Michael's Massages: the Beginning

Normally his attentions to my bum and the tops of my thighs caused me to try and disguise my little moans and gasps of pleasure; today I simply hissed and squealed out my excitement, I was out of control. It didn't take Michael long to make me utterly focused on that moment when he would stop teasing me and I could tumble into his chair and fuck myself stupid. My inhibitions were gone, I would perform for him; though how much better it would be if he dropped his trousers and took me, fucked me, I needed him, I yearned for him. He had juiced me up slick and needy and fired me up far beyond desperation, I was his for the taking, no need to ask.

At last he paused and took his hands away. I rolled off his couch in a trice and he demanded, "what the hell do you think you are you doing?" For the first time ever I heard real annoyance, possibly even a hint of anger, in his tone. I froze, whatever did he want? Then I smiled, my joy was boundless; of course, he was actually going to fuck me.

He must have realised his tenor was an angry one because before he continued he moderated his tone. "Sorry Sue. I didn't intend to sound cross but before you show me how you masturbate I was hoping to try a few things out on you from the erotic sections of my massage books. I've hardly had an opportunity to experiment using those sections before and there were a couple of techniques I'm really curious about. They imply that you can use them to drive a woman insane with lust but that has to be an exaggeration?"

'No it damn well doesn't,' I thought. 'I'm already insane with lust. And, Jesus, you want to try more,' but I also desperately wanted to please him so all I said was "all right then, do your worst," and settled myself back down onto his couch.

"On your back first please Sue, one of the sections about nipples was especially fascinating. That's why I needed to break off just then, to wash and dry my hands, this doesn't work with oily hands; well that's what the book said." Again he draped my legs over the sides of the couch so I could not gain release by squeezing my thighs together to mash my clit and this time I wondered if his precious books had recommended this. If they had, well it suggested the authors had really know what they were talking about. Moreover, if he were following instructions of such quality his worst might be a lot more intense than I'd imagined and a Hell of a lot more than I'd bargained for.

At first Michael simply cupped and moulded my breasts, this was the first time he'd really handled them and there's plenty to handle. His cupping turned to a gentle squeezing and I relaxed, whilst erotic this was far less intense than the stimulation he had just been administering to my bum and the tops of my thighs: my opportunity to calm down a little. The air whistled out. Wrong! Michael had pinched both of my substantial nipples between a finger and thumb and was rolling them whilst applying a firm pressure. My breath was shuddering in and juddering out, my clit was on fire; normally this would have felt good and aroused me quickly but in my already hyper-sensitised state it served to remind me just how badly I wanted to come. "Fuck me Michael. Please fuck me! I need you. I need you now." I don't know if I said this out loud, mumbled it or merely thought it but in any event Michael ignored my blatant desperation and continued to toy with my nipples.

Michael's ministrations had rendered my nipples hard, red and swollen and now he had caught each teat between the tips of two fingers and was grazing the protruding flattish tops with the tips of his thumbs: I panted, I yelped, I gurgled and maybe I screamed a little. It tickled, it teased, it set my hips rocking and detonated an incendiary device in my clit. Before I could get used to the enormity of the sensation Michael switched back to rolling my nipples, except now that triggered another clit-bomb: I was frantic, I needed relief, I needed release, a hand snaked towards my muff.

"Oh no you don't. Bad girl," he grabbed my wrist quickly and forced my hand away. "I take it that's as intense as my manual indicated it would be. But not yet, it's not time to for you to masturbate yet. Maybe I need to show you a bit more about my couch?"

"No! No! No!," I howled. "Let me come, let me come, I need it, I need it, I need it!" I was humping the air and practically hysterical with pure animal need. He was driving my crazy.

"Now slip your hand through here," he said with a little laugh. "It's not tight or anything, you can easily wriggle out of it if you want too but it will remind you to let me to do the massaging." Michael slipped my hand through a loose strap that was attached somewhere above my head and behind me. If I simply tugged it held my hand in place so in order to free myself I had to think about how to wriggle out of it. He walked around the couch and slipped my other wrist through a similar loop. Once more he grasped my nipples between finger and thumb, squeezed firmly and began rolling them. I closed my eyes and panted, well I panted until he began rubbing the tips of my nipples again, then I gasped and yowled and sighed and moaned with frustration.

Michael kept up this toying with my nipples until my hyperventilating was making my head spin. Only once I was totally dizzy with lust did he free my wrists and roll me over onto my tummy. Jesus was I wet and was I needy! My sex felt as if it were a furnace; a sopping wet furnace? He slipped my hands back through the loops but after that he also grasped an ankle and began to work my foot though a loop.

"What the?" I expostulated.

"It's just to help you to remember to keep still. I don't want you to hurt yourself." He grabbed my other foot and soon I was restrained gently, face down with my legs held well apart.

I squealed, he was pouring slightly chilly oil along the crack of my bottom, lots of oil. "Don't worry," he reassured me, this is from the same book I found the nipple massage in."

Don't worry! That nipple massage had left me so wet and so desperately randy it had become a form of sexual torture and now he was about to set to work on even more sensitive places. Besides, wet as I was why did we need oil, my juices would surely be more than enough to get the job done? "Oh fuck!," I wailed, totally out of control.

Michael had just parted my cheeks by running his two thumbs between them, his nails grazing the deepest part of the crack and when they arrived at my little puckered nether hole and teased that I had felt a warm gush between my legs. Worse I had let Michael know how arousing I found it to be because his gentle but totally intimate caress had caused me to swear and then shake and emit a series of shuddering sighs. Worse still, when I realised how clearly I was signalling my pleasure at his tickling my anus, I blushed crimson.

"Hummmm... interesting," was all Michael said. He continued to tickle my nether hole and, though I tried my best, I failed completely not to react. I needed him to stop that, because my obvious pleasure was... well so embarrassing. I also wanted him to carry on because, despite my embarrassment, it felt so wonderful. I secretly hoped he would press a little more firmly, open me up a little because, Hell, it felt so good. Instead he paused and from the sounds I decided he was rinsing his hands.

"Oh shit. No! Please Michael. God no!" He was now kneading along between the tops of my legs and my labia. Not enough to tip me over the edge, not quite, but more than enough to make me want to be tipped over the edge with an urgency that was desperate. In no time at all, all I could think about was my need to come. I shook and wriggled and wiggled and soon I understood why he had strapped me to the couch. My clit was desperate for a gentle caress, my poor minge was soaked, hot and pulsing. I so desperately wanted to feel two fingers slip inside of me, or better still Michael's stiff cock opening me up and sliding in and out of me. I wanted to come more desperately than I had ever wanted to before. Yet still he continued with these firm caresses that made me so desperate for release; caresses that consistently failed to provide me with any.

"If you fight your restraints the book suggests switching to this." A hand slipped under me. Michael began to massage my pudendum, hard enough for the stimulation to be felt by my clitoris but far too gently for it to be able to trigger an orgasm. This was simply maddening, just the merest fraction more stimulation and my head would explode with bliss as I thrashed my way through a massive climax.

"Jesus Christ, not that! Please? No!" Michael had flicked the tip of my clit ever so lightly with the edge of a nail and an orgasm had risen but then flopped back right before it could explode. Michael waited until I had completed a vast shuddering sigh of disappointment and then he repeated the manoeuvre. I could have wept, he was taking me so close yet still denying me the blissful orgasm that I craved so badly. Now he knew what to do, so he did: tickle my anus, mould my pudendum, flick my clit, cycling his way through these three moves in an ever changing pattern of combinations that had me wriggling and struggling, sighing noisily and begging him to make me come. He ignored me, continuing until my efforts left me quite exhausted.

"Now Sue before I finish and you begin I want you to promise me one more little favour," and he flicked my clit.

"Fuck Michael," I gasped, "pheeew," I wailed as my breath simply whistled out. "Whatever you want to do Michael. I don't care anymore. Just do it," I sobbed out, almost incoherently.

"No Sue, I'm serious, I want you to promise properly so listen. Each time you are about to come Sue I want you to tell me, so I know exactly when you are enjoying an orgasm. Can you manage that? Can you do that for..."

"Fuck Michael, yes!" I interrupted hysterically. "For Christ's sakes just let me get on with it. I'm fuckin' desperate." But he carried on for a while longer, using the trio of anus, clit, soft flesh to keep me thrashing and squirming on his couch whilst begging him to make me come.

When he finally stopped I was wiped out. I simply lay there panting as he freed my wrists and ankles from their restraining straps; I was far too dazed and confused to even manage that simple operation for myself. Then he lifted me up in strong arms, swung me over and lowered me gently into the waiting armchair. He spread my legs wide and knelt down between them with his face just inches from my wet muff all ready to watch my performance closely. I simply lolled there, panting with exhaustion until he gently parted my labia and gave my clit one more gentle flick with the edge of a nail. Electricity! That was all it took, one little flick. I gasped, massively and all my needs were re-kindled, my desperation pathetic in its urgency. I scrabbled at my dressing gown, fumbled out my vibrator, crammed it into my hot wet hole and began shafting myself furiously.

Only just remembering in time, I screamed, "I'm coming" and an instant later it felt as if the top of my head had been blown clean away. That climax was nuclear, it began with a dildo somewhere inside of me vibrating deep between my legs but it expanded explosively to consume my whole body causing me to shake and shudder and howl with satisfaction. The pleasure was brutal but it did nothing to lessen my need. I kept right on pounding myself vigorously, the vibrator slipping in and out of me rapidly, all the while making little squelchy sounds. I didn't care, I needed these. "Jesus... again... Coming again," I stuttered out, right before a second massive orgasm ripped through me making me buck and quiver. "God that feels so good!" I sighed - well according to Michael I screamed out joyously. Despite the intense pleasure and the huge release those two orgasms afforded me I still didn't slacken the pace of my relentless pounding one iota. My third crashing orgasm took a little longer but it was still huge, vast, massive, my legs quivered, my bum bounced on the seat and I rocked back and forth in the chair.

"You've switched! Why?" Michael was absolutely correct, with his face inches from my muff he'd spotted that I'd changed my tactics. I'd ceased to pound myself and was now pressing the buzzing vibrator against my clit, rolling it about that delicate swollen bud.

" 'Cause I can come much harder this way. Oh my God yes I can," I cried ecstatically, my bum bumping up and down in the chair. "Oh my God. Yes! I can: I am," and my forth mind-numbing, thigh-quivering, toe-curling orgasm tore through me. I twisted the dildo from my clit, as I come my clit becomes super sensitive to a vibrator and keeping it there would have been too much of a good thing. Still my vibe was soon back exploring that delicate little nub and I was gasping and sighing once more. As yet another orgasm built my other hand slipped to a nipple. I pinched, I howled out, "again!" and rocked and wriggled my way through a fifth climax.

For numbers six and seven I switched back to frigging my hot wet, slippery sex, biting my lips and squeezing my nipples as I shafted myself. Those two orgasms, whilst still both powerful, were not as intense as the earlier ones but nevertheless they overwhelmed me, swamping my senses of everything except pleasure. Finally I rounded off with a more gentle orgasm delivered by returning the vibrator to my clit. After that I sighed, "I'm spent," and slumped in limp heap, totally flopped out in Michael's big chair.

"My you did enjoy yourself," chuckled Michael as he stood up; "I knew women could have multiple orgasms but so many such powerful ones, so rapidly? I didn't know about that. You were shaking and sobbing; you really needed that... those," he hastily corrected himself. "When you told me you didn't care and promised to do whatever I was about to request without even hearing what I wanted - you really would have done just about anything if it made you come, wouldn't you?"

"Yes," I managed to husk faintly, through my vacuuming down air. "You could have done what ever you wanted to me and I'd have let you, I was powerless to stop you. I'd have done anything to come."

"So we should try this again. Next week perhaps?"

"Hell, yes," I shrieked enthusiastically and then for some totally inexplicable reason I burst into an uncontrollable flood of tears of gratitude. 'Hell yes indeed.'