Jacqueline Learns to RelaxbyJemma_Jane©
Jacqueline knocked tentatively on the office door, only to have it fall open under her knuckles. Just inside there was a reception desk and she read a message in block letters asking clients to make themselves at home in the lobby, the massage therapist would be out soon.
The waiting room was small and cozy. It looked like a room from the show Trading Spaces. A mix of Pier 1 and garage sale furniture had been painted and distressed and accessorized to resemble a South American parlor. The walls were all soothing shades of brown set off by a big mosaic mirror over the cushioned waiting bench. Jacqueline walked over slowly, pausing to examine herself as she approached. She was tired. Could you see it on her face? Job, kids and freelance writing were taking up at least 18 hours of each day. How long before a six hour sleep regimen started to take a physical toll? She was exhausted and on the cusp of feeling burned out. Also, her hair was suffering. After the wet run through the parking lot her brown wavy locks were taking a shape that could only be referred to as "1980's camp counselor". The pale white of her skin, at least, was clear and healthy. As usual, she had forgotten lip stick, so she settled for some gloss from a tube in her purse. Not that it mattered, soon she would be buried face first on a table. Ah, but it was going to feel so good.
Jacqueline generally had about one massage in a year, and boy, was this the ideal time to have jumped on a Groupon and scheduled an appointment. She had been waiting all day at work, almost glad at each shoulder twinge, knowing that ninety minutes of paradise would follow this evening.
The door opened and a man emerged. Ah, yes, she'd forgotten she'd selected a man masseuse (man-sseus?) for her appointment. She'd only had women before. But so often they rubbed lightly and Jacqueline hated to give too much instruction to her massage therapist...after all, it was their art. They should know how to make work out knots and such. A man's hands would feel good though, stronger and bigger. And hey, that couldn't be bad!
"You must be Jacqueline. I'm Patrick," He was a nice looking man. Tall, without being towering. A neat, trimmed beard in dark brown. Square, black glasses. He looked kind of sporty and nerdy at the same time. She thought he was about her age, definitely no more than forty. He wore casual clothes, a long sleeve white T and black sweat pants.
He was kind of hot. Is that weird, she wondered? She'd kind of assumed he'd be a doughy gay guy.
"Did you fill out your intake forms?" he asked. She said no, that she hadn't been able to print them from the website. He went behind the counter and came back with a clipboard and a couple of forms. "Fill these out, I'll be back in a few minutes."
He left her alone with the form. It seemed ridiculously in-depth. She wondered if all this was really necessary for a little squeezing from a stranger. They probably didn't even read it. For fun she began to fill in the fields will all sorts of silly stuff. After filling out "being awesome" under occupation, she came to a section that asked "What do you want out of this massage?" and "What areas do you want your masseuse to pay extra attention to?"
Patrick was moving around in the office and heard her muffled laugh. "Do you need anything?" he asked.
"Yeah, an additional piece of paper, I'm just getting started on the answers to these essay questions."
He grinned at her. "Maybe you should just tell me and we'll get started."
"Welllll, I guess I just want the best massage you can give. I work at a desk, I write on my laptop in extremely un-ergonomic situations. I sling small children. I'm just vaguely sore all over and need a good, hard rubbing."
Whoa, that sounded kind of dirty. But before she could rephrase, Patrick set her at ease, opening the client door and ushering her into a lit room at the end of the hall. No other therapists appeared to be working this late.
Inside the small massage room was the requisite skinny table and iPod docking station releasing some pan flute into the incense scented air. Patrick must have noticed her pause because he asked, "Is this music okay with you?"
"It's okay," she assured him. "I just keep thinking David Carradine is about to burst in and start kicking some ass."
Patrick quickly crossed to the device and found a new soundtrack. Something Brazillian, to match the décor. She liked it a lot better and thanked him.
"Go ahead and undress, I'll be right back," he told her. "There's a bench right there you can put your clothes on. Lie down on the table on your stomach."
Jacqueline complied. He hadn't said to undress to her panties, but she figured that was pretty standard. Knowing someone was going to be seeing her naked body, she had done some grooming in the shower this morning. Legs were shaved, moisturized. She wore some utilitarian, but nice, black panties that tied in little bows on the side. Her iron maiden of a bra was thankfully cast off and hidden beneath her cobalt blue jersey top on the bench.
Sliding between the crisp white sheets, she sighed as she found them heated, and arranged a pillow under her shins. A moment later Patrick entered the room and turned the lights low. He didn't talk much, not the way women masseuses tended to. It was kind of a relief. Whenever she talked to a person Jacqueline felt compelled to entertain them and this was a nice break from trying to quick and witty. Patrick didn't ask about her tattoos as he folded the sheet back to reveal her full back. He didn't even seem to pause to examine the scene of frolicking fairies across her side and lower back.
Instead he set his big hands at the base of her spine and began to work his way up the long muscles to each side. Circles, hard. Pausing, probing. It was almost invasive but in a good way. Soon she let out an involuntary moan as he pulled his thumbs along each skein of muscle, smoothing and stretching. "Oh my god, that's so good," she praised him.
He didn't reply, but gave her a little squeeze of thanks. Soon he moved down and was driving what felt like an elbow into the center of her butt cheek. So good, so good, she chanted in her head. He lifted her leg and tucked the sheet under it artfully. He rubbed her calf and her feet and finally her thigh. She told herself it was silly to tense up a little when he got near junction of her legs, just beneath the sheet barrier. She was just a body. He was probably picturing her without skin, just mapping her muscles and tendons in a much repeated routine. He was not going to touch her muffin.
However, that type of thing did happen, right? At least with men. She had seen parlors that looked suspect many times. Red Dragon Relaxation, read a sign next to her favorite dive restaurant. The hours were 8 pm to 2 am. That was a place where men went for hand jobs, obviously. But the practice seemed more prevalent than that. She wondered how a man would initiate that with a masseuse. Wouldn't he run the risk of offending a young, earnest lady masseuse with his pervy suggestions? Were there a lot of non-verbal signals, perhaps? Was it a code word that went on the form?
"ooooh!" she squealed a little when he tucked the sheet under her to reach her left leg. His fingers had definitely grazed...not her vagina, exactly, but near enough. He patted the sheet a little, too, and it felt almost like a caress. But a moment later he was back to his deep tissue ministration, running the ball of his thumb firmly up the front of her shin bone. It felt really good.
Her ladyparts were beginning to tingle. It felt very bad to feel so aware of this guy, who was just doing his job. She started fantasizing a little, pretending that Patrick really was brushing against her purposefully. That her palm on his chest as he rubbed her bicep was something like an invitation.
But it wasn't. Of course it wasn't. But she wiggled and took a deep breath. She had to be exhausted, getting all turned on like this. It was out of character. She was no sex kitten, just a mom who tried to feel desirable some of the time, but never at the expense of convenience. At this point in her life, no one hit on her. They were too busy pointing out the kid snot smeared across her coat sleeve. But that's what made this kind of fun, she was getting all worked up and poor professional Patrick had no idea. She couldn't remember a time when she could actually feel moisture pooling between her thighs like this. Her lips curled in a secret smile.
Patrick moved around to stand in front of her. Head still down in the donut face thing, Jacqueline listened as he moved about, probably pouring oil into his cupped hands. She wanted those hands on her again.
"Jacqueline..." he murmured.
"Jacqueline, do you want..." his long pause had her lifting her head and turning it right. Where he stood with a semi hard erection stretching his pants. She gasped. "Do you want to suck my cock right now?"
Her jaw fell open, she was sure of it. He couldn't really be asking...? And yet, through her shock came the revelation that, yes. She did want to suck his cock. Right now. Why not? There was security in the anonymity. Like a victimless crime.
"I...yes, okay," she said. It was so strange. Yet he made it feel like the right answer, humming his approval and dropping his strong fingers into the waistband of his pants and easing them down along with his boxers. His penis sprung free.
It was a really pretty penis. Just a perfect specimen. The color was fleshy and rosy and a little purple all at once. It was satisfyingly thick and nicely curved, like a pirate's simitar. In the dim light she saw that it glistened a little at the tip. She stared at it for a while. In the last ten years she'd only seen one other penis, so cataloging every attribute of this one seemed important. "Go on, Jacqueline," he urged, his voice a gravelly combination of encouragement and command.
She leaned forward, parting her lips a little. They settled on the plum head of his cock and she spread them slowly as she sunk down. Pausing with a few inches of him in her mouth, she retreated back up, letting his sensitive head rub against the ridged roof of her mouth. His hand tunneled through the hair at her nape. He liked it.
More of his shaft slid through her mouth, bumping the back of her throat. He smelled good. He tasted good. She consumed him with great appetite.
"Yes, Jacqueline, yes. You like that cock?"
She released him from her mouth to answer and he scolded her, "No, don't stop. Don't stop sucking my dick. Just moan for me. It's okay to be loud. No one is here."
She moaned. God, did she moan. She thought she might have an orgasm herself listening to him tell her what to do. He was in charge. It made her feel feminine, like his sexual supplicant. She had never experienced anything like it. Usually she was an equal partner in the bedroom. But here...she was the slave. And wasn't that strange, seeing how he was the one getting paid?
He said bad things, bad. She could hardly look him in the face, though she noticed he had shed his glasses at some point. He was licking his lips. He liked it. He was into her, into the way she followed his requests, squeezing and kissing his testicles before going back to tongue his cock lovingly.
"You're fucking hot. A hot little slut. Are you going to be good for Daddy?" he asked. She moaned her assent. "I thought so. Yes. Suck Daddy's cock."
She was raised up on her elbows now, applying herself to the blow job for all she was worth. He reached down to catch one of her nipples between his thumb and forefinger. He pinched, pulled. She felt a ripple the walls of her vagina ripple in response. "I like these big tits," he told her. She arched, letting his impossibly hard penis slap her in the face a little as she strained for more of his touch.
"Go ahead and flip over now," Patrick instructed. As she willingly turned over, he drew his shirt up over his head. She glimpsed his chest, strong, and stomach, flat. Now he was back at her mouth, guiding his penis in from another angle. As she sucked, he used both of his powerful hands to massage her breasts, which felt full to bursting.
"What am I going to do with you, bad girl?"
Unbelievably, Jacqueline felt shy. Like she was being presumptuous to request that he fuck her brains out the way she was praying he would. "Wha...what do you want to do?" she finally asked. When he didn't immediately reply she added, "What do you want to do to me, Daddy?"
He laughed softly, "That's right. Uhmm. You are so talented with that slutty mouth. Daddy would like to come all over your mouth... and maybe shoot some on these titties."
She couldn't believe he'd just said titties. She counted it among her least favorite words, yet when he said it, it was sexy. So was the threat of cum in the face. But no, that's not what she wanted. She wanted more.
"Fuck me, Daddy," she begged. She thought her face would catch on fire. She'd never said anything like that in her life. Then she froze, "Uh, do you have a condom?"
He considered her. "I do have one. Are you sure you want it all? If you just want to suck me off, I'll make sure you get the same treatment."
Tempting. But her vagina felt achingly empty. It was keening to be filled, pulsing with demand.
"Please," she whimpered, leaning forward to rub her unbound breast against his rod.
"I like the way you ask," he praised her. Reaching behind him, he withdrew a foil packet from a box on a shelf. "Keep sucking while I consider how I want to do this."
She did, sucking gratefully. Tracing the vein on the underside of his shaft, swirling the tip around her mouth. Pussy aching. He pulled his cock from her mouth with a soft popping sound and moved to her other side. "I tell you what," he offered, "I'll give you the best fuck you've ever had. But I still want to cum on your face at the end. Will you let me?"
"Yes!" she all but sobbed. "Anything you want!"
"That's what Daddy likes to hear." He pulled her closer and positioned her the way he liked, her lower half off the table. "On your stomach. Show me that ass." She did as he bid, standing on her tiptoes and displaying her buttocks for his pleasure. She felt a tug at the sides of her black panties and soon they were gone. He didn't touch her right away, just looked. And told her how incredibly fuckable she looked as he donned the condom.
There was a mirror on the wall in front of her. She watched him step behind her. A stranger. A master. He pressed his now naked body against her bare skin. She felt his dick in her ass crack, twitching. He reached around to palm her breasts. "Jacqueline," he whispered. "Are you ready for this? Can you take all this cock?"
She hoped she could. A moment later, she wasn't so sure. It was nudging it, deeper and hotter than any penetration she'd ever felt. It was a never ending slide until he bumped against her cervix.
"Yahhh," he breathed. "Tight, Jacqueline. You've been staying tight for Daddy."
He started to move and Jacqueline felt like she was going to pop out of her too small skin. She watched them in the mirror. She shivered as he pushed her face down on the table and began to pound into her. It was a little uncomfortable for a moment, but then the full spectrum of sensation hit her and ignited a chain of explosions deep within. A series of small orgasms began to shiver violently through her. He adjusted his rhythm, lifting her legs up backwards and urging them behind his thighs. He was him worked her body furiously, ramming in and out. He was focused, his lips almost sneering from within the dark beard. The sound of her wet pussy clinging to his cock as he thrust again and again seemed loud and crass and exciting all at once. He liked it. He told her so.
He was watching them in the mirror, too. He brought his index finger around and traced her lips. She opened them and allowed him to insert it in her mouth. She licked it, moaned, licked it again. Told him he had a huge cock. Thanked him for fucking her.
The big one was coming. It was building. He knew it and stopped just shy, ignoring her mewls to turn her around and balance her lower back against the massage table. He put one of her smooth calves over his shoulder and bent his knees to thrust into her fully. At the same time he dropped his face down and rubbed his coarse beard roughly over her sensitive breasts.
She exploded like Mentos in Coke. "Fuck, oh FUCK!" she cried, clinging to his shoulders and bowing up beneath his body. She literally went blind for a few long moments as white and pink flashes flowered before her. She was panting and she only dimly felt him pull out of her. She heard the wet sound of a condom coming off though. And she felt him let her slide down, off the table to sit bonelessly against a table leg. He rose in front of her, his gorgeous cock straining.
"I'm almost there," he told her. "Finish me, baby."
Well, a promise was a promise. She took him in her hands and moved swiftly to pleasure him. He bent his knees and she knew she was supposed to suck on him again. He cheeks felt tired, but she still leaned forward to take him. She squeezed his balls and stroked him hard while she sucked hard on the tip.
"Yeah, fuck yeah," he said. He pushed her down further on the floor. Rising over her, he took over the stroking. Jacqueline, not knowing exactly what to do, reached down to pinch her own nipples, shaping her breasts invitingly. She opened her mouth, inviting him to cum inside. All over her. Whatever he wanted.
He came is spurts, the first going neatly in her mouth. The second and third trailing from her chin to her tits. Grinding his balls and base of his dick between them, he used the tip to swirl the white deposits of cum into her skin.
"That's was good." He told her.
She blushed. "It was." Pausing awkwardly she added, "Thank you?"
"You are very welcome." Patrick was gracious as he gained his feet and located his sweat pants.
Jacqueline wondered if she should get dressed too. She decided to wait and instead wrapped herself in a tumbled sheet. "So, ah, does that happen often?"
"Do I fuck my clients? Not usually, no."
"Then why me?"
"You needed it. I could tell."