Last Resort

My wife and I were recently on a business/vacation trip in Arizona. We were staying at a lovely resort with a first class spa, where she and I scheduled massages on the second day there, at different times because of a business meeting I had to attend.

I arrived at the spa, checked in at the desk, was escorted to the locker room, and given my sandals, robe, and key. Now, this was a very classy joint. With the addition of a TV and cot, I would have been happy to move into that locker room permanently. As far as I could tell, nearly every human need was met by the staff and services.

I got naked, put on my robe and sandals, locked my locker, and went to wait in the co-ed waiting area (I could have waited in the men's only area. Are they kidding or what?). Nice comfy chairs and couches, fruit all around, water and coffee machines (you don't want to know what happens to me if I drink coffee just before a massage). There were a few other folks waiting their turn, all women I might add.

In a few minutes, a black uniformed therapist with a perfect body came to get me. She introduced herself as Natasha (yes, Natasha is her real name, and I doubt that she moonlights as an exotic dancer). She gave me a big smile. Well, that's not exactly true. She gave me a smile that made me wish I had brought my sunglasses. I was immediately smitten. This is NOT a good thing, being turned on by your massage therapist, just before going for your massage. But I'm not exactly a novice, and I was sure I could control myself.

We entered the room. Natasha explained the drill and left the room. I removed my sandals and robe, got under the cover face down, and waited for her knock. She entered, asked me if there were any body areas that needed particular attention. You know what I wanted to say, but what I did say was NO, I just need a nice relaxing massage.

Natasha began with my back. She had magic hands. I've had many massages, and this one was shaping up to be one of the best. I worked hard at two things: relaxing, and trying to get Natasha's hot body and smile out of my mind. I succeeded at one of them.

Natasha gave me the usual treatment, back, arms, hands, feet, legs.

The trouble began when she uncovered one leg, and started kneading my thigh. I immediately began to get hard. This is NOT a good thing during a therapeutic massage. My cock was pointing down toward my feet, and it was a bit painful to be hard and bent like that. I tried everything to divert my engorged blood, thinking,

"My taxes are due soon, I have to recaulk the shower when we get home, how about those Red Sox, what is the meaning of life?",

but nothing worked. I remained hard, and the more I willed it away, the harder it got.

Then Natasha began to work on my other leg. As she rolled the sheet up and pressed it between my legs, I knew she couldn't actually see my erection, but that was small comfort. She began her full leg massage, and as she reached my upper thigh, one of her fingers grazed my cock. Well, you know how you feel when you've just jumped out of an airplane, and your parachute won't open? My entire life passed before my closed eyes in about 1 second.

My immediate inclination was to go into a song and dance about how I'm terribly sorry, and this has never happened to me before, and yadda, yadda, yadda. But, and I really don't know why, I said absolutely nothing. And you know what? Neither did she! She knew that I knew that she knew that I knew, but she just kept on working with no hesitation at all. In fact, on the third time up my thigh, she grazed me again, only this time it was more of a light stroke, as though (I must be dreaming) she did it on purpose!

Naturally, I gave up thinking about taxes, and concentrated on her touch, and what it meant. She finished my leg and foot, covered me again, went to the head of the table, and began to work on my back again, but this time as her hands pushed down my back, they just continued to my ass cheeks, and as she bent over my back, her hands continued down my thighs with her thumbs sliding down between my legs. She didn't touch my cock, but she came very close, and my hard-on got harder still.

I involuntarily lifted my butt to relieve the strain, but she pushed me right back down. Now I knew there was something more going on than just a massage. She did that back/buttocks/thigh trick twice more, each time driving her thumbs closer to my cock, but never touching it.

"OK, Mr. Parker, it's time to turn over."

She lifted the sheet and turned her head away. As soon as I lifted myself to turn over, my cock sprung like a jack-in-the box. I laid down on my back, and she put the sheet back over me. It must have been a funny sight, a big tent in the middle of the sheet, particularly since it was a throbbing tent.

Neither of us said a word as Natasha resumed her "therapeutic" massage. She put a Yoga eye pillow over my eyes, leaving me in complete darkness, which enhanced the effect. She worked on my face, my chest, my arms, etc., and if she noticed the tent (IF?), she didn't let on, even though I was arching my back involuntarily.

Abruptly, Natasha ceased her massage and began to run her finger nails over my entire body (through the sheet), including, seemingly by accident, my cock. My arching increased. Neither of us said a thing.

She continued for a couple of minutes, then stopped. I could hear her moving. She moved to the base of the table, and began to roll the sheet up toward my head, slowly and deliberately. When she got to my upper thighs, she didn't hesitate a bit, she just continued to roll until my cock came into view, harder than ever. She let the sheet come to rest in the middle of my stomach.

I didn't know what to expect next, but I knew it would be incredible. She took hold of my cock gently. Her hand was slick with oil. She started to stroke me. I started to arch, but she emphatically pushed my hips down, making it clear that she did NOT want me to move a muscle. Her stroke was masterful. Slowly up and down, then in a circular motion around my glans, then massaging my balls and lower cock, then more up and down. I'm not a believer, but at that moment I was praising the Lord.

Then she removed her hand. Since I had the eye pillow on, I could not see a thing, nor did I want to. But I could hear the rustle of clothing, and the patter of bare feet.

Next thing I knew, Natasha had climbed on top of me. I could feel her bare legs squeezing my sides, so I knew she was facing toward me. I was unable at that point to tell what, if anything, she was wearing, except her legs were definitely naked.

She stayed up on her knees, legs tightly grasping me, and started rubbing my chest, pushing her hands up toward my face. She lowered her upper body on to my chest. She was wearing her shirt. I was a bit disappointed, but not for long. I could actually feel her peaked nipples through the slick texture of her uniform. I surmised she was not wearing a bra.

She brought her lips to mine, and gave me a deep tongue kiss that lasted forever. I still didn't know exactly how far this was going, so I prayed. She raised her upper body away from me, then lowered herself again and kissed me longer and harder, her tongue thrusting sweetly. She did that one more time, her breathing shallow, her lips conveying an erotic fervor that made me tingle.

At last she sat back up and stayed there. She remained still for what seemed like forever, then I felt her hand reach below her and grab my cock. She pushed it straight up, and lowered her body.

She was NAKED FROM THE WAIST DOWN. Holy mother of the Universe! Her velvet skin felt overheated against mine. She continued to lower herself until I felt her wetness touch the tip of my cock. And she was shaved, so that I could actually feel the shape and texture of her wet slippery vulva.

I had never before been with a shaved woman. The thought crossed my mind that unshaved vs. shaved is not unlike condom vs. no condom. The feel of a hot wet cunt directly stimulating a hard throbbing cock, with no nest of downy curls in between, is indescribable bliss.

She rubbed her clit against the tip of my rock hard cock, then slid her labia along the length. I was so turned on that I forgot the prohibition against moving, and I tried to arch so I could enter her. She immediately leaped off the table, and with her hands pushed down hard on my hips. I laid there in agony for about a half minute, but I surely got the message.

She got back on the table, again on her knees. I knew what hovered just above me, and I wanted it so badly, but I remained as still as still can be. She slowly lowered herself again, and this time, instead of rubbing her labia along my shaft, she held my cock in her hand and made the cock do the work of stimulating her clit.

I was beginning to get dizzy with excitement. I clenched the sides of the table to prevent any movement on my part. She continued to rub her clit with my cock, holding the shaft in a tight grip. I could hear her breathing getting faster, and feel her legs grabbing my sides more intensely.

She seemed to love the feel of my cock slip-sliding over her clit, and I was not going to argue with that strategy. She kept it up for a very long time, increasing her breathing ever more, occasionally letting out a sigh, or a groan.

She stopped with her pussy directly over my cock head, and began to lower herself on to me, ever so slowly. I couldn't help myself, and I let out a groan. She immediately slid up and off, put her hand tightly over my mouth, and held it there. Once again, I got the message.

She removed her hand and slowly eased herself on to me again. I mean, it took her a good 2 minutes to get from entry to full deep penetration. This woman was some sort of tantric sexual goddess! Once I was fully engulfed, and deep inside, she bent herself on to my chest, and just remained still, her mouth breathing hard into my ear, which she abruptly began to bite. Unbeknownst to her, this is one of my favorite turnons. I was finding it nearly impossible to remain still and quiet.

While nibbling my ear, she slid slowly up my cock, all the way to the tip, but with just enough of me still inside her so I would not pop out. Then down again, so slowly. Her breathing was heated and fast, my breathing was barely controllable. I was grasping the table hard, and gritting my teeth. If she had tried to kiss me using tongue, I probably would have bitten it off.

Up and down, for what seemed eternity. No sexual experience I had ever had came close to matching this one. And yet, I was able to hold back. I deeply wanted to prolong the pleasure for every additional second and minute.

Her breathing got very heavy now. I was squeezing my kegels with all my might. Her up and down motion got a bit faster, then a bit faster still. She stopped biting my ear, and lowered her head onto my shoulder. Her hard breathing was joined by moaning. I was going to have very sore kegels the next day, but hey, no pain no gain.

She moved faster still. Her hands reached up to push down on the top of my head. She began to whimper. Up and down, in and out, both of us in a state of exquisite torture. I could feel her chin pushing hard on my shoulder, and her hands pulling my head so hard I thought my neck would break.

I could feel the explosion rising in her, so I released my kegels. She moved faster still, and made a sound I'd never heard before, a combination of whimper, meow, squeal, and groan. She was on the verge, and so was I.

With a final downward motion, pushing her pussy tight against me, she let out a soft scream, her body shuddering, her chest heaving, her knees getting weak against my sides. I passed the point of no return, and rammed myself deeply into her. She let out another soft scream, and I began to squirt, and we both came. Her pussy walls pulsated around my cock, and I squirted what felt like a quart of cum. She let out several more soft screams, while she held my body in place with the strength of a lioness. She continued to cum, what must have been a second orgasm, and perhaps a third. I squirted throughout until I thought I was spent, but then I squeezed my tired kegels again, and was able to squirt some more. The tremors caused by the simultaneous climaxes lasted over a minute, which in orgasm years, is around a century.

When at last our breathing began to slow, she relaxed her full weight on top of me. I dared not say anything. She rested there for awhile, then lifted her upper body erect, still sitting on my shrinking cock. She slid slowly off, while I arched to keep her in as long as possible. She lifted herself off the table, and I could hear her wiping herself off, then she wiped me clean of juice and cum.

I could hear her getting dressed. Then she did the sweetest thing: she gently unrolled the crumpled sheet over me so that I was fully covered, and she caressed my leg from thigh to foot, then tweaked my big toe.

She said very softly, "Take your time, Mr. Parker. When you are ready, get dressed. I will be outside the door with some water and an apple for you. I hope you enjoyed your massage."

And she left the room.

I'd like to be able to tell you that I left my wife, and that Natasha and I went to Tuscany and fucked happily ever after. Alas, no. But I will likely spend the rest of my life looking for a sexual experience as acutely intense as the one I had with Natasha that day.