A Pre-New Year Massage


I came completely unprepared. Mildly intoxicated and bringing on my hands and back the wintry winds that chilled the avenues, I heard this beautiful man talk to me about the specials. I requested the big leaf… “you know, the one that beats you…” I think I said.

He smirked. “Really?” He suggested I watch first; but, in a hurry to feel as relaxed as I can, I just hand-picked whatever he mentioned before. He smiled.

Towels. Shorts. Robe. All of them will get dirty quite quickly. Funny, women with bathing suits… I knew it was a co-ed house but I always imagined that we would all sit around in the unbearably beautiful heat in our birthday suits. You know, we would just all let it out and melt onto the tile. My mother worked at a woman’s gym, and together we all sat nude or semi-nude. And I do recall some hint of a memory in which I sat naked with men and women alike, all sweating together in a dark room. Sounds of panting and light conversation. It just seems most natural.

I improvised with my tank top (sans bra) and shorts (sans panties). He took me through the porous, wet room and down a hall. I was escorted into a dry sauna while he prepared. I sat amongst them in the dark. My breath grew taut very quickly, and I almost felt like I was being suffocated. I wasn’t, of course, but I liked the restriction. Made each exhalation incredibly deep and intense. Unlike the steam room, one doesn’t melt, you just sit there as languid as the air around you. Feeling heavy, perhaps. As I drifted into a deep daydream, I was called back out by my masseuse. He was ready.

We stood together in that industrial room, dirty and reminiscent of the public bathrooms in Jamaica. The smell of sweat sweetened the air. I was already in a daze, high from the environment. I felt very touched right away.

“If you’re modest, you can wear a towel.” He pointed to them, folded neatly in a tray above the sink. Before he finished, I pulled the tank top over my head and pushed the shorts down around my ankles. I tossed the moist clothes on the tray and slid onto the massage table.

The crystal salts on my body penetrated through my skin. He rubbed them against me, over me as he worked his roaming hands up and down my back, my butt, my legs. He rolled the flesh around my neck and kneaded the stiffness out of my soles. I felt an hot, white energy pour into me and I became warm all over, not from the coat of humidity that covered my body, but from the teasing droplets of water he sprayed over my body, and how the cold water trickled down the sides of my upper thigh.

I turned around and remembered, briefly, that my pubis had grown unruly during that winter. But, I didn’t feel embarrassed. What could I do about it then? Shave it? Apologize? I had gotten the giggles quite quickly. I was lying in a pool of lukewarm water being sensuously touched from head to toe. My body was pink and quivering under a dimmed light. He gently pushed my shoulders down, as I was so sensitive my entire body had curled like burnt paper.

Wait, I remembered something important. I don’t remember when this exactly happened, but he had covered my eyes with a towel. As I wrote “under a dimmed light,” I had questioned if there was even light at all. There wasn’t.

This casual form of sensory deprivation had definitely added an extra bit of excitement to the mix.

Even as I opened my eyes to darkness, I tried to trace his dancing shadow above me. It had moved from one side to the other like a twister sweeping across a country. My skin felt awake and utterly destroyed.

His shorts had grazed my hair; I felt him behind me. The tip of his penis was just inches from my head, and sheathed only by a pair of cotton underwear. It had stuck to his skin, by then. I peeked at his wet body and chiseled stomach.

When he wasn’t massaging me, he had in hand a shower head that had sprinkled a tickling ecstasy all over my body. I drank some of it, as if I was drinking his… Shit, I thought. I’m horny. My mind had relaxed so much I thought of nothing but inappropriate fantasies. My mouth was forced into a perverse smile. Every time he rubbed my breasts, I slowed it down in my mind so it would last longer. My nipples twitched and pussy flexed. Streams of water ran down my clit, now bulbous and immodestly peeking out from its hood. I wondered if he had looked at my distorted, pleasure-filled face with amusement. Or, if he took it as a sign of some sort.

Suddenly, I realized that my masseuse had settled the showerhead right over my vagina. But what about his hands? They were lovingly rubbing my breasts. He had tipped the showerhead at one point so that the water landed directly onto my clit. I shivered uncontrollably, to which his hands roamed once more to my shoulders and back. Under his touch I relaxed, for a while anyway. But, my pelvis uncontrollably thrusted, as if reaching out to touch the showerhead.

With fingers outstretched, the masseuse ran his hand over my mound of wet pubic hair. His fingertip grazed my clit, now shivering under the chill the water had left behind. He massaged my pussy lips, pressing into the most sensitive parts of my inner thighs, parts that sent little electric shocks through my genitals. I felt my pussy, like a mouth, puckering and sucking in an effort to pull in.

The masseuse ran his fingers up and down my clit. Water splashed down on the center of my chest, with streams of cold liquid splashing against my nipples. They were stung by the bitter movement of the air, and I couldn’t help but vibrate.

I had to bite my lip from moaning. I wondered what would happen if I did sound off some call of orgasm just loud enough so that other guests might hear. Would the entire bathhouse grow incredibly quiet? Would my masseuse enjoy knowing that he got me off? In any event, I didn’t want us to get in trouble. And I enjoyed the warring of our private encounter and that of the talking and feet slapping against the wet floor outside.

With my sound self-contained, my body writhed around on the mossy towel. My back arched and bent and my toes curled as they typically do. My masseuse ran his finger slowly up and down my pussy lips. Then the rain stopped. And he told me he’d give me a moment to relax. I quickly pulled the towel from my eyes and saw him laugh and smile as he left the room.

As if I held my breath, I moaned so loud I had forgotten where I was. Eruptions of laughter had made my body vibrate even more. Suddenly, I had to sober myself up. Once I was still, I wrapped a towel around me and headed outside.

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    • Daisy
    • January 1st, 2010

    Wow. Simply wow. That was both beautiful and hot as all hell without becoming blatantly vulgar. Well done.

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