A Fantasy Job

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Anal

I have a dream job. Or perhaps more of a fantasy job. Unfortunately those fantasies are mostly in the minds of my friends. I run my own private massage therapy practice from home, no other staff, just me and the clients. So my friends luridly imagine this means I spend my days oiling the pliant thighs of nubile young ladies who are then so overcome with lust that they rip off my clothes and have their wicked way with me. I try not to spoil their illusions but it’s not really quite like that.

For a start, at least in my experience, nubile young ladies don’t have the spare cash for regular massage. Or if they do they’ve found something better to spend it on that being groped by a 40-year-old guy. In reality many of my clients are the wrong side of 60 and most are the downhill side of 40. That seems to be the age at which the arrival of the spare money coincides with the onset of the twinges and niggles that call for a massage.

And quite a few are men. Not that that’s a problem. They are easy ones. With them everything is by the book, especially the draping. I’m not gay so being scrupulous with things like that lets the ones who might be hoping know that I will not be offering ‘a happy ending’. It saves us both the embarrassment of them asking and me turning them down. It also lets the heterosexual ones know my practice is legit so their sweet wives will be safe in my hands. And mostly they are.

But with the attractive ones I let things be a bit more relaxed. If those husbands only knew the countless happy hours I’ve spent feasting my eyes on their wives’ supposedly hidden treasures in all their wonderful variety. I love them all, from the neat little slits to the large fleshy lips, the smoothly waxed to the luxuriant bushes and the ones that stay shut clam-tight to the those that gently unfurl and even glisten in the candlelight. A lot of women like candlelight.

And every now and again there’s a surprise. I mean who would have thought that beneath her prim uniform Charlotte, our local girl guide leader had a little gold clit ring complete with a blood red stone?

Some of the more naive ones may not realise what I’m seeing but a surprising number join in the little game, wriggling and fidgeting until the drape has ridden up that crucial couple of inches or opening their legs that little bit wider than necessary for the massage.

Most, I think, are just giving themselves a naughty little thrill, flashing a man who’s not their husband, others maybe just want to see if they can interest another man after all these years of wedlock and others perhaps want to see if they can provoke a reaction. Occasionally one will ‘accidentally’ move their hand on the edge of the table so that it fleetingly brushes me to see if it has had any effect. One or two, I’m pretty sure, would like the massage to go further. The trouble is how can you tell which ones are which? It’s the sort of thing you only need to get wrong once to find yourself in deep trouble. So mainly I just admire the scenery.

My favourites are the tennis club crowd. They tend to be a bit younger and more relaxed with their bodies. In summer the long afternoons on the court lend them a healthy glow and the exercise keeps their muscles firmer, which is more pleasant to work on than a mountain of flab. Oh yes, guys, I get those too.

Best of all is Julia. She’s the wife of one of the local doctors, my own GP in fact. These days she does something vaguely managerial down at the health centre but her background was in nursing. Apparently it was the classic hospital romance, the attractive young nurse and the dashing trainee doctor, their eyes meeting over the bedpans or however these things work. Despite her move to pen pushing she’s retained that earthy sense of humour you find in a lot of medics. Presumably they get it from seeing too many semi-naked people in undignified positions. She’s been coming to me for a couple of years and over that time we’ve developed a relaxed, jokey and occasionally mildly flirty relationship, which I enjoy.

Lately she’s been having problems with tightening in her hamstrings – the long muscle in the back of the thigh – so we’ve been working on those and I’ve been on what Julie calls ‘first name terms with her arse.’ And a very bahis firmaları nice arse it is too – in my professional opinion. Still firm and quite pert despite pushing forty. I’d finished her hamstrings and turned her over to loosen the quads on the front of the thigh and was now doing the inside of her leg, working from knee to groin. At least the fact the drape was not hiding all it should have let me see exactly how far I could go. I’d just returned to her knee when she let out a theatrically exasperated sigh.

“God, Michael, you really know how to tease a girl, don’t you?”

“Sorry?”

“Well, you’ve been ogling my bum for God knows how long, then I’ve been lying here, legs apart for God knows how long again while you do your magic fingers bit and every time I think it’s going to get interesting you go back to my knee!”

I was a bit taken aback by that. As I said, we sometimes indulge in a bit of light flirting but nothing like this. Unable to think of any response I’d dare give I settled for a non-committal chuckle which would let me laugh it off.

“No wonder my husband likes me coming here. He says I always come home horny as hell.”

Mention of her husband seemed to be putting things back on a proper therapist/client basis. Working from home I’m a bit fuzzy on where the boundaries are supposed to be but we seemed to have been nudging it for a moment. “Lucky husband,” I said. That seemed safe enough.

“Not tonight he’s not. He’s in Harrogate at a conference. I may have to pounce on the paper boy.”

“If it’s the same one we have round here you’d better be careful. I suspect he’s not actually legal yet,” I replied with another chuckle. This seemed fairly light-hearted stuff again.

“I think he’d love it. Isn’t that what all teenage boys dream of? A Mrs Robinson moment?”

“Oh, I’m sure he would be made up with it. It’s the cops you need to watch out for.”

“Well if I can’t do the paper boy a favour, who can I get?” she said with mock petulance.

“I think any red-blooded male would be delighted to help you there,” I said, keeping the banter going.

“What? Any red-blooded male”? she asked. My attention had been on her knee but there was something in the way she said ‘any’ that made me glance up. She was looking straight at me and repeated: “Any red-blooded male, Michael? No exceptions?”

Where was this going? Was she propositioning me? Or was she just teasing? It felt like a dangerous game but I was not going to be the first to back down. “Oh I’m sure it’s any.”

“No exceptions?”

She wasn’t going to back down either. So I looked straight into her eyes and replied; “Definitely no exceptions.”

“And what might one of the red-blooded males do to me?”

That was a tricky one, calling for a bit of initiative and for me to take things forward. But I played it safe and asked “What would your husband do?”

Perhaps because of her medical training she realised this was going to have to come from her. By now my hand was working at the top of the inside of her thigh. She said: “I think he might do something like this.” She slowly took hold on my wrist and with gentle pressure drew my hand over her pussy so that my hand cupped her trim mons and my fingers covered her slit. Then with the other hand she gently pressed my middle finger onto the furrow of her lips, not actually inside, just lying along the groove. My mouth was dry and I could feel the heat coming from her.

“What would your husband do then?” I asked softly but she had had enough of that game and obviously felt she had made enough of the running.

“The great thing about being married to a doctor is they study anatomy, including female anatomy. Do masseurs study anatomy, Michael?” Wherever that ethical boundary was before it was now a long way behind us as I gently curled my middle finger and parted her lips. She was gratifyingly wet. She’d obviously been thinking about this for a while. I lubricated my finger with her fluid and then slowly drew it over her hard little clit. She gave a smile and said: “Oh good. This masseur also understands anatomy.”

She brushed the drape of and for the first time I said all of Julia. I knew she was in great shape but now I could slowly appreciate kaçak iddaa all of her from the brunette bob hair cut, the elfin face down to the breasts with their pale pink nipples about an inch across. Lying on her back her stomach was flat, leading down to a patch of pubic hair neatly trimmed for a bikini and then those muscled thighs I already knew so well. I circled her clit before dipping back between her lips, moving from one to the other as she because more aroused. “What about internal anatomy?” she gasped. I brought my finger to my mouth and sucked it before slipping it back inside and going in search of her G-spot. She was hot and wet and felt incredibly tight. I realised she had never mentioned children. This was one of the tightest pussies I’d ever known. Even so I had no trouble locating the small patch of rough skin and she gasped again as I moved my finger on it.

“Oh yes,” she moaned. “But I don’t think you needed to wet your finger. I’m more than aroused enough.”

I chuckled again. “I wasn’t wetting you, Julia. I was tasting you. It was delicious.”

That produced another spasm around my questing finger. “There are better ways of doing that,” she said. ‘Be my guest….I insist.”

I complied. Bending down to kiss her stomach and then working my way over he public hair to the waxed lips and her clit, flicking it with my tongue. It was not the most comfortable arrangement, bending over the table flicking her clit with my tongue while continuing to massage her G-spot but I did not think this was going to take long. Her breath was already ragged and her hips were pumping on my finger. She began to groan in rhythm to my finger before coming hard, her internal muscles squeezing me tightly. She must work on those a lot. As her orgasm washed over her she pushed my head away, the stimulation on her clit proving too much. I stilled my finger but left it inside and my lips went to her breasts, gently suckling on the nipples as she came down.

“Oh wow,’ she breathed. ‘That was gorgeous.” Now for the moment of truth. Was that it? Would she just take the orgasm as a ‘happy ending’ to the massage. I hoped not. My cock was iron hard and I wanted more of this sexy woman. I decided to push it a bit.

“What would your husband do now?”

“After an orgasm like that he’d be ripping his clothes off and demanding his reward,” she said. I pulled my t-shirt over my head, slipping off my shoes at the same time but thought I’d better offer her an escape route and suggested: “Why don’t you help with the rest?’

She ran a hand down my chest, combing her fingers though the hair before rolling off the table and getting onto her knees in front of me. This was looking promising, Very promising indeed. She unclasped my belt and the clip at my waist and lowered the zip before pulling the trousers to my ankles and helping me step out of them She ran her hand over the bulge in my underpants, my stiff cock outlined by the material. She let out an approving “Mmmm” before slipping her fingers into the waistband and easing them down. My cock sprang out and she wrapped her right hand around it gently pulling the foreskin back over the purple head.

“Oh you wicked man! You’re not my husband at all. You’re an imposter. It’s a lot of years since I had one with a foreskin in my mouth.” Did that mean I was her first lover for years or just the first uncircumcised one? Who cares? The words ‘ in my mouth’ were blotting out everything else. She looked up at me and then lifted my cock so she could lick my balls and then drag her tongue the length of my shaft before taking the head in her mouth. I had a feeling this was not going to take long either. Her hand gently twisted round the shaft, while her head bobbed back and forwards and her tongue played with the sensitive spot underneath. All too soon I felt my balls tightening and the sperm beginning to rise. I wanted to shot down her throat but thought I ought to tell her I was close in case she did not swallow.

“I’m coming,” I groaned.

“Oh no you’re not,” she said, whipping her head away. It seemed ex-nurses also knew their anatomy and she squeezed behind the head. I almost cried with disappointment as the sperm retreated. It must have shown on my face. “Don’t worry,” she said. kaçak bahis “All in good time. But by now my husband would have taken pity on my poor aged knees on this floor and taken me somewhere more comfortable.”

I helped her to her feet and led her, both of us naked, across the landing to my bedroom, desperately hoping I’d left the room tidy. I’d not been planning on company today. Fortunately it was OK. At least the bed was made. My eyes flicked to the bedside drawer, trying to remember if there were condoms inside. I was between girlfriends at the moment so did not need them. Not that either of us had mentioned them yet. If she didn’t I wasn’t going to. After all if you can’t trust a doctor’s wife to be clean and have her birth control sorted out who can you trust?

She crawled onto the bed on all fours, looking over her shoulder at me and wiggling her rump coquettishly. But then she rolled onto her back. “Face to face for a first time, I think. Don’t you?” opening her arms invitingly. I crawling onto the bed between her legs and dipped my head towards her pussy. “No I don’t need that. I’m ready. I want to be fucked please,” she said.

Still no mention of condoms but just in case I rubbed the head up and down her lips to lubricate my cock and to give her a last chance even though I was desperate for my naked cock to experience the hot wet tightness my finger had enjoyed. I wondered later if she had used her access at the medical centre to check my health records. Still a bit dodgy, I’d have thought, but when she said nothing I let my weight push my cock into her, relishing the feeling of the tight wall forcing the hood back off the sensitive head. It took half a dozen thrusts and retreats before I got all of it inside and I lay still for a few heartbeats, savouring the moment.

Then I began the slow thrusting, her thighs wrapped round mine, pulling me into her and using the leverage to work her own hips. It felt exquisite as I heard her excitement increasing. I wanted to see her and pushed up onto my arms, locking my elbows so I could look at her entire body and watch my cock, glistening with her juices, sliding in and out.

She took the opportunity to move her fingers to her clit and began frantically rubbing it as she got closer and closer to her release. She told me to go faster but I was desperately trying not to come as I watched this incredibly horny woman pleasuring herself as I hammered in and out of her. Her orgasm hit with a loud cry and at last I could let myself go. Remembering the lack of a condom I groaned: “I’m coming, I’m coming” and this time nothing could stop me. Julia made no attempt to get away but wrapped her legs round me, holding me in as I began pumping my seed into her unprotected body. I know that a man’s ejaculation is measured in teaspoons but today it felt like pints. Jolt after jolt passed through my body as my balls emptied themselves deep inside her and I collapsed. She eased my weight off her.

We lay side by side, recovering, as it dawned on me I had just fucked the wife of the local doctor. Bareback. And she was now lying in my bed, full of my sperm. The same thought must have occurred to her as she said: “I’d better have a shower.”

“Mmm,” I said glancing at the clock. “Because I’ve got another client in…..bloody hell, ten minutes.”

We both jumped out of bed – so much for a gentle post-coital cuddle – and ran into the therapy room, Julie urgently pulling on her lacy knickers and me stripping the towels and drape from the table to replace them with fresh ones before pulling on my own clothes.

Julia giggled at the way we’d almost been caught like naughty school kids. “I hope your next client does not expect the same treatment. She may be disappointed if I have worn you out.”

“Other clients don’t get that treatment,” I said. “Besides, she is a he, Mike Mortimer from the tennis club.”

“Shit! I really had better dash before he sees looking like I’ve just been table-ended by my masseur. Next week you’d better book me as the last client. That way we won’t get caught and I’ll have time for a proper shower. It’s all very well sending me home in this state when my husband is in Harrogate but I think he might notice if you send me home full of you next week.”

And giving me a quick peck on the cheek, which I suddenly realised was our first kiss, she was gone. I think Mike may have found me a bit distracted during his massage but I was already thinking about next week.

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