The Masseuse (Part III)

If they both knew how much they’d be internally screaming out with need for an orgasm, they would never have denied themselves throughout November. It seems foolish now to have passed on the opportunity to masturbate when these skilled hands tormented them beyond reason.

The man’s entire body was already tingling with anticipation when he had first arrived; his mind was too focused on the pleasure to come to pay much attention to the second massage table in the room. He was asked to undress and lie on his back. The moment he stripped and laid down, the masseuse instantly returned and began caressing his upper body. His lower body remained covered by a towel. Even though the masseuse’s warm, oil-coated hands massaged only his shoulders and chest, his length instantly began to stir. The month of abstinence – two months total without a full orgasm – meant that all he could think of was the masseuse’s hands reaching under to stroke his cock. Just thinking of her stroking him, sucking him and riding him instantly sent a surge through to his manhood. He wanted her to whisper to him that she was going to fuck him, to impale herself on him, that knowing how desperate to come he was made her wet just thinking about, and how it aroused her to fuck men in this state.

Instead of fulfilling his fantasies right away, the masseuse simply continued to massage him wordlessly. Even the previous sexual audio, which filled the room with moans and cries of ecstasy, was absent.

Just as he began to wonder why things were so different and why the masseuse’s previous accomplice wasn’t present, another person entered the room, followed by the accomplice.

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The Masseuse (Part II)

(Part I)

If she knew how much she’d be internally screaming out with need for an orgasm, she’d have never denied herself for so long.

She had often enjoyed the sensuality of her monthly full-body massage. While she always felt that her masseuse lingered on her inner thighs more than necessary, there was nothing overtly sexual about the experience. What was apparent, however, was that after every massage, she had a great need to masturbate once she returned home. She always abstained from playing with herself for a few days before her massage, enjoying the heightened sensitivity and where her imagination led her following the massage. This time she had decided to test herself and abstain for the entire month. Having not touched herself intimately between her last massage and this one, she was already in a hyper-sexual state of mind before even lying down on the table.

Covered in only a towel, she was aware of how little her body was concealed from the two women who walked into the room. The masseuse and her female accomplice -introduced as a trainee – began massaging her back. The second woman’s wonderfully soft, warm hands ran across her shoulders while the masseuse focused on her legs. Folding the towel down inch by inch, the trainee was free to press along more of her back. It would have had her imagination on fire to have been focusing on how this newcomer’s fingertips were grazing so close to the sides of her breasts, squished against the padded table. What instead drew her attention was how the masseuse’s hands were gliding up her legs so brazenly. The masseuse’s hands slid from feet to ankles to upper thighs and buttocks in one direct motion, instantly pushing the towel up so that it barely concealed her intimacy. A mixture of shyness and arousal coursed through the silent woman. Feeling a little cool air between her legs, she closed them, knowing that the masseuse positioned at the foot of the massage table would be able to sneak a peek at her privacy if so inclined. She was unable to conceal a gasp as the masseuse suddenly gripped her ankles and pulled her legs back apart.

Continue reading The Masseuse (Part II)

Just close your eyes and imagine it. Every inch of your body explored until the lingering touches focus on those more delicate little areas, until those mouths press longingly against the little parts that make you shiver.

Just think of the sensation as each tongue worked in unison to bring you closer and closer. With your eyes closed, picturing the scene. You can almost feel how your hips would rock against such tantalisation, how your toes would curl, how your fingers would clench, trying to stay grounded against the weightlessness, the fluttering sensations that take hold. No matter how long you tease yourself with that image, it will remain with you throughout the entire day.

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The Masseuse

If he knew how much he’d be internally screaming out with need for an orgasm, he’d have never denied himself for so long.

Having abstained from masturbation, he had decided to book a massage to unwind with his long-time masseuse, though never had he expected it to become so sensual. She would massage his body with the most tender touches, her hands so attentive as they caressed his back, arms and shoulders before moving to his legs. When she had done this before, there was only the slightest hint of sexuality, the lightest touch a little closer under the towel than he’d expected. This time, however, it was as if she knew that he had abstained for weeks and wanted him to suffer.

He wasn’t surprised when he turned up and found the masseuse with a female accomplice; often, the pair massaged him together. What did surprise him, however, was that the trainee focused only on his upper body while his masseuse concentrated only on his lower body. It was clear right from the beginning that she intended to make life as difficult as possible, to set his imagination alight. Instantly she brushed her hands up under the towel, sweeping along his buttocks, then his inner thighs, just enough to have his mind’s eye focused on his manhood which she was so close to. Her hands crept further and further upwards with every movement as she stroked along his upper legs.

Continue reading The Masseuse

To say she was suffering would be quite the understatement. Having agreed to participate in the drug trial which promised to net her a tidy little sum of money for what seemed to be quite an erotic experience, she had no idea that it would become this torturous. 

While she fully understood that a drug would be administered to entirely debilitate her, rendering her unable to move, she did not expect this level of stimulation. When they had told her that they wanted to test her levels of sexual response while under the drug, she thought they’d meant some light touching and fondling for a few minutes; now that she’d been here for over an hour, she realised just how wrong she was.

Trapped within the near motionless prison that was her own body, she was only able to moan; no matter how much she tried, she could not scream out and beg for them to stop torturing her pussy with stimulation. Repeatedly the woman in charge of administering the stimulation finger-fucked her dripping wet opening and massaged her pulsating clitoris without relenting for even a moment. It hadn’t taken long for the tormented girl to realise that the drug not only inhibited any motion, it also prevented her from being able to climax. The rushing tide of orgasm seemed to ceaselessly push against the barriers of her sexual need for release to no avail, just constantly building without respite, making her body and mind feel ready to explode, unable to cope nor control it. 

The test would be over once the drug wore off, which would be when her orgasm could finally tear free from the shackles of her drug-induced denial. It would be an orgasm that, once it arrived, would be enough to make her pass out, though sadly for her, it would be nearly another hour of tortured longing before such wonderful, much needed release.

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Image source from: Hegre

Endurance Massage

He’d experienced so many massages by skilled female hands before, however he never expected this masseuse would take so much joy in her work. The ‘endurance massage’ sounded intriguing, he had wanted to feel something different, something beyond the typical body rub and happy ending. After lying down on the table and having half hour spent with his naked body massaged in the warm glow of candle-lights, he wondered how this was any different to any other full body erotic massage. Once he felt cuffs wrapping around his wrists and ankles, clicking into place and pulling him spread-eagled, he realised this was indeed going to be a new experience. 

Nearly an hour later and the slow, sensual and methodical attention of the masseuse had him on the verge and begging for release. She was a true master of her craft, keeping his length pulsating and throbbing with the hardest erection he’d ever felt, yet never doing enough to relieve the tension. The more it continued, the more he could feel how much she indulged in giving so much pleasure and frustration at once, how she could see, feel and control the effect she had. Any time he tried to speak, wanting to convey his need for more, she gently told him to remain silent, that when release finally came, it would be beyond anything he’d ever felt before. The perfect orgasm. 

As his body continued to tense in anticipation for something that the masseuse was holding back from him, he wondered just how much she expected him to be able to take. Just as he was about to ask her to please finish him off, she spoke…

“Wonderful. Just continue to relax as much as you can. I actually haven’t set the timer yet, I’ll set it now… One hour.”

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Image source from: Hegre

Gentle Hands

Whether a dream or reality, the outcome would be the same regardless. All you can focus on is the pleasure, that is all your world consists of right now. You want to open your eyes, but you are too relaxed to do so, your body is in the ultimate bliss of complete relaxation, a perfect position to easily be overcome. The hands caress you in every way you desire, focusing exactly on where you want them to touch. Intense enough to fulfil your every fantasy of being manhandled and dominated by multiple people, though gentle enough to make you want more and more, to keep you on that constant incline of arousal. 

They feel like every hand that has ever sexually caressed you, the hand of every person who has ever desired you, all just a little rougher than how you yourself would have played, making it all that much more erotic. Every pinch, every tweak and grasp, every poke and stroke, all managing to touch something much deeper than merely the surface of your body. Once they finally penetrate you, you feel like you have melted, a dripping wet mess of sensuality and lust. You feel every action as if it were in slow motion, dragging out every sensation until it is agonising in the most wonderful of ways. You feel every fold of your sex parting for those fingers, every nerve of your clitoris being set alight by those sweeping strokes.

Even though it had spent so long being built up, your orgasm feels like it won’t stop, all the while those hands play you so finely, like an instrument. You shiver and cry out in pleasure, clutching at one of the hands like it is a lifeline, though nothing stops. After so long, too long, you begin to come down from that vicious pleasure – though still nothing changes. Your body remains too relaxed to open your eyes, too much in a dreary haze to pull yourself from the grasps. As the hands continue to work you, exploring your pussy just as intently, you feel yourself becoming trapped between two minds; one wants it to keep going and never stop, the other knows that having more orgasms like that forced upon you would become torturous. With the way the hands have not stopped manipulating however, you won’t have a choice in the matter.

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Midnight Caress

Whispers of eroticism twisting through the night air; like a petal entwined in breeze, you writhe, lost in the mystical passions that threaten to consume you.

Neither asleep nor truly awake, you feel an embrace like no other, as if the atmosphere itself is lovingly caressing your body, keeping you held in its place. Not being fully awake, fear does not cloud the enchantment of sensuality your body possesses. The first ripples of movement around your body has it curious for more, as if the slightest sense of activity in the air sets your nerves alight.

The caressing movement of the sheets presses over your body as if they were the hands of a thousand masseurs exploring the contours of your female frame. Your body seems to burn with a need, yet there is no way of ever knowing whether time has passed in seconds or hours – every touch upon your body seems to linger for an eternity.

The embrace of the entity against your chest sends a warm surge down to your toes, instinctively your hands press to the sheets, clasping onto nothing but cotton yet still feeling as if all the hands in the world were focused on your body.

As your skin is exposed, the air itself seems to kiss every morsel of you, as if the sensual whispers were showing their appreciation. You writhe in agonised ecstasy as your breasts are caressed once again, every fibre of your sexuality being enticed effortlessly. The sheets embrace you ceaselessly, like a sea of pleasure washing over you, threatening to drown you. Unlike fingers, the motions wreaking havoc around your body feel like countless threads of silk twining around your skin.

The movements lead between your thighs, making your internal, sub-conscious voice cry out in bliss. The sheet envelops you, a mass of pleasure encasing you as you rock uncontrollably, feeling like the sensation of a hundred silky brushes rolling along the deepest sensitivities of your sex, all under the firm grasp of the sheet rocking against your womanhood.

You will not awake from this abyss of pleasure until the desires of the night are through with you; passing out, screaming out, shielding yourself – these are options beyond your control. You are merely the passenger, they shall drive you to the greatest heights of pleasure.

Without control, without respite, you moan into the eternity of the night.

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Image source from: The Toy Box