Trust Fall
We’d discussed fantasies of inviting someone else to play, but after decades of marriage, we had no real intention of acting on those visions. That is until I had a taste of another man’s hands caressing my labia and dipping into my pussy.
~~~
It’s been a few months since my unwitting, deep-tissue, full-release massage. I had called James as soon as I returned home—well, after a shot of vodka—to inform him of what happened. It was my third visit to the massage parlor, and neither of the first two massages clued me into what might happen during the third.
The massage started off like any other deep tissue massage. The young, male masseuse took his time massaging my glutes and eventually removed the small towel covering my ass in order to dig deeper. After I turned face up, he folded the towel so it was just below my mound and had me bend my knee and lay my leg to the side as he worked my inner thigh. I had a tight tendon and, while he was working it, he repeatedly bumped up against my labia. The masseuse came to the head of the table and asked if I was enjoying the massage. I moaned. He laughed and asked if that was a yes—I said it was. At this point he suggested I bend both knees and allow them to fall to the side. I knew I was on full display. He looked me in the eyes and asked, “is this okay?” I nodded. He began to massage my labia and I sunk into the intense pleasure and taboo. Again he asked how I liked the massage. I breathed, “It is… incredibly… thorough.”
Then the masseuse slipped his fingers into my wetness and it was difficult to know how to react. It felt amazing, but I couldn’t believe this was really happening. The more his fingers worked their magic, the more I moaned. He put his hand over my mouth and continued his extremely deep tissue massage. While his fingers continued their exploration, he put his face close to mine. He breathed on my neck and kissed my chin. I pinched my nipples through the towel until he pulled it down and sucked—hard!—on my right nipple while I pinched the left. I felt his hardness against my elbow. With his hand still covering my mouth, he asked if I was going to cum for him. I moved my right hand to my clit and kept pinching my nipple with my left while he finished me off with his fingers. I squirted on the table.
The masseuse placed my hand against his crotch so I could truly appreciate his hardness while he put his thumb in my mouth. I felt like putty. He asked if I wanted to lick it and I moaned my yes. He untied his scrub pants, freed his erect cock, and guided it into my mouth (all I had to do was turn my head to the side on the massage table). I cupped his ass while he fucked my mouth until he came. Before he left the room, he whispered “request me again if you want another deep tissue massage.”
James thought I was joking at first when I explained what happened over the phone. I understand. It was probably due to my nervous laughter. I could barely believe it myself. Another man’s dick in my mouth. It was taboo. Obscene. I was 50 years old! But the act of being seduced by another was intoxicating. If anything, James was jealous. Not of my unplanned indiscretions. No, he wished he could’ve been a fly on the wall. He wished to watch. To hear. To appreciate what I was experiencing, even if it wasn’t by his hands. He tasked me with writing the massage story and publishing it on a kink site where we were both members.
A few weeks later, a man named Sean reached out after reading my account of the massage and mentioned he had a portable massage table. I filed away the information for later use. He followed up by messaging my husband requesting permission to speak to me and asking if James would be okay sharing me. Sean and I flirted a bit. We shared face pics—his eyes looked kind—and more intimate photos. He grew up in the area I had recently moved to and our conversations weren’t forced. Finally, I contacted Sean to see if he was interested in an in-person encounter.
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