This is a true story of a friend of mine, a golfing buddy. He’s several years younger than I am, but we get along well and share some tales. I’ll tell this from his side of the story, because it sounds better that way. He has read this and approves. Mike is a successful businessman, now, but it wasn’t always that way…
My name is Mike and I am educated in sports medicine and physical therapy. For a while, I was the Assistant Athletic Trainer at an Arizona college near where I live, but budget cutbacks forced them to let me go. I was 31 and single, and I thought of becoming a “personal trainer” but with no clientele and no funds to prop me up, I needed a job to pay the bills. I got hired by a high end resort spa in the area as a masseur, and had no trouble getting my license. They charged $150 for a one hour massage and I got half of that plus any “tips” that came my way.
Most of the customers were older women, not very attractive, but who could afford a day at the spa. Often, they spent $500 or more on all of the various treatments. It wasn’t a bad gig, and occasionally, a good looking woman or celebrity would come in and it would be fun, for a while. Nothing went on, but we all fantasize, right? Oh, by the way, I am 6’2” and 185 and I keep myself in good shape. I’ve been told I’m good looking, but who knows? I have no trouble getting dates and sex is no problem. Life is good.
One day, I picked up an appointment from an older woman who the manager said was a “regular” customer. She was in for a one hour full-body massage and I was given the assignment. Now these aren’t too hard, because most clients simply want a soothing, relaxing massage; not the deep muscle, injury massages that are hard work, and often painful.
The lady was in the massage room when I walked in, on the table, and a towel covering her body from her shoulder blades to just below her ass. I could tell she had once been a beauty; in fact, she still was, even at the age of about 50 or so. She had a slender figure, firm, toned legs and a naturally beautiful skin that was clear and almost wrinkle free. She had a slightly olive complexion, perhaps Mediterranean; Greek or Italian ancestry, very dark hair with a few grey hairs sprinkled in. She wore a huge diamond ring on her left hand, but had put her other valuables into a lockbox that all clients are provided. She was introduced as a Mrs., but told me to call her Marcia.
I asked her what she wanted, to make sure I knew her preferences, and she told me she wanted a full body massage and wanted to feel completely relaxed when she was through; in other words, “the usual”. I folded the sheet down from her shoulders to her waist, and poured some oil onto my hands and began with her neck and shoulders, simply to relax her. Long, slow, relaxing strokes to stretch the muscles, but not digging too deeply. Then I moved to one hand, and massaged each finger and joint, slowly working my way up her arm to her shoulder; then the other side. Then her neck, ears and chin, working my way back to her shoulders, and the slowly down to her waist. Her breasts were pressed to the table, and I didn’t even notice them; this was all routine and non sexual.
When I reached her waist, I simply massaged her lower back, and moved my fingers beneath the towel to massage her upper buttocks and glute area. I folded the towel back up to her shoulder blades, and moved to her feet. Starting with her toes, I massaged every joint and muscle, slowly moving higher, to her thighs. The towel covered her butt and I couldn’t see any higher; I didn’t even try. As I got toward the upper half of her thigh, I was about to stop when she whispered something and I leaned down to hear better.
“Higher, please.” she said. So, I returned to the backs of her legs, and using both hands, began to massage, gradually moving higher. She spread her legs, and her ass lifted off the table, slightly, elevating her ass into the air. She tugged the towel, slightly, and it pulled up so I could see the bottom of her buttocks and her pubic area, from behind. I said nothing, but continued to massage, slowly moving higher, and kneading first one buttock, then the other. She was breathing heavily, and I knew she was turned on, and frankly, so was I.
The tips of my fingers brushed her pubic hair and the edge of her lips, and as I stroked one buttock, I made sure to let my fingers massage over her anus. She didn’t pull away; in fact, she only opened her legs more, and her hips came up even higher, exposing her openings. Now, I don’t know how many people are aware that in the 19th century (and the earlier part of the 20th) women used to visit doctors for treatment of the “vapors”. This simply meant that they were not getting “satisfaction” at home, and the doctor would perform vaginal and clitoral massage, bringing them to orgasm; thus releasing the “vapors”. I always thought this was interesting and somewhat stimulating. This lady was clearly after something similar. The clock showed we had about fifteen minutes left, so I continued to get bolder in my massage.
Before long, I was stroking her slit and massaging her clit, and she was moaning and humping my hand for all she was worth. This refined lady was cumming all over my hand. Her body convulsed, and she had about four or five contractions, before she finally collapsed, breathing hard and gasping for breath. I was also worked up, but there was nothing I could, or would, do about it at that point. I just hoped I would still have a job after this. When she finally caught her breath, she rolled onto her back, and whispered “This IS supposed to be a full body massage, isn’t it?”, and the towel slipped below her breasts. Despite her age, they were still fairly firm, and her nipples were large and dark, and clearly aroused. I poured a little more oil on my hands and began to massage each, paying special attention to the nipples. She moaned and seemed to enjoy this a great deal, when our time was up. I covered her, and told her I would see her outside when she was dressed.
I left, and went to the locker room to “straighten up”, and finally got myself adjusted, though I was still partially hard, and went to the reception area. Marcia came out a few minutes later and was expensively dressed and looked absolutely elegant. If I hadn’t known it for myself, no one could possibly tell this lady had just had a tremendous orgasmic experience. She smiled at me and thanked me in front of the manager for “one of the finest massages” she had ever had. She handed me $300 to cover the charge and told me to keep the change! WOW, a $150 tip. She also asked for some of my cards, and I gave her a half dozen; then she left.
I had no steady girlfriend at that time, so that night when I got home, I whacked off in the shower to the memory of that elegant lady’s climax at my hands. It was good.
A couple of days later, I was notified by the desk that I had another appointment “by request”, meaning that the client had specifically asked for me by name. I went into the massage room, to find an absolutely gorgeous brunette, somewhere in her upper twenties, laid out on the table and covered by a towel which didn’t begin to cover her figure. She had very long, black hair and also had slightly olive skin that was flawless. I had never seen her before.
When I asked what type of massage she wanted, she looked at me with gorgeous brown eyes and said she wanted a full body massage, “just like you gave my mother”.
“Your mother?” I asked her. It seems that Marcia was this beautiful creature’s mother. The new client’s name was Michelle and she was also married and sporting a huge diamond; if anything, larger than her mother’s. I began the same massage routine, but as I was about to move to her feet, she rolled over, pulled the towel down to reveal two magnificent breasts, and instructed me to “finish the top, please, before you do the bottom”. I started massaging her stomach, and slowly moved up to her breasts, and massaged them carefully, milking each nipple until she was panting and covered with a light perspiration.
Then I rolled her over, and with the towel just over her waist, moved to her toes and began working up, trying not to stare at her lovely ass. Her buttocks were firm and rounded, and she obviously kept herself in good shape. As I got to her knee, her legs spread apart, and I could see the lips of her cunt; they were shaved bare, and moisture showed in the slit. By now, I knew exactly what was expected, and worked up each leg, slowly, until I reached her ass. I massaged each mound carefully, letting my fingers brush her anus, and when she lifted her ass up to meet my hands, I slipped the tip of one finger in her puckered hole, and she just moaned and tried to press back against my finger.
Then I began massaging the inner top of her thighs, and my fingers slid into her slit; she was slippery wet. I found her clit and began massaging slightly; reducing the pressure when she seemed to be getting close. “Please…please…don’t stop…” she whispered, almost desperately. I slipped one finger into her and found her G spot, and she exploded into a series of violent convulsions, and had to jam the towel into her mouth to smother the cries. Finally, she began to relax, and I began wiping her body down with a cool, damp cloth. She was covered in perspiration. I left the room so she could dress, and told her I would see her at the front desk.
When Michelle emerged, fully clothed, she was absolutely breathtaking. If you can picture Jessica Alba, you might have an idea. She did take after her mother. Once again, in front of the manager and a couple of others, she thanked me for one of the best massages she had ever had, and handed me another $300, with instructions to keep the change. I had several other “special requests” from referrals from Marcia and Michelle over the next few weeks, all of whom were very attractive and wealthy. I also gave another “spa treatment” for Marcia, who asked me if I ever did house calls. I told her I did not, as I didn’t have the equipment, such as a portable massage table, and the Resort didn’t provide that sort of service. She kept probing, and I admitted I wanted to start my own business but that finances made that improbable. She asked about how much it would cost, what would I need, etc., and in all honesty, I just thought she was being curious.
About a week later, I received a call from a local banker; a major bank, I might add. He told me that another “client” had contacted him, and that I had an account set up in my name, and a major line of credit to draw on, no strings attached. He also had a sealed letter for me when I came to the bank to sign the account documents.
When I got there, the manager had me sign the account documents and informed me the account had a low six figure balance! He had me sign the check cashing card and handed me a sealed envelope with my name on it. Inside was a letter, that essentially said “Michael, Now you can start your own business and can make house calls, whenever you want. I’m sure you will be successful, and have many satisfied clients”. It was simply signed “M”.
My business has been extremely successful, and right from the start, I have had a steady stream of repeat customers, and new referrals, from time to time. My “services” have been expanded, slightly, but only to a select few very attractive clients. And yes, that includes Marcia and Michelle.