Tre's Massage Therapy Ch. 01

Hello. My name is Trent, though everyone calls me "Tre." I am a tall man with a little bit of a beer belly, though I am trying to address that. I own Therapy with Tre, a massage therapy clinic in the Midwest. We have a wide range of clients, but a select group of frequent flyers who keep us afloat. This is the story of how I began a legal-ish therapy clinic that makes sure our clients receive exactly what they require.

I have always loved making people feel good. Taking people's pain and tension, giving pleasure and relief in return. In high school, I was quickly the favorite among my friends because I could make them laugh and distract them from boring physics lessons. And they learned that my hands were quite good at making them relax from the stress of the school day. They would rotate who sat in front of me during study hall so that I could give shoulder rubs. After Emmi's volleyball games, she would quickly find me to bring peace to shaking muscles.

Even my guy friends sought me out, though I'll admit I was less thorough in my ministrations to them. I recall one sweet evening when Emmi came to my house after a game, sore as always. She was a libero, so hitting the hard gym floor dozens of times in a match was not an infrequent occurrence. She was my best friend. The sexual tension between us ebbed and flowed as we danced around the issue of our relationship.

It was senior year and we were graduating soon. We knew life was about to change and so I made sure to spend every spare moment of time with her that I could.

She came up to my bedroom, clothes cold from sweat cooled. With her auburn hair back in the tight ponytail she always wore, she was an entrancing sight walking up the stairs in front of me. I allowed myself to stare at her ass as she collapsed on my bed face down.

"Tre... back. Now." She demanded with a pointing motion. I smiled and sat next to her on the bed.

"I'd love to. The usual spots? Here and here?" I asked as my hands slid underneath her jersey and gently touched alongside her spine.

"Mhmm," she murmured into the mattress.

"May I?" As I pulled her shirt up a bit.

"Here. I'm wearing a sports bra." She shifted back onto her knees and pulled her shirt fully off, tossing it off the bed. I'll admit I was taken aback by her lack of modesty. She usually was careful not to open the proverbial door to intimacy too quickly. She knew that it wouldn't take much before the two of us got hot and heavy. But I guess that night she was just tired and in pain, wanting relief as quickly as she could get it.

I grabbed the lotion off the bedside table, warmed some up in my hands and started pressing and pulling on her skin. Soon the tight muscles loosened and the tension flowed out of her. I could see her melting into the comforter. As I continued my work, I asked her how she felt about the game. Emmi was hoping to play on a college team and was therefore highly competitive. I had often helped her practice. She talked through her excitements and frustrations, describing volleys to me as if I had not watched every single one. But I didn't mind. I just enjoyed being with her and seeing her grow so content and relaxed underneath my touch. While she continued talking, I swung a leg over her and straddled her so I could have better reach. I will say that I enjoyed sitting on her bottom. I tried not to think of it too much, otherwise she would quickly feel how much I was enjoying it.

"Hey, do you want me to do your upper back? Normally I'd just undo the clasp and whatnot, but..."

"Um, yeah. Sure. Just scoot back so I can take this off."

I scooched my butt back so I was astride her calves as she leaned back onto her knees again. Keeping her face pretty much in the covers, she took her sports bra off. I was astounded. She had never taken her clothes off in front of me. Even though I couldn't see anything from behind, I started to get hard. Even just seeing her naked back made me aroused. I adjusted my dick so she wouldn't feel it pressing into her ass and inched forward again. I put more lotion into my hands and began working her upper back and shoulders. Pressing and pulling, squeezing and releasing, digging my knuckles into her tight muscles. She would moan and pant in response to my movements, but after ten or so minutes, you could visibly see her body go from rocks to puddy. She had stopped talking a few minutes into this part of the massage.

"How's that feeling?"

"Incredible..." she moaned.

"Do you want me to keep working on this part of your body, or is there somewhere else you'd like more?"

She hesitated. Then quietly, she said, "Honestly, my legs are awful. Calves and thighs. My hip flexors are trash. And my pecs are still pretty tight too." She paused as I got off her butt and put my hands on the back of her thighs. "Is that too much to ask? I don't mean to take advantage of you. You're too nice to me."

"I love doing this shit."

"Oh, I know. I know what view I'm giving you," she said with a flirtatious tone in her voice. "But you've already been rubbing on me for like, half an hour. Your hands aren't tired?"

"Nope. I'm good!" I responded as I kept working on the back of her thighs. I had to press hard to release the knots that had formed in her muscles. I worked my way down until I stopped just above her ankles. She had ticklish feet.

"How are your legs feeling?"

"Good," she muttered. "But my hip flexors are still tight as hell."

"Okay... how do you want me to work on those?"

"What do you mean?" She asked.

"Like... should I just reach underneath you and rub through your shorts? Do you want to turn over? I can hand you your shirt if you want." My voice trembled a bit. I didn't know what I was hoping for at this point. I knew I wanted to see her naked. I wanted to touch her. I wanted to make her cum. But I was terrified to voice any of these thoughts.

"I can turn over."

And before I could even process what was happening, she started twisting her hips, forcing me to rise up on my knees to give her room. Her pert breasts came into view and I was... almost star struck. Her C cup breasts were perfect to me with their soft brown areola and erect nipples.

"Whoa!" I exclaimed as I covered my eyes. "Did you want your shirt?!"

And in a quiet, soft, and sweet voice, she said, "No. I trust you."

I felt her body shift underneath me, so I opened my eyes again. This perfect vision was wriggling out of her shorts, revealing a black cotton thong. My best friend, practically naked before me, laid her arms by her head and smiled at my obvious awestruck expression.

"Well?" She giggled. "Get to work!" She said this with a smile and an adorable motioning of her hand as a queen does to her subjects. I was a very willing servant for my lady. I moved my legs so that I was now straddling just one of hers. Being careful not to put too much weight on her, I pushed her other leg out to the side so that Emmi was spread eagle before me. My eyes traveled up and down her toned body.

Slowly I grabbed my quickly emptying bottle of lotion and started working my hands back up her thigh. This time, though, my touch was tender and smooth. I pressed up that most sensitive part of the body until I reached her hip flexor. My hands had a slight tremble, for I was tingling with anticipation that I was closer than ever to touching her most intimate of spaces. I pushed and pulled on her inner thigh, paying close attention to her reactions.

Soon I could hear her throat emitting sounds that sounded so erotic in my ear. It was like she was trying not to moan and finding herself on the very verge of failing. I let my hands press a little farther up each time until her underwear was only just covering her pussy lips. But I stopped there.

I couldn't find the courage to tear that scrap of fabric away and ravage Emmi until she couldn't cum anymore. I don't know if it was fear, uncertainty, or just because she hadn't asked for it. To this day, I hold a small sense of regret that I didn't go further. But my heart can at least have peace knowing that I respected her. Knowing that she wasn't an object to be used for my lusts - but rather a friend who I wanted to make happy.

So that's what I did. I kept massaging her hip and tendons until each side was relaxed. I thoroughly enjoyed the smallest glimpse I had of her pussy, which I could have sworn was wet. I moved off her legs and sat next to Emmi on the bed, where I gently rubbed her stomach, swooped up over her breasts to rub her pecs, and slowly trailed my hands down over her breasts. I couldn't help myself and so I tweaked her nipples just a bit. And if her sharp inhalations were to indicate anything, she seemed to enjoy those moments as well.

It seemed the wonderful moment was coming to a close. To wrap things up, I moved one last time so that I was at her feet, almost hanging off the bed. And I traced my hands up her legs, pausing at different points to massage one last time. I arrived at her underwear and stomach, where I felt a moment of boldness. So I kneaded her thighs and pushed my hands underneath her thong, drew my thumbs from the bottom of her pussy, over her clit, through the tufts of pubic hair, and withdrew my hands. I continued my retracing of her body, skimmed over her breasts, and ended up lying on top of her with my hands cradling her face. She looked at me, smiled, and said "Love you, Tre."

"Love you too, Emmi." And I gently kissed her. We hugged. And it was done. We separated, she got dressed, and she drove back home. I cried when she left, because I knew our chapter had drawn to an end. We remained friends for a while, talked to each other all the time during our first year at college. But we both ended up finding partners at school and gradually lost track of each other. I never even got an invitation to her wedding.

But our friendship was so sweet to me that I don't regret anything that happened. She gave me a gift that I have been looking to replicate ever since. She gave me her trust and it led to a beautiful moment that I try to recreate in my work.

The feeling when a woman gives you her trust - to make her feel good and valued but not possessed - this is my drug. I crave it like no other.

Time goes by and I find myself wondering what I am doing with my life. My attempt to become a financial advisor failed miserably. One day I was on the phone with another friend from high school. I was bemoaning my frustration with a career when she brought up the idea of me becoming a massage therapist.

"You were so good at that during high school! And I always felt safe with you giving back rubs or whatever. You weren't a creep trying to get in my pants and... I dunno. It just makes sense to me!"

I couldn't get her words out of my head the rest of the day, week, month... A quick search led me to discover a local massage center that had an apprenticeship program. I could get paid to learn and become a professional therapist. The advertisement said that the top apprentice would get a position on staff with a guaranteed salary. Holy shit. I had to do it.

And so I did. I studied anatomy, some stupid nonsense about energy flow, and professional standards for the occupation. For the first three months, I studied hard and built up the strength in my body so that I could do this work full time. The following six months, I started working on clients who received a discounted rate for being test dummies for us students. We were guaranteed two sessions a day, but were allowed to work more if people requested us. Within a couple of months, I was working on eight clients every day. Mostly women, a few men. Almost all of them were middle-aged or older. But my favorite hours of the week were spent working on a college athlete named Darlene. An old name, but a gorgeous and flirtatious young woman. She came twice a week for treatment on a tweaked back. She never wore underwear, pulled the privacy sheet away from her body... but that's a story for another time.

What I want to tell you last is a summary of my idea. You see, I had secured the position at the facility. I had a full-time job if I wanted, but I knew I could have more. I could do what I was doing now, helping the hurt and tired, but I could have my fun too.

I always stayed completely professional with Darlene, because I knew that if things went too far, I could go to prison. My thought was that if the intake system was clarified... if I could have paperwork signed by the clients indicating precisely what level of modesty and intimacy they preferred... if I could create a company in which I could have all the sexy fun I wanted while also helping the general public, well that sounded perfect to me.

I struck up a conversation with one of my fellow apprentices during our lunch break. I knew Krysten had a more sensual personality. The random blowjobs I had received from her after exams had indicated as such. She was a single mom starting a new career after her husband had left her. She was in her late thirties and attractive as hell. I tried beating around the bush, but finally just came out with my question.

"So Krysten, what do you think about forming a company with me where we can have normal clients but also some clients that are more fun for us to work on? We will make sure everything is legal, of course! I ain't trying to pimp myself out to old Mrs. Clarksdale."

She looked at me agog, but soon a smile slipped onto her face.

"Tre... are you trying to fuck these hot girls that keep coming back to you?!" Her accusatory statement was softened by her grin and a hand tracing out my dick.

"No! Just... god, hold on. Let me finish what I'm saying, then you can keep doing that..." I muttered as I shifted my growing cock to a more comfortable position. "I'm saying that there are probably clients who would love to have us massage them and go the extra mile. We'd just have to be careful in selecting them and make sure the paperwork was signed to... be clear that this is not sex work. It's just a more complete full body massage."

"Hmm..." she obviously wasn't put off by the idea. "You're saying it wouldn't be a happy ending place?"

"Not at all. Just a place where if we think the client is amenable and it is someone we would be interested in seeing more of, we can make arrangements. And if you decide to give someone a happy ending, well, who's going to stop you?"

"Okay, I'm interested, you pervert. But I want to see more and see how you intend to make sure we don't get busted by cops and show up on the 10 o'clock news."

So that was the start of Therapy with Tre. I got a buddy of mine to build us a website that had a questionnaire that could weed out clients who we would not be open to work with, but enabling those folks who wanted that extra special touch to find out about it in a confidential manner. Essentially, it was like this:

Let's say you wanted to book an appointment. You'd go online and fill out a form. You'd give your birthdate, your gender, your preference for a masseuse (whether male or female), your basic medical history (including weight), you'd list any physical ailments that made you desire a massage, and your preferred state of undress.

Now let's say you were a woman, anywhere from the ages of eighteen and forty, and not overly obese. When the menu for the preferred state of undress popped down, it would have five levels. #5 = fully clothed and #1 = fully naked. And if this young woman aged between eighteen and forty selected #1, then another menu would appear that would not appear for anyone else. This scale would be labelled "Intimacy preference." A #5 here was described as "I would like to have a typical massage while I am naked." And a #1 was described as "There is no part of my body that is off limits, including intimate areas. I want to experience mass relaxation and enjoyment."

If this young woman selected #1, then a note would appear saying, "Thank you so much for choosing our signature massage. Please note this massage will last for ninety minutes instead of the typical sixty. You will not be charged for this extra time - it is our gift to you. If at any time the massage becomes overwhelming or uncomfortable, please do not hesitate to voice your concern. Our trained and professional staff will immediately pause and check in with you so that you can fully enjoy your massage."

When I saw the finished product, I was thrilled. It was everything I could have dreamed of. I showed Krysten and she was delighted.

"I love this. There's no way we can be charged with prostitution or any bullshit like that. It says right here that we are not charging for this service. It's a typical massage that just has some mutually agreed upon extra shit."

"That's exactly the idea." I said. "So... are you in?"

She was silent, scrolled back through the site.

"How much do I get paid?"

After a brief discussion of rental space and equipment costs, we agreed on a rate and sealed the deal with some mind-blowing sex. Later on, she even suggested bringing on a couple of our therapist friends, though we agreed to wait until the business was booming. Within three months, we were up and running. We pulled an asshole move and brought almost half of our clients with us from our old clinic. It was enough to pay the bills and make sure we didn't starve. Two months later and we had full schedules with a short waiting list. It was incredible.

And the story for next time?

How Darlene was my first... special client.