Massage Control

So they'd moved to a different level of intimacy. One where Michy was giving more of herself than her jumbled moral beliefs was comfortable with. She was letting control, albeit only slightly, move away from her. She was becoming a little too dependent on him. And she was thinking of the pleasure he was gaining and that she was giving when in her code she should only have been thinking of what she was getting.

There was also one other very significant item that came into play. An object that right from the start she knew she should try to avoid. An aspect that she was aware could even more upset the fine balance she was seeking with the unusual arrangement. That was his cock. From early on she'd been aware that he was, as they say, well endowed. There was no doubt that he had a big cock and even less doubt that he gained a quick erection that he held throughout each and every session. At first he'd unsuccessfully tried to hide that from her. As they both "came out" though and the need to do that went away so he didn't try to hide it.

As he stood alongside her, perhaps massaging her back or legs, so she could see it. Could see its shape and length. Could see its full majesty rearing up just inches from her face. So many times it would have been so easy for her to reach out and pull the track trousers down and so many times she nearly did. She had moments when she felt a strong and almost overpowering need to feel him, stroke it and lick it. She imagined doing that as she masturbated in her bed alone and thoughts of just what it would look like would frequently fill her mind at the most inconvenient moments.

Like most women Michy had little interest in mens' tackle when she was not involved sexually. She didn't go around imagining what they had between their legs, didn't have fantasies of seeing them and had no interest in looking at photos of penises, erect or otherwise. They were just something that had no meaning. After all "seen one, seen 'em all" was what most women felt. That is until they were involved sexually, until they were aroused and until they were with a man undressing and caressing each other in preparation for sex. Then it did matter. Then it did feature. Then the cock that was soon to invade her insides became the center of her universe.

More and more this was happening with Brad. Michy accepted that when she was aroused she absolutely loved a man's cock. The feel, the hardness, the implied power and the anticipation of how it would feel. How it would feel to her touch, in her hand, snuggling against her belly, between her breasts, in her mouth and inside her. She loved the taste and the smell of them and she adored the feeling of power she gained from knowing she had made that man hard and that she was keeping him that way.

So Brad's cock became a focus for her thinking and that frightened her. She felt that if she gave into the extraordinarily strong urges she had to see and touch him then that would be going too far. She would be giving too much. The balance between taking and giving would tilt and she would be being "unfaithful" to Mark!

It got worse. Occasionally as he was massaging he would brush against her. His bulging erection would touch her head, press against her arm, hip or foot. The heat and hardness as is did sent unwelcome tingles through her. Tingles that aroused and disturbed her and made her want to reach out and feel it. She managed to resist that. But she wasn't able to resist touching him. As he bent forward, perhaps slipping his tongue between her opened legs or taking an aching nipple between his teeth, so often in the past few sessions Michy's arm would go round his waist. The first time it merely rested on his hip. Then her hand would slide under the loose tee shirt he'd taken to wearing instead of the buttoned up white jacket. Her fingers brushed across his bare flesh, they lightly caressed his back and on one occasion she found them slipping into the waist band of his track trousers. She found herself wanting to touch and stroke his skin, run her hands over his young, taught, muscular body and, worse of all, have it crush her nakedness against it. This was too much. Far too much. Too much closeness and too much intimacy. Too much giving and not enough taking.

The balance, she realised, was beginning to slip away from her.

It was a week since her last appointment and a week until the next. She was at home, alone again, for the evening. As she sipped her fourth glass of white wine she thought back to the last session and the events of that flooded her mind.

"I have to get away quickly this evening," Brad had said when he came into the treatment room, "I'm going cycling," he explained nodding at the tight, lycra, cycling shorts he was wearing.

"Sure," she'd replied feeling a lump in her throat as her eyes were drawn, as if by magnets, to the bulge created in the incredibly tight shorts. "Mmmm," she thought, "he really is well stacked."

Brad enjoyed practically everything to do with sex. He'd never had any inhibitions when with women and got quite a kick from exhibiting himself to them. He was at ease with his body and totally confident when naked. He knew from experience that he was well hung and that women admired his cock. So as he'd massaged Michy and his erection had grown he hadn't been concerned. In fact he got an extra kick from seeing the outline of his, nearly, eight inch, thick cock and full balls under the thin, shiny material that clung to him like a second skin.

It was that memory, that sight that filled her mind as she sat in her Docklands apartment.

He'd massaged her back and legs with her laying on her front and had then asked her to turn over. As usual only essential words were exchanged between them and then in a polite and really quite distant way almost in the same manner as when she'd been a "proper" patient.

"Could you turn over now?" he'd asked.

It was as she turned that she saw him, saw it, saw the most fantastically erotic sight she could ever remember seeing. He was alongside her no more than a foot from her face. Her gaze couldn't have avoided seeing him if she'd wanted it to. And that she didn't want. For right there was the outline of his cock in every stark and arousing detail. He quite obviously wasn't wearing anything under the very, very thin shorts. She could see every aspect of it then and could recall each one now. The thickness, it must have been as sturdy as her wrist. The length, it must have reached his naval. She could see the outline perfectly. The thick veins that ran up it. The ridge down the back of it that vanished into the pouch that held his balls, his big round balls she thought, her hand absent-mindedly, almost, sliding inside her shirt. She could see the ridge that ran round it just beneath the bulbous head and the clear swell of that inside the shorts. They almost need not have been there, she smiled, for all the good they did at hiding it.

How she'd managed it she still couldn't recall. The urge to reach out and peel that thin material away from its gorgeous cargo was as near to as being irresistible as anything she'd previously encountered. But somehow she did. It had been such a close call that she began to reconsider their arrangement. It couldn't go on. She realised that now. It was impossible. A man and a woman just couldn't long term do what she'd set out to do. The temptations were too great. It had to end she concluded.

Brad was surprised at how chatty she was. She'd smiled broadly at him when he'd greeted at reception and had asked him how he was. When he came into the treatment room he saw that she was wearing white stockings or tights under the robe that was pulled tightly round her neck with, unusually recently, no cleavage on sight. For the past few sessions she'd hardly seemed to have bothered to pull the lapels of the robe together and often when he'd walked in he'd seen most of her boobs and sometimes her nipples. This time, though, they were pulled tightly together. She'd asked if he'd had a good weekend and whether he was busy enquiring about new patients. He'd replied politely feeling pleased that she was more talkative.

"I have a surprise for you Brad," she said.

"Yes?" He asked surprised and pleased. "What is it?"

"This," she said, undoing the tie of the robe and letting it fall away from her.

He gulped at the sight. She was wearing one of the short coats that the receptionists used.

She'd suddenly had the idea. She'd noted where the receptionists hung their coats when they left and, as she was supposed to be changing, she'd sneaked out and tried a few on until she found one that fitted her perfectly. Her description of perfectly was different, though, from what its wearer would have used. On her it would be loose but on Michy it was tight. On her it would have been worn undone but on Michy it was done up. On her there would have been trousers or a skirt and top under it, on Michy there wasn't. On her it would have been flowing but on Michy it was clinging. Clinging and stretched. Stretched so tightly that across her breasts and bottom the thin, white cotton became almost see-through. See-through enough to show the outline of her tits and the shadow of her areola, the bumps of her nipples, that were already erect. It was buttoned up. Well as much as the two sizes too small coat could be. She'd left at least one button too many undone to be discrete and her full tits were tumbling out of it. Where the coat was stretched there were gaps by the buttons so that as Brad looked at her he could see the sides of her tits and her belly through the edges of the material. As she walked across the room towards the table where he kept the oils and other paraphernalia of a physio. he saw that, of course it was too short to be worn without anything under it. As she leaned across the table it rode up and he saw the lacy tops of her stocking. The leaning also stretched it more tightly across her delicious buttocks and hips accentuating their full roundness and showing, almost as if it was diaphanous, the outline of the thong that snaked between the two orbs.

Michy had hit upon the idea that night she'd been recalling the view of Brad in his cycling shorts. The evening when once again she'd ended up masturbating about him, alarming herself as she climaxed by imagining that awesome cock inside her. That day when she'd decided it all had to end.

"Role reversal," had, from somewhere, come into her mind. "I'll give him a massage," she'd thought. "I'll become the masseuse and he the patient. I'll be the most sexy masseuse possible and I'll massage him. That still means I'm in control, still taking and not really giving," her rather drunk mind had reconciled.

She'd hatched up the plan about using one of the receptionist's coats and had enjoyed buying the white, lacy topped self support stockings. She'd also bought a new thong and had toyed with a half-cup bra but had rejected that in favour of bare tits.

"Oh fucking hell Michy," Brad breathed as he looked at her, "you look fantastic and so fucking raunchy.

She smiled. "Well that's good then isn't it for that's exactly how I feel."

"Jesus," he whispered his eyes taking in every detail of this amazing woman in her white tunic. He'd seen them so often on the other women and not once had they appeared in any way to have any sex appeal at all. On Michy, though, it took on a whole new dimension. He had no idea why she had decided to wear it and, of course, wasn't aware of her intentions.

"Ok," she started, "here's the plan. I'm the masseuse Brad and you're the patient."

It hit him then, "fuck me she's going to massage me," he thought his heart pounding his pulses racing as the full realisation registered with him.

"Oh yes Michy, yes," he blubbered.

Her face lit up with a beaming smile she said, "well you know the drill don't you? You'd better go into the changing room, put on a gown and then we'll get going."

He could hardly restrain himself in the changing room and he literally ripped his clothes off and put on the robe.

"Undo the robe, hold it together then lay on the table on your front please," she said in a brisk and business-like manner when he returned. The prospect of at last seeing him naked was making her feel excited. A slight shudder of expectancy ran through her as she watched him undo the tie. She knew that shortly she could see his cock. Shortly she would see it but not yet. She didn't feel that she'd be able to resist the temptation.

With shaking hands she reached out and peeled the robe down. Down his back, across his bottom and along his legs. Her gaze was riveted on what she saw. He was even more beautiful, if such a term can be applied to a man, than she'd imagined. Broad shoulders and a muscular back that tapered down to a narrow trim waist. His skin was smooth. It was a golden colour and looked so lickable. His arse was as near perfection as an arse could be. Full and rounded but pert and shapely. Defined cheeks with a deep valley between them and a smattering of, but not too much, hair. His legs were lithe and slimly muscular and very easy she found to imagine being between hers as he hammered into her.

Shuddering with want and desire for the body that lay before her Michy started to massage him just as he had her. Light, soft, fingertip touches. Gentle, gliding movements. Sensuous, erotic actions. On his scalp, his face, his arms that were cradling his head and on his hands and fingers. His broad shoulders, his smooth back and his narrow waist. Leaning over him she caressed him in both armpits simultaneously and then slowly ran her fingers downwards. Down the side of his body. Down the edges of his breasts. He stirred and sighed as she did that lifting a little, suggestively and invitingly almost asking her. She slid her hand under him, her fingers finding his nipple as he pressed his breast against her hand just as she had done so many times to him. She cupped his breast, fondling and stroking it just as she liked it.

"Oh my God Michy. Oh fuck that's incredible," he moaned sending shudders of delight through her. She was thrilled at how he was assuming her role and she his. He the female and she the male.

Then his legs. His sculpted thighs and muscular bisceps. Up and down, sliding ever further upwards, almost touching his balls or arse. Almost but not quite. That wouldn't be right. That wasn't her plan, well not if her resistance could hold out.

It was absolutely amazing but a little puzzling for Brad. The change in Michy, the clothes she was wearing and the complete reversal of roles. These he couldn't understand but that didn't bother him at all. It was more than compensated for by her appearance and manner and by the incredibly erotic nature of the massage. In his mind he was wondering whether the change would go as far as her letting him fuck her. He desperately wanted that and his cock grew harder and harder as he lay there her hands doing the most arousing things to him. "Please, please," he said to himself as they slid up his thigh several times almost, but not quite, touching his balls. Hopefully, encouragingly to her, he opened his legs further until he could spread them no more and several time he raised himself from the table slightly.

She could see that she was having the desired effect on him. She smiled at the way he tried to persuade her to go further. To touch him where he needed to be touched, where it would excite him the most and give him the greatest pleasure. The place where any normal lover would have touched him, where she desperately wanted to touch him. The place, though, where she didn't dare touch him. No Michy had to fight to stop herself from caressing his balls and from grabbing his cock that still she'd never seen.

But now was the time. The time for her to see it and for her to put herself to the ultimate test. For her to examine just how strongly she held those bizarre views on her faithfulness and for her to find out whether she really could resist the quite extreme temptations.

"Turn over," she said her voice tight and heavy.

As she saw it she felt her heart start to pound and her pulses race. The vision she'd imagined so many times was so much more exciting in reality than she could ever have imagined. It was a glorious cock. A wonderful specimen. A beautiful penis. Her immediate reaction was to make love to it. Make love with her hands and fingers, tits and nipples and lips and tongue. To cosset it, adore it and worship at it. But she didn't, she simply gazed at it in the wordless style that was the feature of their extraordinary relationship. Gazed at it as her entire body shook with lust and want.

It was big. Not scaringly so but certainly larger than any she'd ever had or seen in real life. It was thick and it did, as good as, reach his naval. It was a nice tan colour, uncut she noted, with a huge purple head stretching the foreskin so much it slid back to beneath the bulbous end. That was glistening, maybe damp she thought, as she simply stood there ogling the naked young body alongside her on the massage table.

Brad revelled in the show. He wasn't in the least embarrassed to lay there naked with a woman staring at his erection. He loved that and the feelings the blatant exhibitionism gave him. But he so wanted her to touch it, do something, give him something. After all he'd given so much and she'd taken. Perhaps that's what this change was all about? Perhaps she was going to give herself to him?

Taking such extraordinary care Michy let her fingers trail across his thighs. Up and down them and into each groin. Over his flat stomach and around his waist. Gently and softly her fingertips ran round the huge outline of his penis going so close but never quite touching it. They slid down and fumbled in his pubic hairs and they slid up and pressed into his naval a mere centimetre at most from the twitching head of his awesome, straining manhood.

As her fingers glided over him so Brad slightly thrust himself upwards, pushing his cock towards her hoping and wishing she would touch it but she didn't. She was right next to him, her tits ballooning out of the ridiculously tight tunic, the bottom of it, he noticed looking down, riding up above the lacy tops of her stockings. The cheeks of her bum were on view. He had to feel them and his hand snaked out and fondled them. It felt good to her. She liked his touch and she opened her legs. His fingers slid across the gusset of her thong and pressed pushing the silk slightly inside her wet lips. He rubbed her like that as she flittered her fingertips nearer and nearer to his cock that was now aching and throbbing to be held and loved. She could see it straining and the thought of feeling that with her fingers or in her mouth was so appealing that she almost gave in. Somehow, though, she got the strength to resist and instead moved her fingers away and ran them over his chest.

"Pull them down," she said hoarsely as his fingers played with the slither of silk that went between her cheeks, "pull my knickers down, pull them away from me, pull them away from my cunt," she went on feeling the need to talk dirty..

Now even more confused for never before had she let him undress her Brad leaned over a bit and pulled the garment as far down her legs as his position allowed. They were around her knees, almost. She moved away from the table by a few feet and bending over removed them and then stood straight again the ridiculously brief slither of silk and lace in her hand.

Brad stared back at her taking in the wondrous sight as his hand, almost unconsciously, rested on his cock. He stroked it knowing she'd see that. It felt good for both of them. He saw her white painted fingernails go to the top button of the tight tunic. A moments fumbling and it was open. Her tits seemed to burst from it pleased and relieved to be released from its confines. Then the next button and next until it was completely open. She shrugged it off and stood there naked apart from her white hold ups and shoes holding her panties in her hand.