wanted. I dribbled some oil on her hairy pussy and began to gently rub it in. The hair nearest her lips became plastered against those lips and I could see she was already swollen with desire. I massaged her pussy for several minutes, from her clit to her asshole, hearing her breathing louder and faster. Then I stopped.

"Don't you dare stop!" Her command was quite loud, and I smiled gently.

"Hold on for just a second." I reassured her as I walked around the table to her head. Then I bent over and I reached to massage her pussy. I would push my fingers down her pussy almost to her ass and then slowly pull back, only to do it again. And each time I pulled back, my hard cock pressed against her forehead. On the fourth time I stretched forward to stroke her pussy, she reached up and pulled down on the elastic of my sweat pants. This freed my hard cock, which she immediately grabbed with her right hand. Then she pulled my pants down just a little more, freeing my balls.

Now, each time I bent over to stroke her pussy and then pulled back, my balls dragged over her nose and slid up and down her forehead. Holding her right hand still, my leaning forward and then pulling back caused my dick to slide into her hand and then retract. Plus, she started to lick my balls each time they dragged up and down her face.

We settled into a nice rhythm with me stroking her pussy and her stroking my cock and licking my balls. It took only a couple minutes and Martha moaned loudly a couple times, and then almost screamed as she announced her orgasm. I continued a few more strokes of her pussy, only more gently, and her breathing returned to normal after a few seconds. She broke the silence a minute later.

"Oh, honey, I haven't cum like that in a long time." Her smile was wide and her eyes confirmed her words.

"Well, ma'am, we aim to please." We both chuckled at my words.

"Well, damn, you sure hit what you aimed at." I smiled my gratitude and then heard the front door close loudly.

"Mom. Are you home?" Pulling up my pants in a panic, I turned to see an absolutely beautiful woman abut thirty years old. She had long dark hair, equally dark eyes, and a slender body. Her boobs were smaller than her mother's ample bosom, and I guessed her size to be a well-formed C-Cup. She wore tight jeans, which showed off an equally tight ass, and a cropped tee shirt with the Tampa Bay Buccaneers across her chest.

Obviously, I liked what I saw, being a Bucs fan. And I liked her body even more. Shit, she was the total package! But she apparently didn't like what she saw. I mean, seriously, her mother laying naked in front of a strange man with a boner would not meet the approval of most caring daughters.

"Mom, what is going on here?" She was reaching for her phone and I was concerned that she was about to take pictures of her nude mother. Martha sat up, making no attempt to hide her naked body, and spoke to reassure her daughter.

"Oh, honey, Marty was just finishing my massage." Her words didn't do much to reassure her daughter, who was still looking at me with suspicion while holding her phone. Martha tried again to reassure her daughter by introducing us.

"Honey, this is Marty. He has a new business here giving massages to the local residents. And he is really good!" Since I could smell Martha's arousal, I was not sure that the daughter would be mollified, so I just smiled.

"And Marty, this is my daughter, Emily. Emily lives a few miles away and she visits me every day."

"Good afternoon, Emily." I nodded my head in a truncated bow, but her eyes still held distrust. Martha tried again to explain the situation.

"Honey, you know my back was acting up since I worked out in the yard." Emily interrupted her mother.

"Yes, we both messed up our backs working on your yard. I have told you so many times that you simply should not be doing yard work." Martha nodded vigorously in agreement.

"But I do so much love working in the yard. And that is why Marty is here. I saw his little flier when I picked up my mail this morning. It was colorful and seemed to pick up my spirits just by looking at it. I immediately called him and he fit me into his schedule this afternoon. He spent the last hour working on my very sore body, and he has done miracles. I feel better than I have felt in months, and maybe longer. And I bet he will eliminate your pain, too. Come on, you should do it." She peered hard at her daughter and saw her daughter unconsciously reach behind herself in a failed attempt to massage her own back. Martha saw that and responded.

"See what I mean? We both messed up our backs and we were both in pain. He did wonders on my back and neck and now I have no pain at all. If you let him work on you, then we can both be pain-free. You need Marty as much as I needed him. Now I feel great and you are obviously in pain. Come on, honey, you really need to get on this table." She stepped aside and gestured toward the table she had been standing next to. She was still totally nude and suddenly Emily objected.

"No, I didn't bring a robe or anything." She moved spontaneously to cover her mouth. Marty held out a large white towel just as Martha reached behind her for the robe she had draped over the chair only an hour earlier. Emily looked at the towel and then at the robe, her indecision clear. After several seconds of looking into my eyes and seeing the most innocent and encouraging expression I could muster, she finally reached for the robe from her mother.

"Where do I change?" The question was logical but it brought a strangely conspiratorial expression to Martha's eyes. She grinned at her daughter.

"Oh, honey, there is no need for a dressing room. He is going to see you eventually, so you might as well get undressed right here. No use putting off the inevitable in a useless gesture of modesty." Emily glanced at her mother for just a second, and then her eyes jerked to me. Fear showed in her eyes so I quickly moved to reassure her.