What girl doesn't dream of putting her fanny in someone's hands?
I wanted to finish the second part of the Katlin and Missy tale, since I've already outlined it and people seem to like the first part. But I couldn't get this one out of my mind. I went to a masseur about a year ago. He let me take all my clothes off. I'm not the least bit shy about that. But the massage was otherwise pretty tame. I guess he got a great view of everything, but so do the guys at a free beach. He never touched me anywhere inappropiate. I guess I would have liked it to have been more like it was for this girl.
Love and kisses - Cathy
My Pussy Pleaser
I wasn't a virgin, but so far in my limited experience, getting fucked had never been this pleasant. I'm eighteen, been in college two months now, and really enjoying being hundreds of miles from my home. Not that my rents were bad or anything. But there was this whole secrecy thing. I pretended I was a good girl and mum pretended that she didn't know I was fucking my boyfriends even though I was using birth control.
The first couple of times weren't all that good. I loved more the idea of being loved in the carnal sense, than the actual fact. I'd walk around in a daze making up details that didn't actually happen. Before college, I'd had two lover, neither one any more experienced than me. I knew what I wanted them to do but they didn't. One of the things on my list was genital coupling. It was about the only thing either of them actually managed. For that I was greatful. But I also wanted romance, foreplay, dominance, bondage. Actually I didn't know what I wanted. Many of these things were just names to me. But I wanted to find out what else there was besides just the pleasure of feeling a boy's dick shafting my vagina.
Most girls my age are attractive. I'm 5'6", 110, 35-23-35, long brown hair, size B tits. Guys tell me I'm pretty and I don't think they're lying. I'm a little body shy, or maybe a closet exhibitionist who's afraid to let go. Anyway, laying naked on a massage table is really tintillating. And this georgeous guy is standing next to me, helping me slip off my panties. The deal is he's not supposed to fuck me. I wish it wasn't part of the deal. I can just tell he knows a lot more about fucking a girl than either of my two high school boyfriends. My masseur looks about in his mid twenties. But if he spends his days doing this, he probably knows a lot more about female bodies than even most men his age. He certainly knows how to excite me. Just standing there he's making me wet myself.
"Very good", he says. These are almost his first words. But as he says them he's slipping a tissue under my pubes. He knows I'm wetting myself. I know he knows. And with two simple words he's told me that my emotions are as visible to him as my pussy hole, and that he approves of both. It's almost embarrassing how casually he brushes my lips with the back of his hand. I've never before been naked with a man who had such control. My boyfriends would have been all over me by now. No suspense, no buildup, just insertion.
I was told to call him Pierre. As I joy in the fact that he can touch me there without losing his cool, I instantly realize I want him to lose his cool. I want him to press his hand into my womanhood. Girlhood. Whatever. Knowing this will not happen, I press myself down against the male flesh. He holds it still and stiff, letting me fuck myself against the back of his hand. I realize later that I was wiggling my fanny in about as erotic a fashion as possible. In any other situation that alone would be embarrassing. I've never given a lover such a wonton show of sexuality. It never even occurred to me to do so. When I regain control of myself, he calmly withdraws his hand leaving behind the tissue, acting as if nothing unusual has happened. Perhaps it is not unusual to have naked eighteen year old girls act like sluts rubbing their naked genitals against him. But for me this has never before happened.
I am beyond embarrassment. What I just did was much worse, or better, than masturbation or intercourse. I can't believe I did it! I can't believe I want to do it again! A guy is supposed to make the moves. A girl who rushes things faster than her partner is a slut. A girl who offers her vagina to a man who isn't even her partner is something else. Being something else was giving me this wonderful tingling feeling that seemed to start in my toes and my tits and crash together in my fanny. I've heard orgasms are like that, that sometimes a girl feels them through her whole body. This might not be intense enough to be an orgasm. But maybe it is. And it's not going away.
I've been lying here naked for less than five minutes and I've already lost my heart to a pair of hands. Sometimes, when we're in a hurry or afraid someone will catch us, my boyfriends fuck me very quickly. I was once fucked, penetrated two minutes after he shut off the car engine. Max spent about five minutes shafting me before exploding inside my pussy. Since I was using the pill, he didn't even have to bother with a rubber. In ten minutes flat we were both again dressed and on our way. I didn't even have time to get excited. But I was eager to do it that way if it was the only way.
The remarkable thing about Pierre was that he was taking his time. And yet, in five minutes, doing almost nothing, he'd turned me on more than any male ever had before. I'd heard the term "sex slave". I'm not sure what it means other than what it implies. Right then I wanted more than anything, more even than sex, to be Pierre's sex slave. Knowing that probably a dozen women a day fell for him that way didn't stop me from wanting to be one of his herem.
I was only paying fifty for an hour massage. Missy, the girl who had sent me here had said that if you ask, he will finger fuck you. For penetration you were expected to pay him an extra thirty. At the time I couldn't understand why a girl would pay a man to invade her vagina. It's supposed to be the other way around. Now I understood.
Pierre seemed totally in control of himself. But I certainly wasn't so I was probably not a good judge of anyone else. The massage had started off with my disrobing. I hadn't known whether to take off everything before getting up on the table or not. I wanted to get naked. Testing my body shyness was thrilling. But I just didn't know what was proper or even how to ask. Pierre answered with his hands, slipping off my bra and panties immediately as if there was no possible reason for wearing them. I knew if I ever did this again I would not repeat that mistake. Not that I didn't love feeling him undress me. But I realized now that wearing underclothes marked me as a novice.
I don't think Pierre minded my pussy juices wetting the mat under my crotch. The placement of the tissue was probably just an excuse to casually touch me there, to set the tone. And boy was my tone set from then on. He could have done anything, told me to do anything. The regular massage commenced. By then I wanted to be fucked so much that no place he touched me was too personal. In fact, since he wasn't sticking his dick inside my vagina, no place he touched me was personal enough. The longer the massage lasted, the hornier I got. He started with my back, naturally, then my legs. I felt his hands sliding up toward my crotch, dying for him to hurry up and get there. When he did, he rubbed his fingers between my legs and the outside of my lips. He reached under, cupped my vagina in one hand and squeezed me. My soul melted into his palm. Forget intercourse, or at least the times I'd been shafted by my two boyfriends. This coupling, my pussy lips inside his hand, was the best joining I'd ever experienced.
But he didn't part my lips and feel inside me, as much as I wanted it. That might come later and would cost me extra. But the cupping, having my cunt lips fondled was fantastic. I may have even had an orgasm. It relieved some of my tension and allowed me to experience the next twenty minutes without the frustration becoming unbearable. I learned that anywhere he touched me felt like a jolt inside my crotch. Elsewhere also. At one point he was squeezing my feet.
"Have you ever enjoyed anal sex? It feels something like this."
He pressed a spot in the sole of my foot, the same spot in both feet. It wasn't hard, though I could feel him doing it. But at the same time I felt a much stronger sensation in my anus. I would have thought of it as akin to a delightful bowel movement. Maybe that's what good anal sex feels like. I loved it! Pierre could make me feel anything it seemed without even doing anything to me. He was doing things to me with his fingers that I thought only happened in science fiction stories.
He spent a fair amount of time on my arms. It was pleasant but wouldn't have been very erotic had my senses not already been overwhelmed. Perhaps he felt I needed a few minutes to relax. By this time my nipples and clit were so hard and swollen that they felt ready to burst. Could an erect penis be any more obvious than my nipples, bare naked, huge and pointing up at the ceiling? For that matter my clit felt erect, and when I looked it was visible sticking out of my lips. I'd never seen it like that before. Displaying such arrousal might have embarrassed me with anyone else, even one of my lovers. But since it had never happened before I had no way of knowing. If a man could do this to me, I guess I'd probably be happy to let him see it. I was certainly happy that Pierre could see what he was doing to me.
About two-thirds of the way through the hour I was again face up when he put his thumb lightly on my clit and asked me softly if I wanted the deluxe massage. Too zonked to speak I just nodded my head. No way was I going to forego the finger fucking, though before coming I'd thought I would save myself the extra money. I felt a finger sink inside me and welcomed it. Slowly and smoothly he increased the stimulation. I saw earlier that he had vaginal lubricant next to his oils. The KY wasn't necessary as wet as I was. But Pierre used it and I loved how slippery it made my insides.
I was told to turn over. Lube was smoothly buttered into my fanny. A thick finger, his thumb, sank inside me. There was no resistance. I probably had to have my sphincter stretched. But I could sense no pain, only extreme pleasure. When I was so comfortable with my impailment that I was pushing back against his thumb, trying to force it harder inside my rectum, he began again invading my pussy with his other fingers. When I felt all four inside me, including his knuckles, I knew he had me more open than I'd ever been for one of my lovers. It felt wonderful.
Then he slowly pressed his finger tips together.
He did it slowly letting me feel what was happening. I could tell from the first light pressure that what was about to happen inside me would be more intense than anything I'd ever imagined. I had no will power to ask him to stop. I had no desire to ask him to stop. At some point I lost my mind to indescribable pleasure. I didn't lose consciousness, but I had no ability to think. I do remember the unbearable pleasure. Naturally I orgasmed. It went beyond that. My first ever orgasm was simply a transition to something even more intense. Call it a super orgasm. Since Pierre, guys can now give me orgasms easily. But I've never again experienced this other thing.
When I came down from heaven enough to be aware of what was happening I was still face down on the mat, my hard nipples pressing dimples into the foam, Pierre's fingers still inside me in both places. It seemed like a year later. It may have only been a few minutes. Like when a boyfriend with patience has just ejaculated inside me, I was glad to feel the comforting pressure still there. I think that's what comes closest to love, feeling a man still inside me after he's finished pleasuring himself. I don't care about the sticky mess. I'll gladly lay there enjoying him for as long as he wants to stay inside me.
In Pierre's case, of course, it wasn't love. For him it wasn't even lust. But I'm sure he enjoys doing this to girls. I've heard about DP and the delight some girl's feel when her two lovers press against each other pinching her membrane between them. Pierre, however, using his fingers can find some G spot in there that two penises never find accidently. Precision versus accident. And apparently he's had a lot of practice.
When I'd recovered enough, Pierre withdrew his fingers. I can't say I wanted him to do this, but I found it bearable, this now empty feeling, the longing I felt in my pussy and my fanny for my lover's fingers. I had the memory and always will. Pierre ran his hands lightly over my body. It felt like a lover's touch, not a massage. With detached amusement I felt my body responding on it's own, my fanny trying to press up against his hands as his fingers traced ecstasy over my cheeks. When he decided it was time he stopped touching me.
"You're welcome to lie there for a few minutes, if you want, before dressing."
If he hadn't suggested a time limit I might still be lying there. I was totally zonked and happier than ever before. When I left the room and entered the little entry where he had a desk, he was there holding my coat. I reached inside my purse and handed him eighty dollars, all I had with me. I might have been tempted to give him more though for me that was a lot of money. Missy had also told me that he won't take extra tips. Girls leave there not exactly in control of their emotions. He doesn't want the girl to feel later like she was cheated.
Looking back on the experience is like reliving a wet dream. Funny I use that term. I'm not sure a girl's fantasies actually qualify. I think that technically you have to have a dick and ejaculate while sleeping. But I do dream about getting fucked. Lately, mostly I dream about lying on a pad, so wonderfully fucked that I have neither the ability nor desire to even lift an arm. I might as well be in bondage I'm so imprisoned by my emotions and my surrender to my lover's will. My lover is, of course, Pierre and he has his fingers deep inside me. By myself I cannot reconstruct that super orgasm. It happened to me yet is still beyond my imagination. Instead, I'm just lying there, not being pinched, just filled, in love with Pierre, and ready to spend the rest of eternity laying there delighting in the feel of his fingers inside me. And totally aware that I'm only a slight pinch away from a pleasure I can't even describe.
Missy also told me that he has an even more special service. The last client of the day pays him three hundred dollars. You have to make a reservation ahead of time because only one woman a day, at most, gets this special treatment which only starts with the standard massage. Missy doesn't know the details or any girl who's actually ponied up the money. Probably just rich middle aged biddies. I wonder if he'd offer a discount for a young piece of ass like me?