Pt. 01 - I Learn About Women, Sex & Love

Against the Odds, an Introvert Becomes a Ladies Man

My first "adults only" fiction sex story.

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My name is Rick Valencia and I live in a suburb in the foothills to the east of Sacramento, California.

For you pro football history buffs, I live in the city where one of the Northern California NFL teams held summer camp some years ago.

Hint: it was not the Raiders.

I'm just 28, stand at 6'2" tall, weigh about 180 and am in pretty good shape.

My hair is short and neat; no gray, no receding hairline.

Everyday I wash my hair and use man soap on my body. And deodorant.

I trim by pubic hair. I don't shave it but I do trim it somewhat.

If that is TMI (too much information), stop reading this and go read something else.

My eyesight is a little better than 20/20 and I am in very good health.

The only glasses I wear are sunglasses. I prefer Tom Cruise navigator shades.

I rotate my exercise regime between swimming, weights, cardio and stretching.

Twice a week I play on in an indoor basketball league and in summers, we play softball.

I am pretty good at golf, playing with an 8 handicap. Not great but I don't get embarrassed on the course.

I do not smoke or do drugs. I do enjoy beer and wine, and once in a while, I have a margarita.

For hobbies, I follow sports, college and pro, plus I am a card-carrying member of the NRA because I have always liked shooting rifles and guns.

(For the record, I did not hunt animals except in very extreme cases which you will read about. My shooting is almost always done at the range or safely in the mountains at tin cans).

So you can see, I am active, and I have some hobbies too.

One is taking pictures. Ever since high school I had a camera and used it as a shield to avoid being put into awkward situations like having to talk to pretty girls who would laugh at me once I got out of earshot. I took a lot of pictures for the yearbook. Girls were nice to me if they wanted to be in what we called The Annual.

Later, I decided that I did not want to be a "guy with a camera" (GWC) because I wasn't trying to get women naked and take their picture.

Most of my hobby was taking pictures of places, things and animals. I was okay with people shots, but because I didn't practice with people, well, I had room to improve there.

Marriage was not in my plans as I worked my way through college, earning a degree in Accounting.

Pretty boring stuff to most people, but it gave me a good foundation to do a lot of things in my post college years.

#####

Right after graduating from college I passed the CPA exam, but I never shared or bragged about that honor with anyone. But I kept the credential active.

After a couple of weeks of post-graduation vacation, I started working full time in Project Accounting at Cal Trans, the state department of transportation and I was not, then or now, interested in moving up or making more money. I wanted a stable, steady job that did not require too much of me because I was saving my energy and focus on other things. COLA (cost of living adjustments) were fine for me.

I also did not get too close to my coworkers. Yes, I was friendly, but I avoided all the petty politics and office stuff and especially I avoided the ladies I worked with. It didn't matter who they were, married, single, divorced, engaged; 21 or 61, they all "liked" me and I am sure most if not all of them had fantasies of me screwing them every which way but Sunday.

Even if I was the same age as their sons, or grandsons.

You are reading this thinking that I am God's gift to women. I am not. I just want to do my job and collect a paycheck at Caltrans. And when I had the opportunity to start working from home, I took it. Now I don't have to fend women off or deal with bosses that want to promote me.

Now I realize I was never going to get rich working as a government employee. I just wanted a stable, steady income and a good credit score so I could start building a life of fun and adventure. Yes, the CPA who has fun. Bet you never met one, until today.

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Working from home also allowed me to take courses online and as I write this story, I am wrapping up my law degree.

You might think I am a lifelong student, a perpetual student, but I was trying to be practical. If I can do my own business contracts and my own taxes, including corporate, I could save myself a lot of money. And maybe make money too.

Before my dad retired from teaching at Sacramento State, we bought a 12 unit building zoned for light industrial companies. We spent a lot of money on it but were able to fully lease the building at a good rate. I reserved one unit for my own businesses.

With the place leased out at capacity, my dad and I were able to pay the mortgage, taxes and insurance plus take out a nice paycheck each month.

I saved my money and then bought about 25 acres further up the slope of the Western Sierras. From where I was living it was about an hour drive up I-80 and then take a county road north about 7 miles. There was plenty of flat land and there were two springs which I had the water rights to. I bought a used double wide, had it hauled up there and I fixed it up so I would have a place to sleep and had a contractor dig a septic tank because there were no sewage lines that far out. It was so quiet out there it was unnerving at first but once I got used to the silence, I found it hard to sleep in my own bed at home.

Because I am a rule follower, I checked with all the government agencies before I did anything with the two springs. My plan was to build a couple of creeks, maybe have a pond for fishing. My ultimate plan was to build a nice house with a deck on both floors so I could take in the view of the forest from any room.

My folks are now retired; they sold their house in Sacramento and bought something very nice near Carson City, Nevada. I see them about once a month and me getting married and giving them a grandchild (or two) is on the top of my mother's list of things to talk to me about when we met or when we talk on the phone. She drives me nuts with that talk.

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You may be thinking, is this guy gay or asexual?

No, I am not. But let's be honest, my personality type is on the shy side. How many girls were there in my college accounting classes? None that I can recall.

Friends try to set me up and well, it just didn't work out.

I tried the internet dating stuff too, but it just seemed so superficial that I eventually gave up.

Now, just so we're being honest, some of these internet dates turned into fucking sessions, so it was worth the fees.

And it wasn't that the ladies weren't nice, they all were at first. But many had been married before, many had small kids; the anger at their exes was more than I could take.

So, I guess I got lucky and banged a few and it was fun. You know, the blind squirrel bumping into acorns.

The lady that cuts my hair, Rylee (pronounced "Rye Lee") was always nice and friendly to me. She had shared with me that she had a boyfriend, but she also said that she wasn't going to marry him or have kids with him. She referred to him as "Just the guy I sleep with and split the rent with."

Rylee was an attractive lady, maybe 25, standing about 5'7' or so, with curves in all the right places.

Shoulder length brown hair, a nice smile, articulate, always happy to see me and she greeted me with a hug, crushing those ample breasts of hers into my chest without hesitation.

We just hit it off from my first appointment and she is probably the only female that I could confide in.

She also opened up to me, because after a few months, out of earshot of her fellow stylists, she was starting to rag on her boyfriend.

I didn't press her on it; I didn't even ask any questions, she just let loose, quietly. But there was a lot of anger there.

I learned that her boyfriend was working long hours, sometimes double shifts, yet didn't seem to have any more money.

He also got a lot of text messages when he wasn't working, and when Rylee asked, he told her it was "Some work stuff."

She said she trusted him but that she was starting to have reservations about being with him for very much longer.

Rylee said that he had taken to falling asleep on the couch and she couldn't remember the last time they had sex.

It didn't take Judge Judy to figure out that he had something going on the side, but it wasn't my place to point out the obvious.

I mean, if she was my girl, I'd have her bed all the time, banging the shit out of her. In every hole she had.

So, on this visit, as she was washing my hair before cutting it, I asked her how her business was going.

She looked around to see who was in earshot and shared with me "Cutting hair is fine but we need more services in this place."

"Like what?" I asked her.

"Nails, tanning, shoe repair, massage."

That got me thinking.

Giving massages to women who were directly introduced to me would be a good way to get acquainted.

And maybe get laid.

"How many of your clients do you think would enjoy a massage?"

Rylee laughed, "All of them, but not before I got one first."

######

It didn't take me long to find out what it took to become a masseuse: some time, some learning and some money.

The day after getting my hair cut, I was on the phone calling the various occupational schools trying to learn as much as possible about the hours, money, time needed and all that.

By the end of the week I had picked out a school and met with the owner. A nice lady, Janice ("call me Jan") a very pretty Japanese lady, (or is it Japanese - American?) maybe just a few years older than me, who had a good head for business and sized me up as someone who could do the work necessary and not complain about it.

"These kids today," she told me, "they don't want to work for anything."

Jan was a slender lady, maybe 5'8", obviously well educated, and well spoken; very attractive; a very pretty face; with shoulder length silky black hair. If she wore makeup I couldn't tell.

But her teeth were perfect, her smile was genuine, she had a nice figure that she kept in shape and I knew in less than two seconds that given the opportunity, I would fuck her senseless.

Not the first time. The first time I figured I would should my wad in about ten strokes, but the second time, on the rebound, I would last forever. That second time she'd be begging me to stop, to pull out, because she couldn't take the pounding anymore.

Okay, that was my Walter Mitty dream. She was way out of my league. Plus, she was my teacher!

I guessed that Jan wouldn't mind being paid in cash, in advance, in exchange for getting me on the "fast track" to getting my certificate. That payment being made, and not reported to the IRS I am sure, Jan put me through my paces and in less than a month I was well on my way to passing my final exam.

One of the first things Jan did which I thought was kind of odd was she traced my two hands on a piece of paper. This is something you used to do in grade school.

When I asked her about it, she replied that she did this on all of her students because she wanted to make sure she didn't under buy or over buy what she called very expensive massage lotion. Being an accountant, I could see the value in keeping a lid on expenses. Then she explained about all the costs of running her school: toilet paper, laundry expenses, maid services, etc. and I understood why she was asking. But it still sounded like BS to me.

I spent a lot of one on one time with Jan. She did the lecture part as I sat at a desk; she gave me plenty of independent study assignments and a ton of reading about the human body. So much so that I thought my eyes were going to burn out. Jan was a tough task master but she was also encouraging and a good coach.

At my first meeting with her, she was professional and polite, and dressed appropriately. Business attire, heels, no wedding ring.

But from my first class with her, maybe because it was after normal business hours, she dressed down.

Meaning, no dresses, no pearls, no high heels.

Jan dressed like she was going out to the lake: shorts, halter tops; tight tee shirts; summery blouses with scoop necks.

Given that she was busty, with a nice ass to boot, it was hard not to look at her as she was either standing up at the white board, writing, or sitting next to me on the computer as the lesson was displayed on the screen, or she was across the table from me with some very serious eye contact.

She wasn't shy about showing her affection to me. It wasn't the money. Although that didn't hurt.

I could see that she was somewhat lonely, and enjoyed having an adult to speak with after long days spent with kids just out of high school who didn't take much of anything seriously except for the next party or getting blasted that night.

So, in a non-threatening way, starting at that very first lecture, long before I got into the "lab" Jan would sit next to me, thigh to thigh. Or she'd stand behind me, with her hands on my shoulders, sometimes giving me a neck or shoulder massage.

To be honest, I liked the attention and she was damn good with her touch too.

Jan didn't appear to mind when she caught me staring down her scoop necked blouse or when my eyes followed her loose breasts in those light-colored halter tops that clearly displayed her large brown nipples that stood at attention due to the cool air conditioning.

When she moved, her breasts swayed slightly, and my hungry eyes feasted on her pleasure mounds.

She got me so fucking horny that I went home after being with her in class to go beat off with a vengeance in the shower, my mind working overtime as I pounded her wet juicy hot cunt.

I never attended any lecture classes with anyone else, it was always just the two of us and she made sure the doors were locked and the lights were off when I was in there in school.

The front of the building was reception and classrooms; the back end had rooms with massage tables where the students did their real-world work.

My lab classes were something else.

#####

I work at 9/80 schedule at my full-time job at CalTrans so I have every other Friday off.

Jan didn't hold normal classes on Fridays.

Those days were the days I went into her massage school for my lab learning.

After two weeks of lecture, I was going to get my hands on some flesh. Female flesh, I hoped.

Starting at 9am, and continuing until 9pm, I was learning how to do massages on real clients.

Jan had me doing ninety-minute sessions in what become my work uniform.

Shorts, tee shirt, socks and sneakers. Jan insisted I wear a jock strap, something I hadn't owned or used since my college gym classes.

She laughed when I pushed back, telling me "That jock strap will keep your little brother tied down nicely."

Meaning, my erections would be contained when I was massaging women.

My lab rats, so to speak, were all female (Thank God) and all of them were very attractive.

I was never sure how they met Jan, but they seemed to be friends.

In the course of massaging these ladies, I learned that each was either a college student, unemployed, divorced or widowed.

Jan was sly and had each lady get just one massage with me; she didn't want me getting attached to any one girl.

Which I could have easily done because some of these ladies were simply stunning.

But, I never saw any of these ladies again after they walked out the door.

But I did learn that some of them shared information about me with their female friends, and there was no shortage of ladies wanted to be rubbed by me. I was being booked for massages for the next month or so as I was just doing my first day of lab class.

My coach, the ever-present Jan, hovering around the room, was with me for the entire session to supervise, to teach and to make certain that I didn't cross any ethical boundaries.

I would set up the room, drape the massage table, lower the lights, choose the music and maybe light a candle or two.

I also had to make sure the dressing room was clean and that the lady left her clothes and valuables (jewelry, purse, clothes, keys) in a locked changing room.

The client would come in before their appointment, fill out an intake form, pay a fee, and then Jan would lead them to a changing room where they would undress.

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As you might guess, the level of nudity for each massage was different, according to their comfort level.

A few ladies got on the massage table, and pulled the top sheet over them and I very quickly found out that they had bra and panties on when I first saw the bra strap on their shoulders.

The next level of nudity was more common: the ladies would be under the sheet with only panties on, usually a thong. This did make the massage easier for me, not having to screw with bras and panties while trying to give a decent massage.

By far the biggest group was the "get naked under the sheets" and they weren't shy about showing off their bodies to me.

Regardless of how they were dressed or undressed under the sheets, Jan was a stickler for making sure that proper draping etiquette was in place.

This was one of the reasons she was in the room with me; she knew that with a good-looking guy massaging a nice-looking woman who was naked, or damn near naked, it was only a few quick steps, a few select touches, a kiss or two, a shared smile, on to some sort of sexual act taking place.

The work was tiring. I had no idea how hard it was to be on your feet all day, bending over, moving your own body and pushing and pulling on a naked female.

Remember, I am a desk jockey. I ride a computer all week long.

That first Friday was a killer; Jan actually had me on the massage table with my tee shirt off as she massaged my neck, shoulders and back at our lunch break after I'd done three 90- minute sessions back to back.

While she rubbed and I winced, she gave me some feedback and then she demonstrated on me how I could improve for the afternoon sessions.

I really wanted her to go lower on my back and massage my butt, but I didn't say anything.

When she did finish with my back, Jan spanked my butt once and said "I'll get to that a little later."

How did she know I wanted her hands on my ass?

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The rest of the afternoon went well but by 5pm I was running out of gas, I was low on energy, and Jan could see it in me so she left me alone with a client while she drove down the street to the local Jamba Juice for a protein shake to get my mojo back.

The lady I was massaging at that moment was a hot 30-something MILF, divorced with two kids and a body to die for. Her name was Alex.

The minute Alex heard Jan lock the front door and head to Jamba Juice, she pulled off the top sheet and simply said to me "Rub my ass honey."

I'd seen a few asses in my day, but this was world class and well, available. And she was interested in me!

In the flash of an eye I saw me naked on the massage table, fucking the living daylights out of this horny gorgeous MILF and well, my cock went from semi to hard in that same time frame.

But I knew, somehow, that this was a test. This must have been something that Jan had set up with Alex to test my ethics.

I took a step back, my mind cursing myself at losing the opportunity for some prime pussy, and then I bent down, picked up the sheet from the carpet and replied "That isn't allowed Alex" and I stepped over to the linen cabinet, grabbed a clean top sheet and returned to the table, covering Alex and removing the temptation for sex.

She pouted for a few minutes while I was rubbing her feet and when Jan returned, nothing was said.

But when Alex left about an hour later, she kissed me on the cheek and said, "Thank you for being a gentleman."