tagRomanceMassage Therapist, My Wife

Massage Therapist, My Wife



This is an adult story, containing sensitive material of a sexual nature, including graphic descriptions of consensual, "vanilla" sex within marriage. If you find such material offensive or are underage, do not read further, but please bypass this story for one more suitable for you.

This story is written for enjoyment and entertainment purposes only, and no commercial profit is expected to be made from it. It may be copied for personal use or for posting on other sites, provided the sites are free sites . . . it may NOT be posted on any site that requires a "membership fee" of any kind. Posting is permitted on a site that requires an “Adult Verification Service”, provided the service costs only a few dollars a year for access to many sites (the way “Adultcheck” used to be) but not on an "Adultcheck Gold" site, which requires much more money.

This story reflects the casual relationship between a married couple, reflecting their total acceptance of each other’s fantasies.

Birth Control is assumed in this story. Either the wife uses a diaphragm or she is ‘on the pill’. In 'real life' every reasonable adult should know that he or she should behave responsibly when participating in sexual activities and they wish to avoid unwanted conception and the spread of disease.

I appreciate your comments, both positive and negative.

Feedback is welcome at the link below.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I was sitting at my desk working on a story for the Internet, when I heard the key in the door. Mary, my wife, had just returned from work.

Mary is in her mid 20s, very short (about 5' even) and where as she is not fat, she was definitely stocky. She unquestionably has lovely breasts, but they tend to get lost on her big-boned frame under the bulky sweatshirt that she generally wears.

Mary is one of the instructors in the massage training department at a local hospital. The hospital had been listed as one of the best 100 in the country, and it had an impeccable reputation holding itself to the highest standards of professionalism and ethics.

I greeted to her and she came up behind me putting her arms around my shoulders in a gentle hug, kissing my forehead. I leaned back and placed my hands over her arms, returning her hug. We often greeted like this when she returned from work finding me at my desk.

“Would you like a massage?” she whispered into my ear? (These were ‘code words’ we had developed. It probably meant she had given a massage to someone who was especially sexy and really turned her on. Unable to entertain her fantasies where she worked, she brought them home and was asking me if I was willing to indulge her fantasy.)

Turned to look up at her, her eyes were glittering and her tongue wet her lips, but most of all, there was a lustful look in her eyes.

“I’d love one!” I responded immediately, and stood. Taking her hand, we walked into the ‘studio’ where she had her portable massage table set up with a CD player to provide gentle music and her collection of lotions on an end table.

“I’ll be outside,” she said. “Let me know when you’re ready.” And she stepped out of the room. She was following the hospital procedures. Obviously her fantasy had already begun. But I noticed she left the door opened just a crack.

Taking off my clothes, I lay them on a chair, moving rather slowly. I knew she was watching me through the barely opened door. This was a pleasure she couldn’t enjoy at work, since she had to maintain the highest ethical behavior, but she knew she could ‘cheat’ a little with me.

When completely naked, I took a moment to glance around the room, knowing this would give her an opportunity to get a 360-degree view of me before I slipped beneath the sheet on the massage table.

Almost immediately, there was a tap at the door. “Are you ready?”

“Sure, come on in.” I responded.

She had slipped out of her bulky Sweatshirt and baggy sweats and was wearing a very proper white lab coat, buttoned from bottom to top. But I knew that she was naked beneath it.

Whereas this wasn’t a common occurrence with us, it had occurred often enough that we both knew what was happening.

The Hospital where Mary worked had massage school. Sometimes, a doctor would order a massage for a particular patient. Older hospital patients could join a ‘Senior Friends’ club for $15.00 a year, which qualified the spouse of the patient for one free meal in the cafeteria each day the patient was in the hospital. One of the 'perks’ of joining was the patient or a family friend could get a free massage at the hospital’s health club. Of course, the health club was a teaching arm of the hospital where they trained student therapists. The ‘free’ massage was a way that the health club could get people for the students to practice on. Most of the ‘therapists’ were students, but Mary was in fact a teacher and one of the better masseuses in the organization.

Unfortunately, her skills were lost on me. I could take it or leave it. I had heard people rave about the pleasure and satisfaction and sense of well being they received from being massaged. I never experienced that. On occasions I got stiff or pulled muscles, and Mary was marvelous at working out the aches and pains. But other than that, massages did nothing for me!

But that didn’t prevent me from enjoying the pleasure of having my wife take the time to run her hands and fingers over my entire body as foreplay to an activity that I thoroughly DID enjoy.

Usually Mary’s clients were hospital patients, or spouses of ‘Senior Friend’ members. Generally, they were old ladies with dumpy bodies or fat old men with pot bellies: People who were taking advantage of the ‘free massage’ that came with the ‘senior friend’ membership. Occasionally, though, a younger relative would come in to the ‘health club’. And every once in a while, a real ‘hunk’ would receive the magic of my wife’s fingers and hands. Of course, Mary had to maintain absolute propriety and professionalism at work, so she would studiously perform the therapeutic tasks she was assigned. But while maintaining her strict professionalism at work, her libidinous mind might be building up a wild fantasy about the man who was lying on the table receiving the gentle, or sometimes not so gentle, ministrations of her hands.

And if Mary’s fantasy was good enough or strong enough, she would come home at the end of the day and put her arms around me and ask, “ Would you like a massage?”

I had learned early in our marriage that it would be very foolish of me to refuse that offer since the end results were always very satisfying sex. I suppose I could get upset that I knew she was fantasying about someone else as we would make love. Some people might even consider it to be ‘mental adultery’. But that didn’t bother me since I knew that in the end, she fulfilled her fantasy in my bed!

The lab coat had come off. Lying on my back, she would stand by my head and run her hands down my chest, dangling her breasts over my face. That was my cue to lift my head and kiss the normally hidden mounds on her chest. Then, as she continued massaging the front of my chest, I would gently suck on her already hard nipples.

Eventually she would withdraw and move to my legs, firmly running her hands up the length of my legs. She would ‘accidentally’ graze my testicles, and as she massaged my thighs, an accidental movement would caress my manhood, which by now was standing at attention. The ‘accidents’ became more frequent and she began applying more oil as she massaged me in a much less ‘ethical’ way.

Soon she was kneeling on the table beside me as her fingers did their magic. Then she was straddling me, gently guiding my well-oiled member into her. She continued to massage my chest as she began rising and sinking on me. At this point, she was deeply into her fantasy, so I carefully lay there, passively. But, today, she wanted my participation. She took my hands and gently massaged them, before raising them to her breasts.

She rode me harder as I squeezed her breasts and rolled her nipples between my fingers. She began leaning forward as she would settle her weight upon my hips and then rise up, once again offering me her nipples as her change of angle increased the friction against her clitoris. Her eyes closed, she was breathing heavily, as she whispered, “Are you close?”

“Yes,” came my strangled replay and we both began pumping harder into each other. It was her fantasy, so I held back until she shrieked and spasmed around me, pounding up and down almost frantically. I relaxed my control and immediately, my seed spurted into her.

It must have been an outstanding fantasy for her because her orgasm seemed to go on and on, and I had to really work trying to keep myself hard enough to stay inside her until she finally collapsed on top of me panting and gasping for breath. I put my arms around her, whispering I loved her as I brushed the hair from her face tucking it behind her ear.

We remained unmoving for a long time, as our breathing returned to normal and we lay there caressing each other. Her groin was still pressed firmly against me, although I had long since become so soft that I had slipped out of her.

“You’re so good to me,” she whispered, letting her fingers curl the hair on my chest. “I’m so thankful that I have you to come home to! It would be very hard on me to have to come home to an empty house, sometimes.”

“I’m always here for you,” I whispered.

“And I appreciate you!” she answered.

Then she began to tell me about her day. One of her clients had been a professional entertainer, someone we both had seen on TV. The client’s wife had been admitted to the hospital for surgery, and he had come for a massage while she was in the operating room. At work, Mary had treated him with absolute professionalism. But when she came home, she lived out her fantasy with me. Although I hadn’t known any of the details, I was more than happy to oblige her.

Finally, I felt Mary relax completely on top of me. She looked at me with dreamy eyes. “Your turn, now?”

I nodded. “If you’re willing,” I responded.

“I hope I’ll always be willing!” she whispered, moving to one side as I moved to the other on the narrow massage therapist table. Soon she was on her back and I was beside her, caressing her face. She nuzzled my hand as her hand once again found my manhood. It didn’t take us long as I sucked her breasts again and stroked her mound, gently caressing her clit and spreading her dripping lips. Almost as soon as I was erect, she drew me on top of her and we made long, slow love missionary style. This time, she waited until I climaxed, since this was my turn, but she somehow managed to climax just moments after I did.

This climax wasn’t as spectacular for either of us as the first one had been. But that had been living a fantasy. This was a simple of expression of love. Fully satisfying! Completely enjoyable. An ultimate expression of affection and devotion to each other.

We both basked in the after glow as we snuggled as best we could on the narrow table. Then as if my mutual consent, we got up, changed the linen, and took a shower together, carefully cleansing each other. Then drying each other all over.

And together, we dressed in our nightclothes, and went into the kitchen to prepare supper.

I appreciate your comments, both positive and negative.

Feedback is welcome at the link below.

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