Massage Parlour

I had told her we were going to the swinger's club. She gave me the eye, and then began to get ready. My wife has curly, blonde hair that is just long enough to pin up in a roll, at the back of her head, accentuating her slender neck; or long enough to come just to her shoulders. Tonight, she decided to wear it down.

She put on her short, blue cocktail dress. It had spaghetti straps and it gathered just below her breasts, from which it hung free to about mid thigh. No bra, her only underwear was a matching blue thong. She chose not to wear stockings, completing her attire with a pair of white pumps. For jewellery, she wore pearls, pearl earrings, ring with pearl setting, and an interesting pearl necklace. It circled her neck, close as a choker, with an additional string that hung from her throat to just between her breasts. It had an oversized pearl at the end of this string, like a pendant.

"That's a new necklace, isn't it?" I asked.

"Yes, do you like it?"

"I do! It's different."

"Maybe I'll have some pearl jam to play with before the evening's over." she said, grinning mischievously.

As I drove, we smoked and she played with her little vibrator. She got all glassy eyed, and I watched as her legs spread wider and she slumped in her seat. Her breathing slowed as she would hold her breath, feeling the sensations, and then exhale with growing passion. Soon, she was pursing her lips. Occasionally, the tip of her tongue would emerge to moisten her lips. Finally, the quiet moans began.

"Try to hold it." I said. "Try not to come, yet."

She turned her head to look at me with hooded eyes. "I love this feeling!" she said.

I smiled at her.

"O.K., I'll try." She shuddered, and took her vibrator away from herself. She used her other hand to rub her pussy, and she stretched a great stretch with her whole body. The sight of her self-stimulation, here in the car, was like taking a shot of instant lust, and it caused me to stretch, too. I suddenly realized my cock was hard, throbbing, and would soon needed some rubbing. She smiled at me, and put her vibrator back between her legs.

I pulled off the street and into a parking lot into a strip shopping center that had a collection of stores that sold adult merchandise including toys, books, tapes, and club wear. One of the stores was a massage parlor. As we pulled into the light from the storefronts, my wife took her hand from between her legs and pulled her skirt down.

She sat up and looked around. "What are we doing here?" she asked.

"Oh, I just wanted to make a stop on the way. Come with me."

I got out of the car and went around to open her door. She spread her legs wide giving me a great beaver shot as I helped her out. I walked her over to the Massage Parlor, and opened the door.

As we stepped in, the night manager greeted me by name and shook my hand, and then my wife's as I introduced them. She walked us down a hall and into a room that was outfitted with a large, wide couch, a circle shaped platform bed, and waist high, padded bench along one wall. There was a small, clean lavatory in one corner. The walls were painted in a soft peach color, and there was lush carpeting on the floors.

"So, when have you been here before?" my wife asked. I could tell by her tone that she thought I might have been a customer here before; and that she wouldn't have liked that.

"The first time I was here was just last week." I said.

We were interrupted by a knock at the door. When it opened, a young woman entered and closed the door. She was dressed in a short, silky robe, and black high heels. She was pretty enough. It was her confident manner that was arresting in this situation. She took over.

"Hi, is this your wife? You were right when you said she was really pretty!"

As I took a seat on the couch, she stepped over to my wife.

"Just what's going on here?" my wife demanded.

The young woman wasn't flustered as she explained, " Your husband visited us last week to see if we could help him to arrange a surprise for you. You see I'm a massage therapist. Mostly, I work with men. But, I'd like to work with women, too. Women generally don't come here. So when your husband talked to the manager about surprising you, they thought I'd be the right girl." She moved behind my wife and put her arms around her, hugging her. "I hope you like me."

I looked into my wife's face to see the surprise, and then the heat as the young masseuse held her. Her face grew bright red. "You rat!" she said quietly. But she wasn't mad at me. And that was the last time either of them paid attention to me for sometime thereafter.

My wife went into a kind of trance as the young woman hugged her and began to caress her. I noticed the hem of her skirt vibrating like a tuning fork. She must have been trying to hold herself still, impossibly still. Her entire body was shaking with the feelings that were starting to course through her. She was breathing deeply and strenuously and her mouth never closed, as though she wouldn't get enough air if it did. Her head tilted back onto the masseuse's shoulder in surrender.

The masseuse, still behind her, slowly pushed her hands down the front of my wife's body until they were touching her thighs below the hem of the skirt. Slowly, she drew them back up, lifting the hem as she went and using her nails to lightly scratch the skin she was baring.

The tremble grew more aggravated and visible as my wife began to make a quiet, keening moan. When the masseuse had her skirt well above her hips, she gathered it under one arm, still hugged around my wife's waist. My wife's loins were now deliciously bared and wonderfully contrasted by the tiny blue thong that girdled her. With the other hand, the masseuse rubbed my wife's tummy in a circular motion, gradually widening the circles until her fingertip slid under the waistband of the thong. I saw that little pouch that cups her vulva expand as the masseuse's fingers reached in to touch the pussy inside.

The masseuse moved her other hand to join the first, sliding them under the thong, taking time to lingeringly touch, moving from front to back, caressing that sweet womanly bottom, and from inside the thong, began to push it down and over my wife's hips and thighs and down her legs, all the while rubbing, sensuously rubbing and touching the naked flesh as she moved the thong down thighs, and trembling knees, stiffening calves, as my wife stood on tip toes in her high heels; and then ankles and feet, one by one. It was a masterstroke, and watching my wife tremble through it made me rigid with sexual intensity.

The masseuse rose to take her place behind my wife again and hugged her like she loved her. My wife was leaned back into the masseuse's embrace. Her thighs were closed and rubbing against each other. I don't think the masseuse could get more than one finger in to do its rubbing. "Open your legs for me, Sweetie." She said.

My wife stood away for a moment, catching her balance, and looked over her shoulder to see the masseuse's face. She sighed, and spread her legs. This afforded the masseuse more room to work with, and she squeezed that pussy, and then began to rub it gently with her three middle fingers. My wife moaned low, and held the masseuse's arm, hugged around her waist. She began to bend her knees and move in a fucking rhythm with her torso to the gentle rubs of the hand between her legs.

It was like a dance, and watching them was so stimulating, so lustful. It was like the masseuse was fucking her from behind as they moved together. Occasionally, my wife would bend at the waist, and moan as her head rolled forward, feeling the sensation of a well-placed rub.

Slowly, the spaghetti straps on her dress worked their way over her shoulders and down her arms. The masseuse rubbed her hand up from my wife's waist, over her breasts still rubbing and up until her hand was about her throat, my wife's chin resting on it.

The masseuse gently pushed my wife's head back, held it on her shoulder, and began to kiss and lick her ear, and the sensitive part of her neck just under. My wife squealed, and began to writhe between that sucking mouth on her neck and the probing fingers in her vulva, hips working like she was fucking, driving herself even more into the masseuse's embrace.

The masseuse has my wife's ear in her teeth, not biting, not releasing. She drew her hand from my wife's throat to push down the top of the dress, exposing the beautiful orbs of her breasts, nipples blood red and rigid with stimulation.

Now the masseuse released her ear and just hugged her powerfully, hand to breast, torso to torso, fingers working rapidly between her thighs, fucking with the pussy, I watched as my wife surrendered and groaned out a powerful orgasm, thrusting, mewling, and sighing great groans of relief.

As she quieted, they stood in position, body to body, for a timeless moment, both panting and heaving great inhales to catch their breath. They were both damp with a fine sheen of intense physical exertion, which I could smell along with the musky odor of female sexual emission. I knew that both their pussies were wet. And their eyes held a look of insatiate hunger.

And there she stood, my wife, her dress above her hips and her top down, all female desire and carnal as a woman can be. I never loved her more, or wanted her more. But I held my position on the couch, overwhelmed by what I had witnessed and waiting to see what would come next. The faintest of smiles was on her face as she turned in the masseuse's arms to come about face to face. And she kissed her, and as she did, their arms came round about each other and the kiss became a devouring rain of kisses. Mouth kisses, face kisses, hugs, hands exploring, thighs between each other's thighs, they gave in to a primal woman thing that, as a man, I felt in awe to witness.

And, so I watched quietly. I had to rub myself, but I didn't even expose myself, just wanting to be there, and be unobtrusive. I can still remember looking at her from behind, my wife, naked from shoulders to waist where her blue dress gathered, her most perfect feminine ass exposed, with long legs bare to her high heels. One leg was straight, foot on the ground, as the other leg, bent at the knee, reached to probe between the masseuse's thighs, while the masseuse's hand probed between those milk-white cheeks. I fell in love-lust with her all over again, and marveled at the over-the-top experience of making her wild beyond thinking about it.

My reverie was broken when I heard the masseuse say, " What's this you're wearing honey?"

"It's my new necklace. I just got it!" my wife said.

"I like it! I wonder if this dangly thing unclips from the choker part. Let me see. Yeah, it unclips, all right. I want to use this! Can I use this?"

"How are you going to use it?"

"You'll see. I like your choker. Do you like wearing a choker, coming to see me?"

My wife paused for a moment before answering, appraising her response, "Yes I do."

She held on with her arms around the masseuse's neck as the masseuse brought the pearl chain that had hung from her choker around to hang between the cheeks of her derriere. With the other hand she reached between my wife's thighs from the front to grasp the other end. She began to pull it slowly back and forth into the sexy cleft between my wife's thighs. I could imagine that as she did the pearls became a wet, slippery snake riding back and forth, the bumps rubbing against her sexy lips and clitoris. The masseuse was so good as she did this very gently, yet firmly, slow and patient.

She was rewarded with a keening moan as my wife hung on for dear life. Her face, turned partially toward mine as she laid it against the masseuse's chest showed the agony she felt, the agony of pleasure as she wriggled her hips to catch the good parts as they went sliding through. As they grew more confident in their technique, both women intensified their mutual undulations of the necklace fuck. As the necklace slid up and down between my wife's ass-cheeks, it left a trail of shiny, white pussy emissions, and her keening moans began to change in pitch and urgency.

Suddenly the masseuse stopped her necklace rubs! "Not yet sweetheart."

My wife groaned in frustration at being interrupted from her imminent release. I knew from experience that this would only fuel her to greater intensity when the masseuse granted her desires.

"Come on over here to the bed. I want to lay down with you." The masseuse drew my wife to the circular, platform bed, just taking a moment to whip her dress off her body before laying that lovely naked woman before her. With no hesitation, my wife bent her knees and spread her legs, gazing with eyes half closed with lust to see what would happen to her next.

The masseuse crawled onto the bed between her spread thighs to gaze for the first time on the puffy, wet, sexy vagina she had been caressing. "Ohh, baby, you are a beautiful little, sexy cunt! Did you know that?" My wife doesn't like that word, but you wouldn't know it from the way she glowed at the lewd compliment. The masseuse began to kiss her vaginal lips. She kissed them and kissed them several times before venturing the least little bit of tongue.

My wife sighed and breathed deeply, trying to hold herself still. But her head would jerk up from time to time, suddenly, in response to the kissy, licking sensations, and she would try to see what was happening, before falling back in a swooning reverie. Occasionally she would attempt to close her thighs on the head between them, trying to trap the face there and hold it just so; but the masseuse just pushed back on her thighs, holding her spread, and continued to feast, hungrily.

More and more, now, the masseuse licked her deeply and rapidly, with a purpose, causing my wife's hips to rise and fall with jerky pelvic thrusts. When she was sufficiently licked wet, the masseuse took her face away only to be rewarded with another groan of frustration.

"Don't worry. Baby. The best is yet to come." The masseuse then brought out the dangly pearl strand she had kept in her hand, and smiling, began to tease my wife's vagina mouth with the oversized pearl on the end. My wife had a look on her face of captivation and surrender. She grasped both her knees with her hands to spread herself even wider.

The masseuse rubbed that large pearl around the opening to her vaginal mouth, wetting it and using it to tease the lips.

"OOOHHH!"

Then, using two long middle fingers, she pushed the large pearl into the hungry little mouth very slowly, patiently, penetrating as far as her fingers would reach.

"OOOOOHHHHH!"

She withdrew her fingers slowly, caressing the sensitive labia. She took up about three more inches of the strand with her fingertips and stuffed these into the wet opening as deeply as she could reach.

"OOOOOOOHHHHHHH!"

Again she withdrew lovingly, every rub making my wife's pussy weep even more, caused her to sigh deeply, raggedly. She gathered another three inches and again, with just her fingertips, pushed slowly, savoring the trembling response that shuddered through my wife's torso, even though she was trying to lie still.

"OOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHH!" she moaned, her head rolling from side to side, eyes clenched closed, able to accept sensation from only one place for the moment, being touched.

The masseuse smiled at the response she was causing, and looked upon her handiwork. Only two or three pearls remained in view, dangling and white, in stark contrast to the darkly blushing, puffy, oozing womanhood.

The masseuse used her thumb to gently start to rub circles around the engorged clitoris. Again she was incredibly patient, languorous and unhurried. But my wife reacted hugely. Her body stretched and spasmed, her torso writhing with fucking motions.

"OOOOHHHH, God! Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! Don't stop what you're doing!"

"Baby likes me to touch her, doesn't she?"

"OOOOHHHH! Don't stop!"

"Have to if I want to do what comes next." And she stopped. She was enjoying being the torturer.

My wife was panting deeply. She looked at the masseuse and said, "You have got to finish me." She placed her hands on either side of her dripping pussy, and looked down between her legs to see the pearls. She didn't touch herself there, but just pushed up and down on both sides so the lips would close on those beads and rub against them. "OOOOHHH, this feels good. I love it...love feeling like this!" She looked back at the masseuse with lust-tortured eyes and said, "I'll bet it tastes good, too."

She was offering herself in the most sluttish way. The masseuse smiled like a cat and went with the tip of her tongue to lick at the free flowing cream. My wife smiled and said, "Lick me. Lick that pussy!"

"I'm going to lick it, for sure. Now, I want you to squeeze down hard with your sexy muscles, and try to hold onto your pearls, because I'm going to get them all if I can. You understand?" My wife looked at her, and nodded in comprehension.

The masseuse wrapped her arms under and around my wife's legs, holding her spread. She sucked the three pearls into her mouth as she laid her tongue broadly into the pussy, and then used her tongue to swirl the beads against and around the clitoris. She was rewarded with a gentle pelvic thrusting from my wife, working to maximize her contact with that sucking mouth, and the bumpy beads. I watched as she began to lick faster, and faster, applying increasing pressure, determined to bring my wife quickly to the edge of orgasm.

My wife responded with a quickening of her pelvic thrusts and a high-pitched moan. She started to spasm, and as she did, the masseuse pulled her face away with the end of the beads in her teeth, and quickly popped three or four pearls out. My wife shrieked.

The masseuse immediately returned her devouring mouth, rapidly and intensely pressuring pearls to pussy. She wouldn't let her calm down. My wife shrieked again, and her hands knotted themselves into the sheets as she cried out, spasming and squeezing, trying to hold onto her pearls. Again, the masseuse pulled with her teeth dragging more pearls out, popping, and popping!

My wife was like a crazy woman as she went over the top into orgasm. Suddenly she curled forward from the waist up, her tummy muscles rigid, "Fuck, FUCK, FUCKIT!"

The masseuse pulled hard one last time as she dragging out the rest of the pearls, the final large one held by that clenching, cumming pussy for one long moment before it popped out!

"AAAAAHHHH! AAAAAAAHHHHHH! AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!"

Still, the masseuse wouldn't let her come down, fucking two, then three fingers deep into my wife's pussy and sucking the clit so hard I thought it would hurt her. But my wife just grabbed the masseuse's head and held that mouth tight to her pussy, riding that face, thrusting and whipping on that mouth and those fingers until her orgasm had ridden completely through her. When she finished she seemed to faint, the tension leaving her in a panting, insensate swoon.

The masseuse gazed on her work with a look of adoration and satisfaction. She gently caressed my wife's tummy, pussy and thighs with a little goodbye touch before working her arms loose to move away. She went to the bathroom in the corner. I heard the water run for a few minutes, and when she came out; she was wiping her face with a towel. She looked at me with an amused look on her face and asked me, "Was that what you wanted? Was that how you thought it would be?"

"A hundred times better!" I said. I walked her to the door, and gave her a special tip. She thanked me, and as she went out and she said, "Take your time."

The door closed, and I heard my wife say, "Come here."

I went to the bed and lay next to her.