Retirement Home Massage Therapy Ch. 01

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All characters are over the age of 18 years old and all players are consenting adults.

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When the opportunity of full-time work at a retirement home came along I couldn't believe my luck and I jumped at the chance. Massage is a tough gig. It's kind of ironic that a process that makes a body feel so good is notoriously difficult to provide to people. I've been looking for steady work for years.

St. Ophelia Retirement Village is a high-end gated community on several shady acres, centered around the main building, a big old three-story Gothic structure built in the 1800s.

Today it is a picture of modern efficiency. The clientele are either housed in one of the little freestanding bungalows that surround the original building or in the Sisters of Mercy complex that is more like a luxury hotel than a dormitory.

Apparently it wasn't always like it is now. A bit of digging around online revealed and that St. Ophelia was considered by many to be less of a saint and more like a witch. The original convent had a notorious reputation. There were dozens of stories of young women and nuns being imprisoned, assaulted, and tortured - all led or condoned by, mad Ophelia. The grainy old photographs I found didn't prove much but those old nuns certainly looked intimidating and 'where there's smoke there's fire', right?

Finally there was a big investigation in 1962 and several people went to jail or were 'moved on' from lack of evidence. There must have been at least some truth to the rumors.

The basement of this old building is where my massage room is hidden. At first I thought it a bit dank. There are no windows, the walls are the original old stonework and the floor is covered in large black and white checkered tiles... like a dungeon. The big modern looking massage table with its black leather cushioned surface and chrome fittings looks out of place. After the stories I'd read a medieval rack would seem more appropriate.

The room has been renovated though, fitted it out beautifully, sparing no expense. Apart from the massage table sitting on a large thick Persian rug there was various purpose-built nooks and crannies that house the tools of my trade. The warm, low lighting reflects brilliantly off the large floor to ceiling mirror on one wall.

Most importantly it is situated away from the general population. It is quiet and discrete and has its own separate entrance, a simple staircase leading down from outside to the comfortable little waiting room.

So I was to be paid well, given free room and board, was doing work that I was good at and that I loved - but none of these are the best part. The best, most charming, and enticing part of this job will be my clientele.

From a very early age I've lusted for older women. It is an Oedipus complex that I happily acknowledge and embrace. The fact that about 90 percent of the 300 residents were women and are over sixty years of age was like a dream come true for me.

Of course the other ten were old men but that didn't phase me. Most men don't like massages from other men. I can be as professional as the next masseuse if it comes to that but their natural aversion suited my fine.

There was only one unfortunate aspect of the whole affair and it was a pretty big negative. The final stipulation of my new job was that a senior staff person who would be with me at all times. I would never be alone with any of these glorious sexy women.

Management was adamant on this point. This was how they wanted things to be and it was not negotiable. I was told that the village was run along very strict moral guidelines, stipulated by the church. It would be considered very inappropriate for a young man such as myself to be alone with any of the village residents.

What could I do? I had to accept it.

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On my first morning I walked into the massage room to find my chaperon was already there.

Sitting in the corner at a little school-desk, almost hidden behind a huge pile of yellow folders, was a middle-aged bookish sort of lady wearing old-fashioned horn-rimmed glasses. She looked up when I entered, closed the file she was working on, and stood to greet me.

She was plump, of small to medium height and wore a dowdy old nurses uniform buttoned up tight to her neck with small white buttons. The pale blue uniform dress included a white apron, black stockings, black patent leather shoes, and an old-fashioned 1950's style nurses cap perched on a wavy mop of peroxide blonde gray hair that had been 'permed' too many times.

Prominently displayed between the jutting shelf of her massive tits was a large silver crucifix and on her left breast a name badge read ADAMS in big black block capitals.

Nurse Adams' round face was hidden behind large brown, horn-rimmed glasses that magnified her myopic eyes like an owl.

"I have been informed," she said without any preamble, "that we will be working together in this room when you are providing your massage services."

These were the first words Nurse Adams ever said to me in her brittle British accent.

Walking around her little desk she stood in front of me and continued her 'welcome'.

"I am one who speaks her mind young man," she continued, rocking back and forth on her heels, her hands officiously clasped together behind her back.

Somebody who cared should have shown her how to apply makeup. She used too much red rouge on her cheekbones and the bright red lipstick she wore looked like a child had applied it with little or no consideration for where her lips started and her face began. It could have made her look like a clown but was closer to some sort of weird fetish whore.

"I must tell you I find this situation objectionable, nay, intolerable. I do not believe that your services are appropriate or required by our residents and I have said as much to The Reverend Mother."

"However my objections have fallen on deaf ears," she went on, getting more and more agitated. "The Reverend Mother thinks differently. I am obliged therefore to accommodate this ridiculous farce in my workday!"

She finished on a mad sort of up-note, her face red, her eyes crazy wide and her mouth set in a grim line.

"Not a very Christian attitude Nurse Adams," I said, as calmly as I could. I was a bit shaken. Not a promising start.

I became aware of the mammoth ass that was counterbalancing her massive teats. It was huge and protruded behind her. Even the dull nurses' uniform couldn't hide its huge size and the folds of fabric falling into the cleft of her bum gave an indication of its depth.

She was obviously a terrible bitch but her body was voluptuous.

"I have no doubt that this venture will fail and you shall be off these premises by the end of the week," she continued, ignoring my inspection, "and that, young man, will not be too soon!"

I felt like I'd been slapped. Reeling inside I had to ignore her attack and prepare for my first customer. Turning on the gentle synthesized 'whale sounds' that people expect in situations like this and, taking a deep breath to calm myself, opened the door to the waiting room.

All the chairs were empty... except for one.

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Emma

The voluptuous woman who walked into my room that day, so happy and excited, was in her mid to late 60s. Her face was tanned and crisscrossed with fine lines and her skin was sagging a bit as it will eventually. On the other hand her clear blue eyes, radiant smile, and generous wide mouth made her look glamorous.

Her hair was lustrous and long, falling down to her shoulders in an immaculately maintained old fashioned bouffant, like Mary Tyler Moore. Thick and wavy it was proudly silver-gray and looked terrific on her. Here was a woman who was stunning in her day and still beautiful now. She was dazzling.

Her outfit was fantastic as well. She was wearing a colorful 50's style dress, white with blood-red roses and dark blue plums printed on it. It flared out over her hips and shapely calves and was squeezed in tightly around her waist by a wide glossy red belt with a big red buckle.

She wore the short puffy sleeves off her shoulders and the plunging neckline showed off a captivatingly large cleavage. Anywhere else but in the cloistered environment of this village her clothes would seem outlandish, even silly, but here she was perfect.

"Good morning Mrs...?" I started forward with a little bow.

"Hello dear," she said, taking my hand. "I am Emily Watson, but please call me Emma. Everyone calls me Emma."

"And please call me Johnny," I said, and that was that. We were immediately on friendly terms. It's funny how some people can do that - make you feel like you've been friends forever. Nurse Adams could take lessons.

"There is a hanger for that lovely frock in the dressing room and we will get started as soon as you change," I said.

She beamed at the compliment about her outfit but from her little workstation in the corner we both heard Nurse Adams sigh audibly.

"Oh, hello nurse," said Emma dismissively, as if noticing her for the first time. "I didn't see you there."

As Emma pulled the screen closed on the change room she gave me a quick wink and rolled her eyes. Apparently Nurse Adams was a bitch to everyone.

Emma had accidentally left the screen open a little bit and I was catching glimpses of lacy undergarments and lots of flesh.

Soon she reappeared wearing the simple cotton wrap I provided.

'I hope this is okay Johnny?"

It was more than okay. Emma wore the wrap very low and it was not coping with her huge hanging breasts. Her spectacular cleavage almost spilled out over the top. There was an obvious line where the sun had burnt her over decades of summers, freckled and brown on one side and pearly white on the other. I realized I was staring and tore my eyes away.

"That's perfectly fine Mrs. Watson. You must be an old hand at this."

"Well not too old I hope," she said, flashing that beautiful smile.

"Oh no ma'am," I said mortified. "I meant that most first-timers are less confident..."

"I know sweetie," she said and stepping very close, grasped my arms to emphasize her point. "I'm only teasing you darling."

"I am definitely not a first-timer so relax and I will as well. As she spoke she rubbed my upper arm. It felt electric. "I'm sure this will be just wonderful."

"Thank you ma'am" I muttered in an undertone. "That means a lot to me. You're my first client and I really want to make a good impression."

Looking down into that beautiful face I was fighting the urge to kiss her.

"You dear big sweet boy. You already have," she muttered under her breath and began to undo the buttons of my loose white shirt exposing my chest and the muscles of my abdomen.

"Maybe we could take this off Johnny?" she asked as she pulled it off my shoulders and down my arms.

"That's better I think," she said looking my bare-chested body up and down shamelessly. "I'm sure anything you do will be just fine with me. The Reverend Mother speaks most highly of you."

"Yes Ma'am," I said. She had simultaneously put me at ease and given me a raging erection.

The glorious creature patted my bum as she sashayed past me and soon she was lying on her stomach on the massage table, up on her elbows with her big boobs threatening to pop out.

"Loosen the wrap please Emma," I requested. " I need to replace it with a smaller towel."

"Of course dear."

Without any hesitation she unwrapped herself and there in front of me were her lovely big saggy tits, hanging down, thick pinkish-brown nipples like little fingers and big brown areola.

"Like this dear?"

"...mmm ... yes, that's right," I mumbled staring at those magnificent mammaries. "Are you com... comfortable like that for a while Emma?"...up on your elbows?

I was desperately trying to act professional but Emma was testing my resolve. I knew my hard-on was tenting the front of my white yoga pants and she was getting a good eyeful but she didn't seem at all upset. In fact she gave me with that amazing smile again.

"Yes dear."

The wrap Emma had left draped over her back and down her legs had to go. Using a long-practiced routine I folded it like a small bedsheet. Fold once, twice, thrice folding carefully and slowly till it was a neat square perched on her bottom. Then, like a magician's assistant, I whisked it away and placed it in a cubicle behind me.

I gasped in shock. I had just exposed the most incredible big heart-shaped bubble butt I'd ever seen.

It reared up like a magnificent rounded mountain and plunging down like a cliff to the flat of her back. The massive white cheeks lay heavily over the top of her thick thighs that were dimpled with cellulite.

While I fiddled with the little strip of terry cloth that would replace the big piece of linen I'd just removed, I studied Emma's ass lecherously. I could not stop myself rubbing my cock through the soft cotton of my white yoga pants. In fact...

Nurse Adams was working on her files and I was out of Emma's direct line of sight so why not? I stuffed my left hand inside my baggy pants and, wrapping it around my big engorged cock, started jerking off.

Trying to drape the little bit of cloth over her bottom while I played with myself was almost impossible. Six inches wide it barely covered anything and kept slipping. I knew I was taking too long but, oh god it was such a lovely ass...

"What are you DOING?" came a harsh cry.

Jumping like a naughty schoolboy caught with his hand in the cookie jar I turned to see Nurse Adams was no longer working at her desk. She had quietly snuck up on me and was looking at me play with myself, outrage written all over her face.

I quickly used both hands and arranged the little towelette on the crest of Emma's wonderful bottom.

"STOP THAT IMMEDIATELY," she cried. She was apoplectic with anger, her lips pursed and shaking her head madly.

"Mrs. Watson,'" she declared loudly. "Are you aware what this PERVERT is doing?"

I looked at this awful woman imploringly. Please stop... please stop... Nurse Adams had caught me out and she was making a scene that would see me marched off the premises or maybe even arrested.

"What seems to be the problem nurse?" I asked as innocently as I could manage.

"This... this... degenerate is ASSAULTING you Mrs. Watson," she said, ignoring me. "He has removed your dignity... you are naked Mrs. Watson..." she hissed.

"Nurse Adams I would ask that you show more courtesy," said Emma without even turning around. "This young man is new to our little community and his processes may seem a little unusual to you and me..."

"But Mrs. WATSON..." she interrupted. "He was..."

".... HOWEVER..." Emma continued more sternly, "you will show him the respect due a guest in our house. I trust this young man and I feel I am in good hands."

I couldn't believe it. Nurse Adams couldn't believe it either. She glared angrily at me. She was right of course. I had stripped this old woman naked and I was enjoying every part of her delectable body.

"Very well Mrs. Watson," said the nurse officiously. "However I will continue to observe this situation and I will be reporting everything to The Reverend Mother. This is not a bordello!"

"Yes, yes, of course, of course," said Emma irritably.

The fat angry nurse crossed her arms under her bosom and gave me a wide-eyed look that said, 'I dare you to touch her'.

Purposely ignoring her wonderful bottom I poured warm oil over Mrs. Watson's back and began my massage, rubbing up her spine and then kneaded and stroked her shoulders. She immediately loved the attention, sighing softly.

I moved to the top of the table and continued to knead her shoulder blades and then around and into her armpits, combing my fingers through the soft hair I found there.

"Dear oh dear oh dear, Johnny," she sighed. "You're hands are lovely."

With Emma still up on her elbows I could rub down the dimpled loose skin of her upper arms, over her wrists to her delicate blue-veined hands, lingering on her fingers with their long nails and dark red nail polish.

Then return and repeat.

I ran my hands back up her wrists, up over her arms and then down over back as far as her full wide hips, creased with a sexy swell of fat that accentuated her shape. Except for the swell of her big breasts squeezing out and flattened under her body, Emma's body was like an inverted V. The perfect pear.

I couldn't resist her magnificent mountainous bum any longer so I shifted positions and, standing provocatively close to the nurse so she could see what I was doing, continued my ministrations on the bottom of Emma's spine

My oily fingers caressing her lower back solicited more happy sighs and when I pushed my hands slowly up the curve of her immense buttocks, Emma was getting loud.

"OOOOooo Johnny dearest boy, that is so nice."

I looked up at the ugly fat nurse and grinned. As she had promised Nurse Adams was observing and condemning my every move. My chaperon was hoping that her close proximity and stern ray-like, death stare would intimidate me into more professional behavior... but she could see it was not working.

"Lecherous monster," she whispered angrily in my ear.

I began using both hands on Emma's ass now, pushing my hands down her sides, under the little towel, and kneading the big muscles of her thighs.

"What exercise do you do Emma?" I croaked conversationally, humping my hard-on against the side of the table. "Your muscle tone is exceptional."

"Mmm... thank you dear," she moaned happily. "That's lovely to hear ...mmm... but I'm sure you are just being polite. ...mmm... You must see lots of beautiful women who are a lot younger than me but ...mmm... thank you dear boy," she said.

"Your body is exquisite Emma" I said, overcome. "You're so very beautiful."

"Oh you lovely man, that is the ...mmmm... that is the nicest thing to say..."

The stupid chunky nurse tottered backward as I pushed roughly past her.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" she demanded. "I AM OBSERVING YOU. YOU CANNOT PUSH ME. MRS WATSON..."

"Nurse, I am perfectly capable ...mmm... of assessing Johnny's appropriateness ...mmm... or otherwise," said Emma emphatically. "If you continue this awful ...mmm... tirade I will report you!"

Continuing to rub down Emma's legs I could feel Nurse Adams standing stiffly beside me, mumbling under her breath. Probably praying for my soul, I thought with a grin.

I traced the intricate pattern of cellulite on Emma's thick round thighs and pushed my thumbs deep into her shapely calves which soliciting more happy groans. Then down her shapely ankles gently kneading with the soles of her feet.

Emma was moaning quietly. "Sweet boy... sweet mummy's boy... mmm..." she sighed.

Bending her right leg at the knee I lifted it to my mouth and kissed the heal and the sole and then started sucking her big toe.

"Oh my darling boy, my darling boy," moaned Mrs. Watson.

First one foot and then the other, each toe received special treatment. The nurse was shaking her head in horror and disgust.

"Mmmmm... you are a very bad, bad boy," said Emma gasping happily.

These words and sounds were the signs I have learned to read over the years. Some, like Emma, were ready when they walked through the door. Others took much longer. I knew that this beautiful woman wanted more.

I couldn't resist any longer and focused on that lovely intersection where her shapely legs joined her gigantic ass. To my delight, Emma immediately rolled her ankles outward, a sure sign she was relaxed and enjoying this more intimate caress.

I began concentrating around the top of her thigh muscle inches from her pussy. First the left leg and then the right and then accidentally grazed my hands against her hairy cunt.