The Cure You Need

"Take off your clothes, put this towel across your middle, and lie down. Your masseuse will be here in just a couple of minutes," the manager said.

The room was nice: dimly lit, with a small fountain trickling on the table beside me that also held a sink, towels, and lotions. Gentle music played softly in the background. I folded my clothes neatly and placed them on the chair in the corner. I'd never had a massage before. Did she mean that I should take everything off? I wasn't sure, so I left my underwear on. The last thing I wanted to do was embarrass myself.

Minutes passed while I stared at the gray carpet through the head-shaped hole in the table, and then there was a soft knock on the door. It creaked open and a sweet voice said, "Hi, can I come in?"

"Please," I said.

"Hi, I'm Terry," she said. I could hear her fiddling around with the stuff on the table.

"Lee," I said.

"Is this your first time here, Lee?"

"It's my first time anywhere. I've never done this before."

"Oh, well welcome," Terry said. "What brings you in?"

"Lower back," I said.

"Well, we'll take good care of you," Terry said. I wanted to put a face to her voice, but I didn't know whether it was rude to look up so I kept staring through the hole. I heard lotion slipping between her palms as she rubbed them together, and then I smelled her perfume as she neared my head.

"This might be a little cold at first," she said, and she placed her slippery hands on my shoulders. She was right, but it felt good. Any touch would have felt good, but her hands were both soft and strong. Her fingers dug into my muscles. "You're a mess," she said.

"You're all knotted up."

The sensation whipped back and forth between pain and ecstasy as she worked each individual muscle in my shoulders. When she asked if she was pushing too hard I lied and said no, afraid she would stop. She worked her way lower, her stomach pressing against the top of my head. I felt a tingling in my crotch that didn't make much sense. Since when is head to stomach contact erotic? Maybe it was just that she was touching me, or that I was almost naked and she was fully clothed. I don't know. I was just grateful that I was face down so that she couldn't see what was happening to me.

Her hands moved even further downward, fingertips brushing the edge of the towel that covered my ass. "You said your lower back is giving you problems?" she asked.

"That's right," I said.

"Okay, then I'm going to move down to your legs. We'll save your lower back for last."

Her slippery hands slid their way back up my naked back and the heavenly stomach left my head. I heard her grab the lotion dispenser from the table, and then I felt the cool liquid running down my legs.

"I feel like a hot dog," I said.

"How'd you know I just covered you in mustard?" Terry laughed. She massaged the lotion into my feet and my calves, worked her way up to my thighs. The closer she came to the towel, the more my cock twitched. Now I was really glad that I left my underwear on. I'm a heavy precummer. The last thing I wanted was to leave a stain on the table and embarrass myself.

Terry grabbed for the towel, and I reflexively grabbed back and held it in place. "What are you doing?" I said.

"I can't work your lower back with this towel in the way," Terry said.

"Why not?"

"Your muscles don't stop at your waistline. Everything is interconnected," she said, and she tugged on the towel again. I tugged back. "Is there a problem?"

"Nobody told me about this," I said. "I left my underwear on."

"I'm a big girl," Terry said. "I've seen underwear before."

"I don't think you have," I said. "Could you just give me a minute?"

"Honey, there's nothing I haven't seen. Don't worry about it," Terry said, and she yanked my towel away. "Oh. Okay. That's okay," she said. I imagined the dim light shimmering across my white satin fullback panties. I'm glad my face was buried in the table's head hole so that she couldn't see the look of shame and terror in my eyes.

She hooked a fingertip into the elastic waistband along each of my hips and slid my panties down to the middle of my ass. Her strong hands squeezed my glutes and worked them upward, toward my spine. Thumbs dug for knots and other signs of tension, fingers worked along my spine as if she were playing it like a flute. My humiliation gave way to relaxation as I realized that Terry wasn't judging me. She was a professional who was just doing her job.

For the next ten minutes she worked on my back, humming softly. Occasionally she would run her flat palm across my satin panties as she made her way from back to thigh. "I had a boyfriend in college who had similar tastes in fashion," she said. "That's been a long time. Don't ask me how long," she laughed.

"Please. I'm really embarrassed," I said.

"Don't be. They should've told you to remove all of your clothes. You know, that same boyfriend also had lower back troubles. There's a nerve that runs—well, I can show you if you'll let me. Everything is interconnected, you know. It really helped him when I'd work that area," she said.

"You're the professional," I said.

I can't prove it, but I swear I heard her smile. She stood and retrieved something from the table, and then she pushed my panties down just past my cheeks. Warm oil trickled down my ass. She massaged it into my bare cheeks and then slid her fingers along my crack. When she found my hole a shock shot through my entire body. I clinched and gasped. "Just relax," she said. "I can't get to the nerve from the outside. When you feel pressure, push against me. If there's any discomfort let me know."

She tickled my hole with her fingertip, pressing lightly against my opening again and again until I dug my elbows into the table and rose up to meet her hand. There I was, on my hands and knees with my panties around my thighs and an anonymous stranger's finger inside of me.

I rocked against her hand as she worked her finger in and out, and then I felt another finger pressing against my opening. It slid in easily. Terry worked her two fingers back and forth, pressing against what must have been the nerve blocked inside of me. Each time her fingers touched that spot it felt...odd. Not exactly hot, but sort of. Not exactly electrical. I couldn't describe it, but apparently she knew what I was thinking.

"You might feel like you have to tinkle. Don't worry, you won't, or if you do it will just be a couple of drops. Just relax into it," she said.

"More," I managed to say.

"Pardon?"

"Can you do more?"

"What do you mean?"

"Fingers," I said.

"I wasn't sure where you were going with that," Terry chuckled. She eased her fingers free. More oil trickled down my crack, and then I felt her hand pushing against me. "Tell me if this is too much. Hurting you isn't going to help your back," she said.

I pushed back against her hand, felt my ass stretch to accommodate her fingers. I wanted to touch myself, but I was afraid that if I did she would stop what she was doing. Instead, I reached down and pulled my panties up as far as I could without getting in her way. My cock slid against the silky fabric as she rubbed that magical spot inside of me.

"I'm going to go a little faster," Terry said. "Remember: You might feel like you have to tinkle, but just go with the feeling. Relax into it and we'll get you unblocked." I grabbed the edges of the table and pushed against her hand, trying to get as much of her inside me as I could. She quickened her pace and the feeling built inside of me. I relaxed into it, just like she said, and streams of warm cum erupted into my white panties. I had never ejaculated so much, and never without having my cock touched.

She removed her fingers and pressed gently on my bottom, silently urging me to lie back down. I heard the water running in the sink, and then she cleaned up my back with a hot towel, never turning me over. The mess in my panties was my own problem.

"Unblocked?" she asked.

"I'd say so," I said.

"Well good. I hope you'll come back and visit us," Terry said. "And don't be so shy next time. I'm a big girl, I've been around. I know the cure you need."

The door closed behind her, and she was gone. I never saw her face.