Massage

I decided at that moment that after leaving Christine's house, I would have to call some 'back up' sluts I've met via Tinder and just go and fuck the shit out of one of them.

I began to move my way around from the smooth, but hard surface of her shoulders, toward her well-developed lats. With slow, yet decisive circular movements my hands were kneading Christine's middle back, making a cursory 'excursions' toward her waist. Christine turned her head again, and I noticed that she pressed her mouth on her forearm. A second later, I heard another suppressed moan. Her body twitched a bit, and she bucked her hips up, just for the split of seconds.

Shit! Why is she making this so difficult? Why is she teasing me so much with these sexy sounds she makes?!

Are you sure she is doing it to tease you? I asked myself. Maybe it's just one of your delusions of grandeur? Perhaps she simply enjoys the massage in non-I-want-to-be-fucked manner? -- Some inner voice started to taunt me.

In my case, there were always two devils sitting on my shoulders. Little angel was fired a long time ago. Nowadays one red fella was daring me to do something tricksy, something provocative, and the second was encouraging me to take it even further.

So let's find out what Christine is up to. Let's drive her crazy. With massage and talking. -- I decided, and two little devils nodded approvingly.

Digging my fingers deeper into her firm muscles elicited another soft moan in her throat. I began to massage Christine back with ferocity perfectly balanced with gentleness and sensuality. I was fucking great at this, all of my exes loved to be treated that way. I knew infallibly where there was a need to apply more pressure to make the most tense muscles loose, and where it was better to just skim the skin with my fingertips.

I repositioned my hips, moving a few inches toward Christine's thighs. Now my rigid dick was pretty much laying on top of her butt, separated from the place I wanted it to be shoved in, only by the three layers of fabric -- my clothes, the towel and the thin, black cotton of Christine's panties.

"So, Christine, you're in charge of people at work, right? I bet that your subordinates are going clockwork all the time, seeing that their boss has thirteen-inch biceps that could snap them in half with ease." I teased her a bit and she laughed loudly.

"Haha! Nooo, not at all, I'm not that kind of person. Actually, I believe that most of them have no idea that I'm quite muscular. We have a strict dress code at work, you know." She explained with an amused voice.

"I must tell you that you're an extraordinary woman." I threw that cheap line nonchalantly and began to swipe my both hands down her waist, rubbing the sides of her obliques with the tips of my fingers. I was basically pulling her body backwards for an inch or so almost as if I was dry humping her. I cleared my throat and continued this game. "So many surprises so far. First, on the phone, referring to yourself as if you were an old granny, then looking much younger than you really are, then hiding this astonishing sculpted body under a distorted sweater. You're a dark horse, aren't you?"

"Hah! Maybe it looks as if it was planned, but it really wasn't!" Christine giggled apologetically, while explaining herself. "I didn't want to trick you, Aiden."

"Oh, don't worry, I didn't mind it at all! I like to discover some mysteries, hah! You're definitely one." I laughed, while my hands began to reach the end of Christine's loins. An uncontrollable shiver struck her body. "And forgive me if I'm being too bold, but I just need to tell you what else I like about you! Your eyes! They're captivating! It's called heterochromia, right?" I was shamelessly buttering her up right now, however, I wasn't lying. That was real talk. Although, a few phrases were definitely suggested to me by my lower brain.

"You like it? Some people look at me as if I had crossed-eye or something like that." She answered with a surprised tone and I couldn't figure out whether she was really modest or it was her coy way to get more compliments.

"We've already talked about where these people can shove their opinions." We both laughed. "And of course that I like it. They're magical. Once, I've heard that throughout history, a person with two colored eyes was considered in society to be a special one touched by the gods." It was a brilliant opening which was supposed to allow me to throw a punchline about "goddess' body" in the next lines, but I could never predict that Christine would have a good counter for this.

"I don't know about having been touched by the gods, but right now... I can feel a divine touch..." She said dreamily and I snorted, partially because of surprise, partially because it was a really nice followup line. But Christine must have misread my reaction because she quickly added with a trail of embarrassment in her voice. "Oops, sorry, that didn't sound very appropriate."

"No, no! It was a nifty riposte, I liked that!" Damn, Christine, don't get back off easily. C'mon, give me more.

"Hah, yeah, it still was better than my first idea. Initially, I was about to say that I may have magical eyes, but it's your hands what's capable of doing real magic." She laughed adorably and one would have fallen in love with that but not the heartless son of the bitch like me. Anyway, I was excited that Christine finally joined my game.

Yes, babe, my hands can do the magic as well as other body parts of me. Especially one. The real magic wand.

"Haha! This one was good too!" I said cheerfully to encourage her for more.

"But wordplay aside, your massaging skills are spectacular, Aiden. I could have not imagined that it could be so relaxing and... simply wonderful!" She sighed deeply and then surprised me, once again, by cooing. "Your girlfriend must be a lucky woman to have you around."

Uh-oh, Christine, I see what you did there! Are you playing my own card against me? -- I grinned widely, with a solid suspicion that her statement was a bait to check whether I was single or not. It's a smart tactic, I know that because I invented it.

"Unluckily, but apparently the massage itself isn't enough to keep a woman with me." I laughed humorlessly and added. "But my ex enjoyed that too. It was just all the rest she didn't like, hah!"

"That's too bad." Christine said, although, as I would have expected, she didn't seem to be really compassionate. Hm, interesting why? "Did you guys break up because of the covid? I've heard that many couples couldn't stand each other during quarantines, lockdowns and so on."

I know what you're doing! -- I waved my finger at her, of course only in my imagination. Now she was checking if this was a recent thing. Nice try! You're good in these games, babe, but I'm just better!

"No, that's an older story. I've been on the market for the last two years." I chuckled.

Funnily, because I realized that my ex would definitely struggle during the pandemic, as she had trouble keeping 'social distance' from other guys. Not because of sex, though! That part she loved, and I'd cut off my arm to bet that from time to time she misses getting fucked by me. Her main reason was my commitment and lack of emotional closeness. *sob, sob* So yeah, my fault, as always.

"I find it's hard to believe that a guy like you is single." Christine sighed and then abruptly went silent, as if she again felt that she said too much.

"What can I do?" I asked rhetorically, then answered that question in a jocular way. "Well, I can do your legs for now, hah! Okay?"

"Uhm... sure."

Christine tautened noticeably, as I moved backwards. Now I was kneeling above her calves. I gripped the rim of the towel and unveiled Christine's legs and that juicy, round ass of her. I still couldn't believe that a 47 years old woman could have such sexy booty.

I sighed deeply and spread the towel out on her back. The rear of her thighs looked as alluring as her glutes -- perfect balance between slenderness and muscularity. There was not even a shadow of cellulite on her smooth, porcelain skin.

I could hear that Christine was breathing deep and caught myself on synchronizing my breath with hers, without a fucking clue why I was doing it.

Next, I picked up the bottle of oil and spilled a few drops on both her legs. As soon as my palms touched her thighs, she trembled visibly, and I felt that her muscles flexed for a moment. My hands slid up and down her thighs, and Christine again moaned, this time pretty loud. I noticed that her arm muscles tensed. When my fingers started to press harder on her hamstrings and biceps femoris, she began to alternatively sigh, moan and...giggle! Her muscles were flexing and quavering. After maybe half of a minute, she suddenly said with an odd tone:

"Aiden, I'm sorry, but I have to ask you to stop. It's too tickling! Can you do my quads instead?"

"Uhm, okay, no problem, if you want me to." I answered carefully, while my inner voice was screaming one, giant, long FUUUUUUUUUUCK! She is going to see it... What should I do?

"I will turn around. Can you... ekhm... can you close your eyes for a moment, please?" Christine asked, a trail of awkwardness in her voice.

Yes, sure, what wrong may happen?

"Okay, go ahead, I'm not looking." This time my answer was much more confident because what other choice did I have? Trying to stall?

Christine will turn around and see a fucking huge bulge in my pants, then she'll probably freak out. But you know what? Fuck it! Yolo! What's meant to be, will be.

Anyway, I couldn't do anything about it, my dick was not planning to go down. And I couldn't even hide my erection, without showing that I'm hiding the erection. Holding my groin with two hands and trying to cover the tent would have looked ridiculous. The sweatpants were too loose, and my cock was too big. Yeah, it's pretty big. Kind of recompensation from God for having emotional intelligence on the level of plankton, I suppose. Or maybe a reward from Satan for being a faithful follower. Whatever.

But this darker part of my personality wanted Christine to see my hard-on. Her reaction would have been an ultimate proof if my stupid game was a co-op one, or I have been deluding myself from very beginning.

I heard a shuffling sound and one of her legs accidentally nudged my thigh, while she was turning around.

So this is it. Now I will hear "what the hell is that?!" or "you have ten seconds to leave my house, or I will call the police!" or just an inarticulate scream of a terrified woman. Or...

"Aiden, you may open your eyes." Christine said quietly, but her tone didn't show any emotions which could be associated with sharing the room with a perverted physiotherapist.

I looked at Christine and she was looking at me. Laying relaxed on her back, with her head supported on a folded towel and her hands resting on the second towel with which she covered her chest. Her hair was surrounding her head as if it was some kind of blazing aureole.

Christine's face didn't show outrage, fear, contempt or anything I was afraid to see, her expression was calm and maybe even a bit curious? Or was it only my overinterpretation? Astonishing, two colored eyes were opened pretty widely and her pupils were dilated. Can pupils be enlarged due to fear? I doubt that (I need to check it on Wikipedia though). Also, her lips were slightly parted.

Our unusual stare-down continued for an estimated half a minute, when she finally cleared her throat meaningfully, licked her lips and glanced down, right at the bulge stretching my sweatpants. At that moment, I knew already that Christine was expecting me to say something. And I was expecting myself to handle this properly. It didn't mean the polite, gentleman's way, though. When our eyes met again, and I spotted the softest smirk on her lips, I smiled too and said:

"Oops, sorry, that doesn't look too professional. But what can I say? Obviously, 'he' doesn't know that we're at work right now." I pointed down with my chin, sporting one of my top legs-spreading smiles. It was almost an effrontery, but Christine's reaction assured me that I was on the right track. Either way, I didn't care much about etiquette and manners anymore.

A gasp of surprise left her mouth, and her eyes glinted from behind her glasses. However, then her smile became more prominent, and she said:

"Oh, 'he' doesn't know?" Christine giggled and cocked one eyebrow in a jocular way. "Does it often happen to you?"

"No, actually it's the first time. Of course, first time if we're speaking of massaging the client. Because in the case of seeing and touching a hot woman's body, it happens every time." I smiled in a seductive/low-key way, Henry Cavill's style, hoping that in reality my smile didn't resemble Willem Dafoe's one.

Apropos Cavill -- my ex told me once, while she was still affected by postorgasm bliss, that I look like Henry's Aryan evil brother. Probably the nicest thing I've ever heard from her. Well, one I must admit, at that moment, kneeling above Christine, I was definitely feeling like Man of Steel.

"Never during massage? I could have bet that there were plenty of women who craved to be massaged 'that' way too..." Christine said and looked in my eyes, then dropped her sight with feigned bashfulness. At least I saw that as an act. And her soft smirk was proving me right.

Right then I was convinced that Christine was in heat. She just craved for my D. But for normal people like her, there is a huge difference between being aroused with fantasizing about having sex with a stranger and actual committing to do this. And then come people like me, who just don't give a fuck about boundaries. Heroes nobody asked for, but... nobody really needed too. But we can be useful, though, from time to time. Mostly for our own pleasure, but nobody's perfect, right?

Time to play va banque. Geronimo!

"I don't know about that, but... would you like to be massaged that way, Christine?" Squinting my eyes, I threw this question seemingly nonchalantly, but at the same time placed my hands on Christine's thighs, above her knees. I began to move them slowly, up and down, stroking her sculpted quads.

"Mhm... maybe..." It was supposed to be a playful answer, but her body betrayed her true desires. Her hips bucked up, almost as if they had their own will, in an attempt to meet my hands.

"'Maybe' is enough for me." I said with a deep voice and at the same time leaned over her, placing my right hand on her stomach and left one on the mat next to her. Her abdominal muscles were very hard. I felt that I could have easily supported my weight on Christine's belly.

"Yes, it is..." She sighed. I felt her fingers delicately touching my left forearm. She also pulled her legs from between mine and spread them, resting her calves on top of my thighs.

I leaned more forward, aligning my face with hers. Christine's lips parted in anticipation. My right hand slid across the washboard abdomen, toward the chest. With one smooth and brazen move, I tore off the towel from her cleavage, then airily tossed it aside.

Just like I thought, her breasts were tiny, almost non-existent, just little nubs, with jutting out hard nipples. These were begging to be caressed, but I ruthlessly ignored them. My hand wandered higher on Christine's torso, then ran to her neck. It landed under her head, digging deep into that storm of curly hair. Her arms entwined my upper back.

Decisively, I tilted her head and our lips connected with fiery passion. My tongue invaded her mouth, immediately dominating her tongue, making this kiss as possessive as it could be. I wanted to make sure that Christine would feel who was alpha there. Who was in charge. Control. Possession. Dominance. That was the way I liked it. And I was confident that she would love that. If not... Well, that'd be her loss.

Kissing her that way was very pleasant, I'm not gonna lie, but I decided to end it pretty quickly. Christine gasped for air and her flaming eyes, these remarkable two-colored eyes looked at me.

"Can you take off your shirt, please?" She pleaded, her fingers frantically grabbing and digging into my flesh.

I didn't answer anything, just smiled rapaciously. Lust finally took the best of me. I lifted myself to my knees again, crossed my arms, gripped the edge of my shirt and quickly pulled it off through my head.

Another gasp from Christine, this time full of appreciation of the sight. Yeah, I looked fucking great. Maybe I wasn't so defined like her, but surely looked big, lean and sharp. Finally, some pros of financial catastrophe, at least I stopped eating so much junk food, as they're too fucking expensive. So chicken and rice, all day long. Working out pretty hard was also helpful.

I felt her hands examining my abs and chest, but ignored them. I hooked my fingers on the rims of Christine's panties, at first wanting to just quickly pull them off, but guided by the impulse... I tore them in half.

Christine moaned with surprise and excitement, but didn't say a word of protest. A thought that I might have destroyed some expensive lingerie crossed my mind for a split second, but in reality I didn't care at all. She better considered herself lucky that I didn't pierce these panties with my dick. It was so hard that that concept didn't appear as only fantasy anymore.

Speaking of, right after I revealed Christine's shiny pussy, with a trimmed strip of dark red hair (hm, so she is natural ginger after all), I stood up, untied the laces in my sweatpants and rapidly pulled them down. My rigid dick, finally freed from its prison, jumped in the air like a flagpole, even slightly hitting my abdomen. Then I kneeled back again, right between her legs.

Christine gasped loudly, and for the first time I heard her swearing: "Oh, shit, it's so big!"

Yeah, it is, and I'm gonna stuff you with it. Balls deep, babe. -- I smirked devilishly at my thoughts, but decided to spare her with such talking, at least for now. She had this favorite expression of mine, which I loved seeing at women's faces. A mixture of arousal and a bit of fear, once they realize what size they'll need to accommodate.

In order to help Christine imagine what she would be dealing with, I pressed my hips to her pelvis and placed my dick on her stomach. The tip was on her navel.

She was breathing heavily, her chest was going up and down, and that brought my attention to her nipples. Leaned forward slightly and caught them between my thumbs and index fingers. Christine moaned again, and I felt as her palm began to delicately stroke my cock, pressing it against her hard lower abdominals. I knew that she wanted to assess the size in that way, and I also knew that it shocked her even more.

My fingers were squeezing and rotating her stiff nipples, and her entire body was squirming.

"Oh, god, please, please..." She was mumbling like a fever.

"What, Christine? What are you asking me for?" A decent man would restrain himself from teasing a woman in such a position, but I was far from decency.

"I want to feel you inside me. But be gentle, please. I've never been with a guy so big..." She whispered with a bit of a worried expression. And once again, a modest man would hold his ego in reams, but I was the same modest, as I was decent. Christine's words spread this delicious balsam over my cosmic-size narcissism.

"The gentle massage part is already behind us, Christine." I grinned widely and winked at her, so she could take it as a joke, however in fact it wasn't. But she didn't have to know it, he, he. She will figure this out though, pretty soon.

I straightened up. Then, withdrawing my hips a bit, I grabbed my shaft and first just rubbed Christine's pussy with the tip. After a while of teasing -- very pleasant for both of us... well, for me for sure -- I began to press harder, relentlessly, against her entrance.