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Happy Ending

Posted by: Author: Age: 26 Posted on: 0 comments
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This is a fantasy.

I'm the author of the true stories below:


Okay, so 'happy ending' massage parlors aren't legal in most places in the US, but they exist nonetheless. For men. It's one of my deepest fantasies to have one, as I always get turned on by regular massages-to the point that I'm uncomfortable going anymore. I was afraid the girl could tell I was aroused, and I didn't want her to think that I don't respect her professionalism. So for now anyway, I fantasize about my first sexual massage, and my fantasy goes like this:

From the outside, it looks like a regular day spa. I double check the address to make sure I have the right place. I got this referral through a friend-she promised I would not be disappointed. As instructed, I go inside, up to the front desk, and tell the girl I'm here to see Amy. She takes me back a hallway past many rooms into the corner room. She motions to the clothing rack and set of towels and gives me a little smile. I must fit in here: she assumes I already know the process.

Once alone, I scan my surroundings. I don't know what I was expecting, but the room is like any other massage room at the fancy spas I used to accompany my mother to. Warm earth tones on the wall, relaxing music playing faintly. I take my time undressing, allowing my hand to travel down my torso, then back up to my breasts. I'm already starting to get excited. My hand travels to my pussy as I remember getting ready earlier this morning-a long hot shower had been just the ticket. I'd shaved everything except for a small, well trimmed patch right in the front, leaving my lips feeling very exposed and extra sensitive. Heat is radiating from my pussy, and I'm shocked I'm not more nervous.

I don't have to wait for Amy very long, and wow, my friend's description does not disappoint. She's gorgeous. Dark blond hair falls to the shoulders of her tight-fitted polo that complements her slender and fit physique. She seems rugged but still breathtakingly feminine. She greets me with huge unwavering green eyes and a confident smile. After introductions she has me lay on her table face-down, asking if I have any areas that need special attention. I freeze. Is this code? Is there something I should say here? All I can muster is that my left shoulder has an old volleyball injury.

She starts in and I can feel my body relax immediately. The part of me that is so taken with Amy wants to make small talk, but I know the protocol and remain silent. As she starts on my shoulders, I think about her hands. So firm and strong, but soft to the touch. As she begins to work her way down my back, I visualize her touch as one of a lover. She knows me so well because she's touched me so many times, not because she's a trained professional. By the time she's at the small of my back, I'm already wet. I'm relieved that, for once, I don't have to be embarrassed by this.

As she makes her way under the towel I stifle a moan. It's been months since I've felt someone else's hands on my ass. I get lost in the feeling as she works the muscles there, and then works her way outward, spending time on each side then down to the tops of my thighs. This time I can't help it-a deep moan escapes me. Another gush of wetness, and I can feel my clit swelling. She works the outside of my thighs pretty hard, but as her hands drift between them, she only touches lightly. I'm disappointed; I've not been good with restraint lately. She finishes with my calves and heels and instructs me to flip over.

I wonder for a second if it's even safe to be this relaxed and this horny simultaneously. No towel this time, but she hands me a silk cloth, explaining that some people prefer to drape it over their eyes for a completely removed experience. As much as I want to watch her tight body tensing and relaxing as she works me, I accept the blindfold. I'm aware as I lay down that my pussy is so wet the insides of my thighs are slick. I wonder briefly if Amy can smell my arousal.

On this side, she starts with the fronts of my shoulders and arms. For this I can tell she's leaning in close to me. I catch a whiff of her subtle cologne; it's nice to have her face so close to mine. Then onto my breasts. She handles them delicately and as my nipples erect, she rubs her flattened palm over them. Each one is like a line of fire traveling directly into my clit. I have to bite my lip to keep my groan in my throat.

As Amy's hands slide down my stomach and rest on my hip bones, I'm absolutely squirming. I want her to touch me now. Her hands are light as she brushes them across my belly, then firm as she works the fronts of my thighs. This is when I realize that, without knowing it, I've spread my legs as far as the table will allow, completely exposing my smooth pussy to her. She must think I'm such a needy whore.

Finally, finally, her hands are working the insides of my thighs, and I no longer care what she thinks. I no longer care about being quiet, either. I sigh heavily as she covers my whole pussy with one hand, letting it rest there for a minute. Unconsciously, I push up toward the hand that promises me such great relief. Ultimately, she has mercy on me and infiltrates my pussy with the soft but firm pads of her fingers. She runs them all around my slick folds in a haphazard pattern-I shudder. It's been far too long since I've felt the unpredictability of someone else's touch, and I don't think I can hold out long.

I moan and arch my back as she at last brings two fingers up to my clit, putting pressure on either side and then working it in soft circles. With her other hand, she continues to nonchalantly explore my pussy. I'm so wet, she just slides everywhere. Her strong, slender fingers continue their good work, and my clit is throbbing. By this time my hands are grabbing the underside of the table for support because my hips are pressing wildly into her hand. She increases the pressure along with the speed-I'm out of control. Suddenly I tense up, but not for the right reason. An unexpected and very unwelcome surge of self-consciousness rushes over me. What am I doing? Am I really paying a stranger to help me cum? I shouldn't-

It's like Amy can read my thoughts. With her one hand persevering, she leans forward, and with her mouth so close to my ear I can feel her breath, she whispers, 'Its okay. You can let go.' The gentle reassurance was all I needed. As she finishes her sentence, she increases her pressure for one last time, and before I can even get control over myself, I'm cumming wildly: jerking, gasping for air, crying out. I feel like it's going on forever, and when it's finally over, I'm completely spent.

I feel like I'll never be able to move again. At least, I don't want to. Amy pulls a soft thin sheet over my body, up to my shoulders, and she's back at my ear again. 'Take as long as you like to recover. I hope you enjoyed.' I can hear her moving toward the door, and just before she opens it, she adds 'Thank you.' And then she's gone.



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