WHAT A TIRING day at the office! How you’ve looked forward to unwinding at your health club. Even as you ride the hot, uncomfortable subway, your mind is on the shower you’ll soon take, followed by a sauna where you’ll just lie for a while, as all the weariness ebbs from your body. Today you’re going to treat yourself to a massage—something you save for those special occasions, when you really need a pick-me-up.
At last you’re at the club. You book a mas sage, giving yourself an hour to get ready at a relaxed pace. There’s a new masseuse, In grid, a German girl. Well that’s fine, as long as she gives you a good, firm working over.
You shower and rest in the sauna and feel the-weariness leave your body. Lying there alone in the dry heat, you mentally take stock of yourself. Not bad, you think; medium breasts which are still quite firm with nipples that stand up at the slightest erotic thought, let alone touch. Flat stomach with hipbones that protrude in a rather sexy way. Your pubic hair is very thick—something that used to embarrass you until you dis covered how many men were turned on by it. You were lucky with your legs—even though you were close to forty, they were your pride and joy. Long and slim with no ugly veins. You were just drifting off to sleep when you hear your name being called. Massage time...
Almost reluctantly you shower again, afterwards wrapping yourself in a large terry cloth towel. Ingrid smiles shyly at you as if in introduction. You smile too and she somehow indicates that she speaks very little English. She leads you to a private cubicle and helps you up onto the table. She draws the curtains and you let your eyes close in anticipation of the delicious feeling you will receive as soon as Ingrid begins to manipulate your flesh.
You’re face down. Ingrid removes the towel. You wait for the sheet that normally is draped over the parts of your body not being massaged, but it never arrives. Well, you say to yourself, I guess this is the German way. There is a long pause and you get a tiny uneasy feeling—as if your body were being carefully scrutinized. But soon In grid’s strong hands are working on your shoulders and you cast out this silly notion.
She’s quite good at her job, and you relax as she works over your neck and arms and back. It’s delightful. Then you feel her hands on your buttocks. They move gently at first and then more firmly. You wonder if she isn’t spending too much time on them, but you dismiss this thought and just enjoy it. Every once in a while you feel her fingers just brush lightly between your cheeks and a tingle runs through you and then quickly vanishes. Now Ingrid is working on your legs. She works upward, starting with your toes, then instep, ankles, calves, and knees. She takes the tension out of your thighs with her strong hands. Then she does something you’ve never experienced in a mas sage—she places her hands on the insides of your thighs, rubbing first down and then up—over and over. You feel the tips of her fingers brushing your pubic hair.
Before you can protest, Ingrid is indicating that you should turn on your back. As you do, you open your eyes slightly and it seems to you that Ingrid’s face is somewhat flushed. Probably from exhaustion, you think, as you shut your eyes again.
She begins with your face and works quickly down to your neck and shoulders. Smoothing your shoulders and arms, she moves expertly and soon is massaging the sensitive skin alongside the outer part of your breasts. She takes some more of the cream she has been using and begins to make circles around your breasts with both her hands. You feel your nipples respond. You know how easily they do, but this once you wish they wouldn’t stand out so far and hard.
You take a peek at Ingrid who is very obviously and lustfully looking at your body. Your instinct is to jump off the massage table and run, but instead you decide to allow her to finish. If you can get through this without her knowing that you see how turned on she is, you’ll just never come back to her table. Finally, Ingrid moves her hands away from your breasts and continues downward. You are relieved but you have to admit that it felt good. You’re quite shaken at this discovery.
Before it can worry you more, you feel her working on your legs again, this time from the top—and again her hands are on the insides of your thighs, massaging firmly, and again her fingertips are brushing against your pubic hair. All at once you hear a slight moan escape your lips. You know she must have heard this, too, and again you want to run. But you just lie there mastered by her strong, insistent hands. Again you open your eyes slightly and catch a tiny smile crossing Ingrid’s lips. She knows you’re enjoying it.
For just a moment your eyes meet and then she moves her probing, ceaseless hands with even more vigor. Her fingers are brushing past your pubic hair and reaching lightly for your clitoris. It tautens immediately. You close your eyes, afraid to do anything. You feel your vagina moisten. Her fingers slip easily over your clitoris and into you. You sigh softly, and Ingrid’s strokes become steady and hypnotically exciting.
She spreads your legs by placing herself between them, making you totally vulnerable to her. You feel those fingers in and out and then you almost leap from the table as her tongue flicks over the tip of your clitoris. She licks you again and your body arches. She relaxes then into a rhythm that is completely new to you. Her tongue touches every part of your vagina—the clitoris, the outer lips, the inner lips, and then darts in and out of the opening. Over and over again she works away at you as you drift into a trance. Then she reaches up with her hands and begins to rub your breasts, all the while licking you. She sucks your juices and wets you again and again with her tongue. You feel yourself getting closer and closer to the climactic summit when she begins tongue-teasing you—slowing up until she makes you plead with your body for her to continue. You move your wet bush closer to her face and she responds, moving her tongue, harder and faster as she licks at all the right spots—her hands still moving in circles on your breasts. You feel yourself coming with such force that your body rises off the table.
Then it’s over. Ingrid is stroking your thighs gently and your body floats back. She places a cool sheet over you and tucks it in all around your body, from shoulders to toes, and you feel deliciously enveloped.
Before drifting off to sleep you look up. Ingrid smiles and asks in broken English, “Gut massage, no?” You smile back and say weakly, “Gut massage, yah!”