The Masseuse

He advertises himself as an erotic masseuse on the dating apps. This is his kink profile. 

I’m bored and alone one night and make myself visible to see who might be interested in fucking me. 

When he swipes right I accept it, and when he first messages me his proposal I’m intrigued. His profile picture is of a woman getting a massage. It looks like it was taken from a Chinatown parlor’s Yelp page. It’s absurd, but I enjoy men like this. Unconventional men. Men with secrets. 

My friends and I have been joking about getting a massage with a happy ending. Without having to give anything in return. Just like men all over the city do. My friends would approve of this, I tell myself. I’m emboldened. 

We exchange Kiks, and he sends me a Google photo album. He’s hot, fun, seems traveled, and 10 years older than me. We make plans for the weekend. He asks if he can be naked when I show up. “Of course!” 

He pays for a car service to pick me up and take me to his apartment. On the way there, another man I’ve been seeing texts me to let me know he’s back in town. I haven’t heard from him in a while. I’m reminded the reason I went online and found the masseuse was to get my mind off him.

The masseuse owns his apartment. When I arrive he’s left the door unlocked. I enter with a huge smile, and we greet each other. He’s naked but wearing a robe, standing at the kitchen island ready to pour me a glass of wine. He walks toward me and we hug for the first time. My heart is racing and my hands are a little shaky, but his voice is soothing and mature. I’m clearly nervous and he rubs my arm to relax me. His gentle attention starts to make me wet.

We attend the same yoga studio. It turns out he’s close friends with one of my favorite teachers. I imagine taking class the next day. While the teacher adjusts my warrior pose, I smile, knowing I fucked our deviant mutual acquaintance. I also like having secrets. 

As we’re chatting, he walks around the kitchen island and sits on the bar stool next to me. We are facing each other, and our legs start touching. He reaches out to tease my nipples through my shirt. Having my nipples played with brings me to orgasm–I’ve already told him this. He remembers. 

We start kissing. He tastes good, and feels warm and kind. After a while he asks me to take off my clothes. I oblige, and he sits me on a small couch and tells me to lean back. “I’m going to make you cum more than once tonight,” he says. This man is crazy. I’m going to lose my mind.

He starts licking my pussy softly but with passion and a deep need. He’s naked and stroking his cock on the ground below me. He says licking pussy relaxes him. I look down at him and watch his face buried between my legs. This grown man’s purpose is to give me pleasure right now. I feel powerful and at ease. It’s as though I’m living out a fantasy. I can see he enjoys every second of it. He’s moaning with pleasure as if he’s been deprived of pussy. 

Squeezing my legs and pressing my feet on his back, my orgasm builds. I put my hand on the back of his head, pulling him closer. “Don’t stop, gentle, gentle, suck on my clit, baby.” I rub my nipples and play with my breasts. As I get closer I scream, “I’m coming, daddy. I’m coming!!” 

Something crashes to the ground in the apartment above him. They’re annoyed. He puts his palm on my stomach as I shake from the intensity of the climax. I can’t believe how nice it feels. 

He lifts his head and looks at me, “Time for your massage.” 

I stand up and walk across the apartment into the bedroom. He’s put down a sheet over his bedspread to protect from the massage oil. I lay on my stomach. “Alexa, play Burial,” he chirps. He told me when we met online that he liked my taste in music. It’s adorable listening to him speak to a device. “Alexa, turn it down to a 3.” 

I turn my head to the side and watch him pour the almond oil into his hands. The room is dimly lit and there’s a large mirror in the corner facing us. He starts with my legs, massaging the curves of my calves and thighs. His hands are strong and make their way over and around my ass, down and up the curve of my back. “I made a woman cum by massaging her ass once.” 

“Oh, really.” 

I can feel why. He presses into my ass cheeks and slides his fingers into my crack and into my pussy.

“Roll over,” he says. 

His fingers continue exploring my pussy lips, sliding across my clit. The oil on his fingers makes it easy for him to spread me open. He slides his fingers back and forth, teasing me. I melt into the bed.

“You have such a beautiful pussy.”

“Thank you.” 

He starts going down on me again and all I want to do is fuck him. “Fuck me, please. Please fuck me,” I beg.

He grabs a condom and tells me to lay on my side. He’s thick, and when he enters me I moan with intense satisfaction. 

“Touch your pussy.” He grabs my hand and slides it onto me. “Rub your pussy for me, baby.” And I start masturbating for him while he fucks me. I’m overcome. His tone is authoritative but calming, and he has a soft control over my body. 

“Can I ride you?” I get on top of him and he thrusts his cock inside me. Every time he jerks up and deeper inside me I cry out. I can’t hold back anymore and begin fucking him. I bounce up and down on his cock and place his hands on my breasts. I suck on his fingers and grind my clit against the base of his penis. It feels amazing. We slow down–he needs to take a break. He has lower back problems and starts to tire. When he can’t orgasm inside me he asks to jerk off in front of me. “Yes baby,” I say.

“Will you suck on my balls?”

“Yes, baby.” I lower myself to the ground beneath him and lick the underside of his penis. He strokes in a stilted rhythm. I watch his technique so I can mimic it for him later. He moans desperately as he strokes himself. “Unnhhh, unhhh.” Something in the way he moans sounds hopeless for love. “Yes, baby!” He cries out in joy when he cums for me.

Baby is a word that should be reserved for relationships. I don’t know why either of us have given in but it feels good.

When we’re done he rolls over and cuddles with me. Kissing my forehead, he holds me close and strokes my hair. He starts to tell me about more of his fantasies. “I’ve always had this dream that one woman suggests her friend come over for a massage. That would be such a compliment to be shared with your friend.” He describes a scenario where a friend and I come over and we get massages together. “Do you know anyone that would be interested?” He’s angling.

I think about it for a second. “Would they have to touch you?” 

“No, but I’d like to be able to cum for them.” I’m starting to come back to reality. 

We lay in silence for a while. “Women always want me to be their boyfriend.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“Because I have such a good personality.” 

I laugh. 

Photo by Pixabay