The Real Cure for a Migraine

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Exchange student gets more than she bargained for.
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lalilolly
lalilolly
11 Followers

Tag: Exchange student gets more than she bargained for from the local "masseur".

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Trudging up the long hill toward the house where she rents a room, the exchange student narrows her eyes at the acid-bright sky. The migraine that has lasted for days pulses at her temple. She is relieved that her day of classes at the university is done.

A block from her gate, an herbalist gazes out of his storefront. His white teeth gleam from the dimness within. He smiles out over the glass counter, asks how she is. A thick shock of black hair falls over his cheek. She responds that she has had a bad migraine for days, as she steps out of the sun onto the narrow tiles in front of his counter.

"A massage would help with that. I can give you a massage if you'd like" he said. As massage is common in her country. Her friends commonly traded massages, back home. She consents.

She enters the dim passageway, whitewashed. He meets her there and leads her to a small room, bare but for a heavy wooden table in the middle, a few chairs, a small, carved cross on the wall. She feels a hint of nervousness. The room is surprisingly cool, compared to the heat of the street.

He tells her to remove her shirt. She does, but leaves her bra on.

He motions for her to remove her bra. Embarrassment floods her, though this request does not surprise her. Massages are performed without clothing in her home country. She removes her bra.

He motions her to lie down. She does. The migraine pulses in her temple. She is hopeful that it will fade with the massage.

She closes her eyes. He strokes her temples, back and shoulders with firm, slow motions. Her migraine recedes somewhat with the dim light and firm, slow massage. She can hear his breath, and the soft shirring of his clothes as he moves around the table.

After a time, the herbalist clicks his tongue twice, gently lifts at her shoulder. She turns over, and lies face up on the table.

She briefly glances at his face, then closes her eyes and attempts to relax. The pulsing in her temple has markedly decreased. She thinks of her lover and wonders what he would think of her receiving a massage from the herbalist. He tends toward jealousy.

The herbalist strokes her abdomen, her shoulders, arms, then around the mounds of her breasts. Her nipples firm with the proximity of stimulation. He stops stroking her skin and remains still. After a span of silence, she opens her eyes. He is looking at her breasts, eyes locked on the hardened nipples. His black eyes briefly meet hers, and then he reaches out to pass his palms over her shoulders. She closes her eyes once more.

Suddenly, it occurs to her that she is laying on a dining room table in the herbalist's home. A shot of fear pulses through her body.

A sharp intake of breath, her whole body tenses as she feel a soft, wet warmth on her nipple. Her eyes open wide, she see the black forelock against her breast, as the man sucks firmly on her points of her breast. "What are you doing?" she says in English. She raises her hands to push him away. He leans on her arm and pushes her other hand down with his hand. "Ssshhh." he responds.

Her groin is suddenly hot, swelling, almost painful in response. He lifts his hand to cup her other breast then takes the nipple between his fingertips, rolling and squeezing it. Her hand lifts as if to push him away, but he gently pushes it back to the table surface.

She feels a wave of shame, shock, and indecision. She fears making him uncomfortable. She wants to avoid embarrassment. Her nipples feel waves of sensation in response to his movements. She can feel her pussy pulsing as his mouth pulses on her nipple. Cologne-like smell and something more animal, musky, wafts toward her. She tries to roll to the side to escape his urgent mouth. Her nipple pops out of his mouth.

He takes hold of the wet nipple with his other hand and continues to manipulate it while staring into her eyes. "Tell me you don't like it and I will stop doing it." he says quietly.

She stares at him, unbelieving. "I....". She stops... "I don't know...." Her eyes close once again. She lies still. He moves quickly, almost silently to the other side of the table and leans down to take the other nipple in his mouth.

What the fuck is happening to me? Why don't I get up? she thinks. It's not my fault. He won't let me get up. Her pussy pulses as he strokes her breasts with his palm. She feels herself losing contact with reality.

"I've watched you walk past for months. I've dreamed of sleeping with you for months. Your tits are incredible. You know that, right? You know that every man on this block dreams of sucking your tits, right?"

She is silent. She feels frozen, scared of what will happen if she tries to get up. The man continues to suck her breasts. A hot flood of sensation and emotion fills her abdomen and her chest. She wants to cry, to push against him and run away, but she is unable to move. She feels the throb of desire in her pussy and she can sense the wetness there.

The man shifts his attention to her neck. Leans his cheek against her lips, brushes her lips with his thumb. "I've dreamt of doing so many things to your lips. I'm not lying. "

He inserts his thumb into her mouth. Her lips do not move. She looks at him, beseechingly.

"Give me permission to feel inside you. I won't do it if you say no. Just once. Just a little bit." the man whispers as he stares in her eyes.

He removes his thumb from her mouth, and slides his hand a few inches under the waistband of her jeans. He pops the button open, pushes his hand under the elastic of her underwear.

She makes an inarticulate sound of denial, but at that moment her pussy contracts and pulses, lifting her hips infinitesimally. He slips his hand down another inch, pushing his middle finger into the groove where her clit lies. She feels like her clit leaps up to meet his finger, though perhaps it was the involuntary movement upward of her hips. He rubs his finger firmly across her swollen clit, making her buck with pleasure.

"Please let me. Please." he says, not taking his eyes off hers. "Just once, just a little..."

She remains silent, conflicted. I need to get up. I need to get out of here. I think I want to fuck him. she thinks.

"Tell me yes." he whispers without taking his gaze from hers.

He slips his middle finger between her pussy's lips. "Oh my god, baby, you are like a river down here. Do you want me to stop?"

She makes an effort to heave herself off the table and push him away, but he is stronger than her, and holds her body down on the table with the weight of his arm.

"Don't be like that, just let me finish you, let me help you come, okay? That's all I want, I want to see you coming."

Her body stiffens but is betrayed by her hips, which thrust upward slightly to meet the tip of his finger. He takes a nipple in his mouth, puts one arm under her head and takes hold of the tip of the other nipple. She leans her head back with a cry as he penetrates her pussy with two fingers. He pushes on her clit with his palm, alternating with deep thrusts of his fingers in her vagina. His mouth rhythmical sucking on her nipples, nipping at the tips with his teeth. He paused to unzip her zipper, pulling her jeans and underwear off one leg.

Her thoughts no longer make sense, her body has taken over. No, no, no... repeats in her mind at the moments when she can think at all Brief thoughts of her boyfriend pass through her mind as the man thrusts his fingers in her vagina and devours her nipples. Sensations overwhelm her thoughts. Guilt and shame overlay the sensations.

Her body started to buck, her head lifting off the table as a delicious warmth spread from her finger tips and toes to the center of her body in successive waves of pleasure. Her legs stiffen. She inhales the man's scent from his hair. Her cries resound through the room as the man curls his fingers inward to her g-spot causing more waves of pleasure. She comes more intensely that she ever has before.

She lay still, once more on the table. The man removes his fingers from her slick, clenched pussy as she convulses again. She sits up, her eyes avoiding his. The man releases his hold on her, stands back away from her as if he isn't sure what she will do next.

She dresses silently. He leans against the white-washed walls, eyes not meeting her gaze, as if ashamed, hands behind his back. She walks to the door, filled with guilt. I should have known that he wasn't really a masseur. I'm a fucking idiot. I can't believe I let him finger fuck me.

His eyes meet hers as she turns back for an instant. "I hope your head feels better." he says. "I am sorry if I lacked respect for you." She stares at his face for a moment, then steps out of the shadows into the passageway.

She quickened her pace down the dim hallway and out into the sunlight. The street was still empty, the white walls reflecting the light. She turned up the hill and continued walking home, while the herbalist took his place on his stool in the dimness behind his glass counter.

lalilolly
lalilolly
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luedonluedonalmost 7 years ago
But did the migraine come back?

After all, she did go back into the sunlight, and that's when it can get really bad.

Lue

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