Girl-To-Girl MassagebySusan Anne©
The room is timber panelled and well appointed. Mirrors line two walls. A giant-sized spa bath occupies a corner and half one wall, a shower cubicle taking up the rest of the wall space. In the middle of the floor is a massage table covered by fluffy salmon coloured towels. Another towel is arranged like a serviette on top. The light level is low, supplied by discreet, indirect lamps.
Waiting nervously, sitting on the only chair, you hear a soft tap on the door, then in walks a tall brunette made even taller by high heels. She wears flimsy black bra and panties and nothing else. Her hair is clipped short and she has a nice smile. By the upright posture, silky way she walks, long legs and small breasts you can see she's a dancer in her other life: "Hi, I'm Brandy, pleased to meet you." She shakes your hand. She's careful to give you a special smile with eye contact before she leaves again.
But before you can evaluate your impressions of her there's another girl in the doorway. Like Brandy she's in her 20s or early 30s. Going by the name of Blaze she has a mane of flaming red hair that reaches down her back. Her green lingerie has a plunging neckline and you find your eyes drawn to her spectacular cleavage. Another handshake, another smile and she's gone. The next girl introduces herself as Sheena. Big, busty and bottle blonde, she wears a kind of leopard skin bikini and has a big smile that could swallow Africa. She speaks with an American accent as she assures us she loves men and women. The moment she's gone you're certain of your reaction; it won't be Sheena.
Jade slips into the room without knocking. Thai or perhaps Malaysian Chinese, she slim, petite and very pretty. You like her immediately, imagining what her slender body is like beneath the white satin teddy. Maybe Jade is the one?
Venus is a statuesque, dark chocolate goddess who speak with a Liverpudlian accent. She grins and jokes like you're old mates. You respond to her warmth and cheeky charm. You've never considered a black girl but why not?
When Venus has gone there's an hiatus. Is that all there are? And then you hear a belated tap at the door, and a girl in satin pyjamas comes in. She slender - boyish even - and of medium height. But it's her bobbed, fine blonde hair and fairly severe expression you react to. "Hello,"she says, "I'm Monique. What's your name?" She's the first of them to ask. Before she shakes hands she pops on her glasses to get a good look at you. As she leaves she remarks that she's actually a trained masseuse if that's important.
Left alone you pretend to consider all the options but your heart is set on the severe Monique.
When the manager returns to the room you tell her your choice, "Monique, please." The woman looks a little surprised, but nods, begins running the spa tub, takes your credit card, instructs you to take a shower, then disappears. You undress quickly then shower quickly but thoroughly, soaping all your crevices and holes. Afterwards you get straight into the filling spa tub and adjust the temperature. When the water reaches your breasts you turn off the tap.
Monique returns with a tray carrying mineral water and a wine and offers you the choice. She explains she was a bit brusque before as she's has never massaged a girl before and wasn't sure how to handle it. She didn't expect you to choose her, but now you have she's determined to make it a memorable experience. She smiles for the first time and you see her even white teeth. The first thing she removes are her heels. This she does by resting her feet on the edge of the tub to unbuckle them, giving you a close view. Then she unbuttons her pyjama jacket and slides it off her shoulders. Your gaze travels all over her quickly .... Shoulders, breasts, waist, belly, back up to her breasts. She's not quite as big as you but her orbs are exquisitely shaped, like the classic champagne glasses, and her pale nipples are like champagne corks. She pinches them to make them stand out even further.
Next she turns her back, unbuttons her pants, drops them and steps out of them. She wears nothing underneath. Her bottom is smooth, flawless, perfect. She slowly bends over to pick up her discarded pyjamas, affording you a rear view of her mound, split vertically and covered with blonde fuzz, rather like a peach. You gasp softly - it's the first time you've seen a naked girl, and a girl's sex, in decades. Concealed by the spa water you plunge your two favourite fingers into yourself for a quick moment of self-gratification.
Monique folds her pyjamas neatly on the chair then gestures for you to make room for her. She steps into the tub and settles. You talk about nothing for a while. Making no big deal about it, she places your hand on her breast. You enjoy the feeling of her prominent, stiff nipple against your palm. Emboldened, you even risk trailing your hand to the back of her smooth neck and stroking it softly.
Monique's knees sag open - an invitation you can't ignore or resist. Your hand starts on her lower thighs and slowly travels towards her crotch. There's bubble bath in the water but it's still clear enough to see your hand stroking her inner thighs. "No fingers inside, that's the house rule," she murmurs. Chastened, you brush your fingers over her soft pubic curls, making do.
There's colour in your cheeks and your breathing is slightly uneven; this is what you wanted.
A few minutes later Monique stands and reaches for a towel. She dries herself in front of you, inviting you to inspect her from all angles. When she's dry she suggests you might like to lie down on her massage table. Naturally the prospect of her hands on you is highly appealing, so you too dry off and climb on the table face down.
The first thing Monique does is put on some ambient music ... A kind of Ennio Morricone thing with birdsong added. Then she pours some warmed oil onto the middle of your back. You moan at the sensation of the warmed liquid pooling at the base of your spine. While her hands are still oil free she knots your hair out of the way, exposing your neck. This she bestows with a light kiss, murmuring huskily that you're going to completely melt inside before she's finished with you.
She begins by lightly rubbing the scented oil over your back, up to your shoulders, down to your buttocks ... Down your thighs and knees and calves ... When she reaches your feet, Monique gets serious: first she lifts your left foot and sucks your toes, one by one. The feeling of her warm, wet mouth vacuuming your toe is incredible. You've been semi-aroused - probably more than that - since you arrived; now your arousal reaches another level. You know you're going to make a big wet spot on the towel beneath your pussy.
But the sensation of toe-in-mouth is nothing compared to the feeling when Monique probes between your toes with her tongue. For the moment you firmly believe it's the single most sensual thing anyone has ever experienced. When she's finished using her clever mouth on both your feet she massages the soles with her thumbs. Pretty hard. It's almost painful but at the same time ticklish and wonderful. For some reason when she presses in certain places you feel a stab of pleasure reaching all the way to your crotch.
And then, still standing at the foot of the massage table, Monique leans over and rubs your ankles and calves. It's a pleasant sensation but your attention is still on the soles of your feet; she is leaning against you and you can feel the soft but wiry texture of her pubic hair against your sensitive soles. Briefly you imagine somehow manipulating your big toe between her legs and probing her blonde-haired cunt ... But it's only a passing fantasy and you soon return your thoughts to where her fingers are travelling - purposely up your thighs.
Your emotions are in conflict with your body's demands; one part of you wants to open your legs further so that Monique's travelling hands will have unfettered access to your waiting pussy, but your modest self wants your legs closed. Monique settles it: "Susan, open your legs for me." Naturally you part your thighs.
Monique's hands stroke and massage and caress your right leg from knee to buttock, inch by inch, unhurriedly but inevitably moving towards the nerve centre of your sexual being. Apparently casually, she lets her fingertips brush the damp curls of dark hair at the apex of your thighs. You squirm slightly, wishing she would touch you there. But instead she moves to your left foot and starts again.
When Monique leaves your legs and transfers her attentions to your back you feel disappointed. But soon you're swept away on a magic carpet ride as she presses your shiatsu points, liberating endorphins in your bloodstream. You close your eyes, day-dreaming ... When you open them you can see her in the mirror. It's lovely watching her bending over you. You can see her pretty bottom, the glimpse of blonde fuzz catching the light ... You close your eyes again and dream on ... Fifteen minutes go by as Monique works at easing muscles you didn't even know were tight. It feels marvellous, beyond your powers of description.
"Sweetie, roll over for me?" Monique whispers in your ear. To your vague embarrassment you realise you've been dribbling on the towel. You wipe your mouth and roll over, sighing contentedly. Instinctively your place your legs together, but she takes your ankles and gently eases them apart. You realise immediately that while you're now completely exposed to Monique's gaze you can watch her as openly as you want. As she turns away and pours more warm oil into her palm you let your eyes wander down her shapely back to that perfect bottom. When she bends over the preparation table you get another tantalising glimpse of her peach-like pussy.
Then she crosses to the table again and moves behind you. You look up and backwards. Her breasts loom over you as she leans forward and cups your breasts with her oiled hands. Slowly, gently, sensuously, she massages your breasts and nipples, drawing her fingers up to your shoulders and throat then making circles down your flanks to your belly before returning to your breasts. You examine the unusual underneath view of her breasts. Her nipples are silhouetted against the light. What would it be like to take one in your mouth...?
Monique leaves your breasts and begins stroking your neck and cheeks, gently pulling your head back, stretching your spine. She massages your temples while she's about it. It feels so good you forget about looking at her breasts and close your eyes again, concentrating on her clever fingers. Soon you're floating again, feeling as relaxed as you've ever been. What would Monique think if you fell asleep? Then the fingers stop working. You keep your eyes closed and just listen. You can hear a wet slapping noise; what is she doing?
Risking opening one eye you can see that she's applying oil to her tummy and chest. It doesn't make sense; why would she be doing that? And then it becomes clear as she climbs onto the massage table and lowers her body onto yours. Moving back and forth, she rubs her breasts over your tummy and breasts. You can feel her oiled nipples, hard little buds, pressing into your skin, brushing against your own. At the same time she lowers her pelvis over your thigh and rubs against you, gently forcing your legs further apart. Her pubic hair feels like soft steel wool. You become aware of the occasional fleeting pressure of her slick upper thigh pressing against your crotch.
She lowers her head and brushes her soft, fine blonde hair across your face as she moves back and forth rhythmically. You can smell her strawberry-scented shampoo. And you can feel her warm breath passing over you like a zephyr of faint tobacco-and-mint-smelling breeze. Her breathing sounds loud in your ears. You open your eyes, watching her. She has her eyes closed, and there's a dreamy expression on her face. Is she enjoying it as much as you? Or day-dreaming about someone else? Then she opens her eyes, catches you looking and smiles a lover's smile. In that instant you forget that this is a commercial transaction. Now it's just you and Monique, your girl lover.
Monique pauses her back and forwards rubbing long enough to plant a light kiss on your lips. You want more and lift your face to hers imploringly. She gives in and kisses you a second time, slowly. Her mouth is soft and warm and moist and yielding. Suddenly a wild idea occurs to you - put your tongue into her mouth! But she moves her pretty head before you can try it. She slides her oiled body down yours until her face is level with your crotch. God, is she going to kiss you there? But instead she uses her thumbs to part the lips of your pussy, and then blows gently on your moist, pink, inner flesh, making your dark kiss curls quiver and tremble. You'd swear that your clit, still safe in its hood, stirs like an awakening penis ...
Now Monique hops off the massage table, landing like a gymnast on one side.
"Are you ready?" she asks. You wonder what she means but nod anyway. Her body gleams from the oil and she looks like a bronze statue. Automatically you reach to stroke her skin - then draw back, embarrassed, when you realise what you're doing. "It's okay," she smiles reassuringly, "I'd like you to touch me.
She begins running her fingers along the inside of your legs, from ankle to upper thigh. You surprise yourself by opening your legs a little further, willing her trailing fingertips to reach your pussy which is craving attention now. Can she smell the scent of your arousal? You imagine it's strong enough to permeate the whole room.
Each stroke of her hands brings her fingers closer to your crotch. Your entire being is centred between your legs. How you want her to touch you there the way you touch yourself. You arch your back slightly, pushing your hips upwards, opening yourself to her. "Take me, take my cunt," is what you're thinking.
Monique knows what you're thinking. She allows her clever fingers to trail directly through your pubic bush, up to your belly button, then back again, down over your mound and your swollen lips. "Feel nice?" She asks. All you can do is nod, hoping for more. But she turns away from you and steps away from the table. More teasing?
The last of the warmed oil is tipped into Monique's palm. Carefully cupping it to prevent spills she turns back to the table and drizzles it directly on your crotch. As the viscous stuff runs through your curls and between the folds of your pussy, over your asshole and down to the towel beneath you, the feeling is so delicious you almost cry out. Actually it feels as though you've lost bladder control and peed yourself. Her slick hand cups your mons and massages it gently. Little stabs of pleasure radiate from your pelvis like rays from the sun.
You decide to take her up on her offer, raise a hand and stroke her back. She feels so smooth and wonderful you want to caress her like that forever. Meanwhile she is using both hands to massage and stroke your pussy mound and lips. Without any warning she slides her middle finger between your lips, just to the first joint. You moan with the pleasure of it, wanting more. But the finger is withdrawn again. "Yes ...," you murmur. Monique lifts her eyes from your crotch and smiles at you: "Nice?"
This time she inserts two fingers inside you, burying them as far as she can in your hot, syrupy, hungry cunt. How did she know you like it like that? You close your eyes and open your mouth as those knowing fingers explore your most private place. Your hand, meanwhile, has moved with a mind of its own, down Monique's perfect bottom to her smooth thighs. You know it's wrong - you're heterosexual, after all - but you want to touch her pussy more than anything. Gently running your hand between her buttocks you feather your fingers up and down her upper, inner thigh. Is it your imagination or can you feel wisps of her honey-blonde bush brushing your hand?
Throwing caution to the wind, you explore the warm, humid, secret crevice between her legs with your fingertips, skin on skin ...
Obligingly, Monique moves her feet apart further, allowing you better access. You immediately take advantage, tracing your fingertips from her fur-covered mound, over the pubic bone, over the contours of her cunt lips, to her puckered asshole and back again. Just a light, feathering touch ... You become aware the perfect skin of her beautiful bottom has gone all goose-bumpy. She likes what you're doing! Growing brave you lift your hand to her breasts and touch her hard nipples. They're like pebbles. She uses her free hand to hold yours against her boobs, rubbing it to and fro. And all the while her busy hand is plumbing deep into your puss then emerging to caress and lubricate your straining clit before plunging back inside again. Your pulse has doubled in the last five minutes. Your breath is becoming ragged. You don't even know it but you've started making little moans and cries and whimpers.
Monique bends over you, brushing your torso with her breasts, while continuing to finger your sweet cunt - a task which is growing more difficult as your hips begin bucking and heaving. You plant your feet as wide as the table allows and abandon yourself to your pleasure, dimly aware you're behaving like a lewd slut, but right now you don't care; you just want it go on and on until you're totally exhausted, completely spent. And then a buzzer sounds: Monique looks genuinely annoyed. "I'm afraid our time's up, sweetie." She bends over your face and kisses you again on your open, panting mouth....