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Bob's Massage
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Bob was a financial analyst for a large downtown bank. He had
been having a lot of back and neck trouble lately, and one of his
colleagues had recommended he get a rubdown to reduce the
tension. His friend even gave Bob a card for a massage therapist
he had used.
Bob didn't think much of having someone pounding on his back, but
his pain wasn't getting any better, so he finally called the
therapist, whose name was Dorothy, and made an appointment to go
to her office. She had a small office in one of the towers. Bob
watched the street traffic through the window until the
receptionist called his name.
He was directed into a changing room, where he hung up his
business clothes, stripped down to undershorts and put on the
hospital-type smock that was lying over a chair. He opened the
door in the back of the changing area, and entered a surprisingly
well designed office. There was a large working desk with a
computer and phone and a comfortable leather high-back chair
dominating one corner of the office, while the massage table
stood off on the other side, a large padded and hinged affair
with a metal cabinet beside it.
Dorothy (he reminded himself of her name) rose from her desk as
he walked in and crossed to shake his hand. She was a smallish
woman in a white starched blouse, with dark eyes and brown hair
in a pageboy cut. She came up only to Bob's forehead, but her
muscular arms added to a commanding presence. "You won't be
using those shorts," she informed him, pointing at his groin,
"they get in the way." She pointedly turned his back and Bob
uncomfortably pulled his shorts off from under the smock. She
had him lie down on the massage table, opened the back of the
smock and flipped a towel over Bob's ass, relieving his
embarrassment. For the next few minutes she probed, squeezed and
manipulated every muscle he knew of from the base of his spine to
his neck, and several he hadn't known existed. During the
procedure, she poured some hot oil into her palms and used it in
the massage. Bob started to relax - he was beginning to see why
his friend had recommended the massage.
Dorothy worked on his spine and gradually broadened her range to
include his ass and the tops of his legs. Bob relaxed as the
warmth spread through his skin and body. He opened his eyes in
surprise when some of the hot oil dripped down between his ass
cheeks, then gasped as something was quickly popped into his ass.
"What the..." he began, but Dorothy silenced him with a curt
"It's part of the treatment. Don't argue."
She rolled him over onto his back, and his cock rose unbidden,
not just from the feeling of the butt plug in his ass. While he
had been face down Dorothy had removed her blouse and bra. She
was nude from the waist up, showing firm large tanned tits with
wide areolae and long nipples that begged to be sucked. She used
those tits now, drenching them in the hot oil and wrapping them
around his foot, massaging his legs. Her hair tickled his balls
when she was near the top of each leg. She moved around the
table and leaned over his head from behind, swabbing his cheeks
against her tits. He stuck out his tongue to catch a taste of
her, and she didn't tell him to stop.
She moved back to his legs, tugging them apart and using her
hands on the inner muscles. She had him bend his legs, knees in
the air as she probed and prodded his flesh. His cock lay heavy
and turgid on his stomach during all of this, jerking
occasionally as she pressed on a particularly poignant spot. It
came back to full erection (and Bob nearly jumped off the bench)
when she stuck her tongue out and made contact just below his
balls.
She took what looked like a small rubber ring and rolled it down
to the base of his cock, then blew on the head so it bobbed in
the air like a carnival balloon. Bob gritted his teeth at the
(not unpleasant) sensation, which was followed by the strange
feeling of Dorothy's tongue probing down between his thighs. He
held onto the edge of the massage table with his hands as her
tongue moved lower still, and he gasped as she moved the ass plug
slightly in and out.
Dorothy moved back to his head, sitting spread-legged above him
and lowering her moist hairy cleft onto his face. He got the
idea and started licking. She moved from side to side as he
worked his tongue from her clit to her pussy, and she stroked his
cock until he could feel it throbbing where the ring at the base
prevented anything from coming out. She held her cleft right
over his mouth for a minute, her thighs quivering, and as he
sucked on her clit she worked the ring off his cock. His
deprived balls exploded with a series of spasms that almost
wrenched his thigh muscles, hitting her face, her breasts, his
chest, the table, the floor, and who knew what else. Every time
he thought he was through, the feeling of the plug in his ass or
the smell of her pussy on his nose would trigger another cumshot.
Finally he slowed down to a few random dribbles.
Dorothy took a warm damp towel and cleaned off her tits, did the
same for his body and rolled him onto his side. She dribbled
warm oil onto him and rubbed it in from his neck to his toes,
paying particular attention to his balls and ass. She wiggled
the ass plug from side to side, then tugged on it and popped it
out quickly. Bob gasped at the sudden empty feeling, but
Dorothy's fingers were there to fill the void, probing, touching,
stretching. She pressed something that felt bigger than the plug
into his ass, and he rolled his hips to make room as she turned
and twisted the dildo. She moved it in and out as she stroked
his cock with a slick, knowing hand. Finally the probe hit a
sensitive spot and Bob came again, legs flopping wildly on the
bench as Dorothy aimed his cum into a small jar.
When his body quit jerking, she toweled the sweat off him and
rolled him onto his back. She rubbed his stomach muscles and
legs, pointedly leaving his groin area alone, and moved down his
legs to his feet. She poured some of his cum from the small jar
into her hands and used that as a lotion for Bob's feet, working
it in until his feet were slimy, sticky and slippery from the
combination of cum and sweat. Dorothy lifted his feet and,
holding one in each hand, used them to massage her proud breasts.
She pressed her nipples between his toes and treated the balls of
his feet as living vibrators, transferring their cum-lotion to
her tits as she rubbed them. Bob started getting aroused again
as she rubbed her hard breasts with his feet, and when he was
stiff enough Dorothy changed her position, riding him facing his
feet. She hunched up and down, her fingers finding erogenous
zones in his toes and feet, until she was bouncing hard and
started coming, her taut pussy squeezing his cock and milking a
last spurt or two from his overworked balls.
When she caught her breath, Dorothy brought out a warm damp cloth
and gave Bob a cleansing rub all over, then gave him a towel to
use before he got dressed. As he was taking a couple of
fifty-dollar bills out of his wallet, Bob decided that his job
was so stressful he might need a massage on a regular basis!
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