Need for Release Pt. 01

Isabella was nervous. She had never before gone for a massage. For months her shoulders and hips had been painfully tense from spending too much time at her desk and on the spin bikes at the gym; she needed a release.

She couldn't help it. As she drove closer to the massage appointment, her anxiety burgeoned. She knew she would have to be naked, and she hadn't yet forgotten about her humiliating experiences in the office last week. She couldn't trust her body anymore. To calm her nerves, she rubbed her pussy over her leggings as she drove to the appointment with her new masseuse.

It was her coworker Ethan who had recommended she start seeing a masseuse. Ethan is a tall man with quiet confidence and golden eyes. He walked into her office one day last week as she had her body bent over her desk with one leg up, attempting to stretch her tight hips. She had let out a soft moan, unaware of his presence in the room. An abrupt "ahem," alerted her of the visitor. Immediately, she turned pink with embarrassment. She then scrambled to pull her leg up and off the desk, realizing her new lacy pink panties were visible to the man staring at her. Flustered, she smoothed her skirt and took a deep breath.

Casually Ethan spoke, "you're very flexible Miss."

A quiet and uncoordinated combination of a laugh and cough escaped Isabella's flushed lips, and she nodded in reply.

In that moment, Ethan felt an intense urge to grab hold of her curly blond hair and fuck her full pink lips. Instead, he gave a crooked smile and maintained a polite demeanor.

"Your hips are sore, I take it?" he asked.

"Yes, very much so," her reply was a high pitched whisper, still flustered from the initial encounter.

The man in her office smiled again and stared at her soft, curvy body. She felt his eyes focus on her hips, as he started towards her. With each step, his eyes observed the lines of her body, admiring her tiny waist, pausing at her breasts and finally stopping at her bare shoulders and neck. She turned hot. Her body turned a deep shade of pink. She had taken her cardigan off before she started her stretches; now, she wore only a skimpy white tank top. She felt naked as his eyes peered at her bare skin. Her nipples hardened against her will, in her revealing tank top.

The man continued to walk around her until he landed behind her petite frame. She could feel his eyes assessing her rear.

Ethan spoke again, "your shoulders look sore too, you need a massage." With that, he raised his hand to her shoulders and began to rub. She could feel the heat from his body radiating across, she could feel his breath on her neck. He was close. She could smell him. And it felt good. An involuntary moan rose from her chest, she was aroused by his skin against hers. Isabella froze, her hand slamming over her mouth. Her body betrayed her. Her nipples ached to be exposed and her pussy felt hot and wet beneath her.

"Why is this happening to me?" she wondered frantically to herself. She made a futile attempt to calm her racing heart, taking a deep breath in and out.

Flustered again, she took a step back suddenly feeling his hard crotch brush against her shapely bum. Humiliated, she jumped and turned, facing him but avoiding eye contact. In a brisk movement, his long fingers grazed her perky nipples and sent chills down to her lusting pussy. It was an accident. Or was it purposeful?

When she had finally gathered the nerve to look up, she caught him staring at her breasts, admiring the outline of her hard nipples in a small white tank top.

Ethan wondered how easy it would be to slip the thin straps of her tank top off her shoulders and expose her ample cleavage to himself. He wondered how delicious it would feel to suck on those pink nipples, until she screamed in ecstasy.

Isabella could feel her nipples erect and protruding from her tiny white tank top. She knew the dark pink skin of her areolas must be visible, through the thin fabric of her shirt. She secretly enjoyed his lingering gaze, wanting him to rip down her top and lift her tight skirt. She wanted to be fucked. He smelled so fucking good.

Breaking the tension, the man stepped back and started walking towards the door. As he reached the door, her coworker offered advice, "you should get a massage, I think you would really enjoy it." He gave a crooked smile, laughed quietly to himself, and walked out the door.

Afterwards, Isabella sat alone. Her legs shook and began to spread involuntarily in her chair; she moaned again, wanting the heat between her legs to be handled. She was breathing heavily, her body wanted to escape her clothing. Her hands pulled her shirt down, freeing her breasts. She lifted her skirt and squeezed the inside of her thighs, now she could see the wetness seeping through her lacy panties. Until this moment, she had never considered masturbating at work. Now, she felt desperate to cum. Her right hand dove down between her legs, and she started rubbing hard and fast. Hard and faster. Her left hand began squeezing her breasts, rolling her little nipples between her fingers. Pinching, squeezing. She pulled at her nipples, producing an insatiable pain and pleasure. She held back her moans. Her head rolled back. She pressed her legs against her desk and braced her body for release. Her legs kicked her wood desk with intense force. Her body exploded in orgasm. She shook with each wave. She pressed two fingers down her throat and sucked to prevent the moanings from being heard by all her coworkers. Her body continued to convulse in pleasure, and she felt the warmth of her wet cum drip down to her puckered asshole, enhancing her pleasure.

Then, she heard a knock.

The harsh knocking brought Isabella back from her state, and she quickly pushed her swollen breasts down into her white tank top, closed her legs, and smoothed her skirt.

"Come in," she replied breathlessly.

"Is everything okay in here? I heard a crash." The voice came from Isabella's unsmiling coworker, Amy, as she walked into the room. Isabella started to bite her nails, the taste and smell of pussy fresh on her fingers.

Amy stood examining the room searching for a culprit. Instead, she found a flushed Isabella with breasts barely contained by her tank top, one strap hanging off her shoulder. Amy recognized the musky scent of a horny wet pussy in the air and raised an eyebrow.

"I.. I knocked over my pen holder." Isabella lied unconvincingly to the woman standing over her desk, a blond curl catching in her full lips as she spoke.

Amy was a tall and lean woman with shiny brown hair, porcelain skin, and long legs, she always wore heels, and a dress, her hands were always perfectly manicured. Amy had a dominating and serious presence in every room. Isabella was greatly intimidated by the knowing and disapproving look on Amy's elegant face.

With a "hmm," Amy turned on her heels and left the room.

Isabella sat shaking, watching Amy's hips swing as she walked away.

After closing the door to Isabella's office, Amy felt the wetness spread between her legs; her pussy also wanting for a release.