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Hello. :) It's a long time since I've been here. Like at all. I see Saffy's stopped posting, but it's still going. Looks like that's something to do with the Lady so thanks for that! :D

Anyway, many lightyears ago in a galaxy far, far away, I started to write a story about a massage. I never got to finish it properly, but this is how it is when I stopped. I hope you like it and I hope you're all well and enjoying life. :)

Beth was the first unknown person to give feedback on my first story and she's inspired by someone i hold dearly.

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I’m waiting…  And the waiting makes me even tenser.

This is the third time I’ve trekked downtown to visit the masseuse recommended by my girlfriend, but the masseuse, a middle-aged man, is allegedly the best in the business. He just hasn’t done much for me. For some reason I feel cold and unresponsive with him.

Anyway, I promised my girl that I’d give it another try, so as the receptionist calls my name, I wander into the empty room. I gaze at the tealights burning softly, the silks and beads pure beauty is captured in the dim lit room whilst the luxurious massage bed dominates the center.

As I strip out of the cute top-and-skirt combo I’m wearing, sliding my feet from the strappy summer sandals and begin peeling the simple nude half-bra and hotpants from my lightly tanned skin, I realize that as average as this masseuse is, it does feel awfully good just having someone touch my skin and I begin to relax slightly at the thought.

Barely finishing the thought I shake my head at myself and slide my arms into the armholes of the plain, soft white robe.

The wait isn’t long and I find myself standing out of habit as soon as I hear the door open. I walk over to the smooth leather bed cushions, and waiting until Tom, my masseuse, turns his head. I peel the robe from my naked body. Only…

It isn’t Tom at all.

When I see his replacement, I feel a sudden urge to not be quite so protective of my nakedness. I fight the urge, but not until a slip of my right hand bares half of my breast.

Her voice is soft and high, cute. I guess (correctly, although I don’t find this out till much later) that she can’t be much older than nineteen.
She introduces herself as Beth and apologizes for upsetting my routine, but regrets to inform me that Tom is sick.

“You can reschedule if you like… But…” she says, as I see her gazing lightly on my partially-exposed breast and I feel the sudden, violent rush of heat beginning in my chest and racing through my body.

My pussy twinges as I take the time looking Beth up and down and as she slowly steps towards me, wavy copper hair dancing down her slender back, nearly to her waist, she blinks her light hazel eyes at me, more slowly than she really should do. Her long lashes beckon me. Her small pixie-like features and little upturned nose and chin make her seem even more vibrant.

I notice her robe is identical to mine, little peeks of her skin flashing from the white folds of her oversized robe – at least it seems oversized, her frame is so small and slight.

She approaches me, asking if I’m okay and I realize I’ve been gaping.

“No, that’s fine, no need to reschedule” I answer smiling.

“Great” she says “then let’s get started. “Get comfy on the table while I prepare some things.”

She bustles about behind me as I drape my robe over a nearby lounger. I turn to lift my knee upon the bed and realize she turned back to face me, boldly and unprofessionally.

My face flushes and I reflectively cross my hand in front of my chest as I climb up and settle, reaching for the folded towel nearby and adjusting it over my bare ass. Looking away from Beth, my brow furrowed, asking myself if I just saw what I think I did; the tall girl’s pink little tongue gazing over her lips as she stared down between my thighs…

The bed is so comfortable – I briefly wonder if these are available for home purchase – as I cross my hands just in front of my forehead and relaxes, the cool leather cradling my naked breasts. I hear a soft rasp of her bare feet as she approaches and the scent of sweet oil greets me. This smell is unfamiliar, something new, I realize, different than the last time. Maybe each masseuse has his or her own blend?

I begin to turn my head to ask her, but she’s suddenly right at my side, applying the hot towel to my bare back. I swallow back my question and replace it with a soft sigh as the heated cloth steams against my skin and open my pores, another towel tented over the back of my thighs and calves. I feel every inch of my body starting to relax, this time feels so natural compared to Tom. She murmurs something under her breath, something too low for me to hear and I turn my head towards her, asking her to clarify.

Again her swift caring motions interrupt me and her little fists grind into the towels, kneading my flesh hidden beneath.
From my shoulders and neck, all the way down my back to where the non-heated towel covers my shapely ass, her small hands with slender fingers rubbing far lower than necessary.

The beginning words of protest start to form in my throat, but already she recedes and repeats the kneading motions down each of my legs.

I hear a rustle near my head and this time I look up, to see Beth pulling a clear bottle of light nut-brown oil from the depths of what appears to be her handbag? Did she bring it to work with her? 
I was sure Tom always got his from the shelf over against the far wall… But it smells so sweet… This time I muster up the strength to ask Beth what it is and I can hear the smile in her voice as she responds.

“It’s my own blend of almond oils.”

Her movements are sure, precise, somehow more than Tom’s. My body shivers as Beth peels the towel from my back, the room air cooling it rapidly. She chases my goose bumps with her expert touch, her hands so delicate yet firm, so thoughtful and tender.

She stops.

I hear the soft hiss-pop of a removed cork, followed by the flooding sweet scent of almond and spices, the wet whisper of flesh against oiled flesh and then her hands, and fingers, circling around my neck. They seek out every nook and joint and tendon, massaging my lovely shoulders. The long trapezium, muscles connecting my shoulders to my neck. I feel her nails, somewhat short and trimmed, rasping against my skin and her little palms working the heated oil into my open pores, making my skin glisten and glow, I’m totally relaxed now.

I moan as she increases pressure and the moan ends in a sharp but soft cry as I feel her breath and then her lips at the back of my neck, just along my hairline. I thought for a moment, was it my imagination or did Beth really just do that. She suddenly moved further down, working her magic on my upper back, my shoulder blades. Attentive firm touches and strokes, always massaging towards my heart. My pulse is quickening even as I relax and I begin to wonder if not just the beds, but Beth herself is available for home purchase.

She’s very good and I ask how long she’s worked here.

“A while now” is her vague answer as she drags her knuckles up and down either side of my spine, giving me a cold chill to shiver from.

“Uh huh” I moan, just following her movements with my mind. She finishes with my sides and ribcage. She then begins kneading tight little circles against my nicely-arched lower back, my sensitive kidney areas, right down to my tailbone and the little cleft suggesting the female rise of my hips and ass.

Her hands caress the smooth, slippery oil into the tops of my cheeks, further down than Tom ever went and by now I’m intensely curious about what the hell’s going on here and I’m about to finally ask her rather poignantly…

As I reposition myself and begin to turn my body, I realize with a shock how aroused I am. Her thumbs flirt dangerously close to the cleft between my cheeks and I can feel my legs slowly spreading of their own accord. Her hands feel so good, working my tight glutes and squeezing more and more firmly and my breath catches as a stray droplet of oil trickles down between my cheeks, perfuming my hidden little star.

I notice the majority of my nice ass is peeking out from behind the towel which is bundled near the top of my thighs, but to my knowledge, Beth pays no notice, the hot towels enshrouding my legs are the next to go.

My feet feel so divine in her well-oiled hands and she takes her sweet time, working oil into each toe, the soft back of the ball of each foot, my heels and ankles. She adds a second shiny coating after the first and pats my feet dry with a towel only to massage them thoroughly again, digging her little fists into my soles and insteps and banishing the tension there.

By now, I wish I had been more attentive to the clock when I entered because this session already feels so much longer than the rest, but I discard the thought just as quickly as I appeared to me when her little fingers struggle in vain to encircle my ankles and she giggles as she bears down on the back of my calves, kneading those taut muscles there, then carefully brushing her oily fingertips against the sensitive backs of my knees.

She’s so good, her touch relaxes me so much that I hardly notice the bunched towel being removed until her nails score the creases between my ass and thighs and her palms conform to the apples of my cheeks. She squeezes, hard,  it starts to feel good – too good. This starts to feel less and less like a massage and I know it, but despite my discomfort in my mind, my legs keep spreading. 

Then I feel it again, her hot breath washing over my glistering skin and her tongue teasing a beadlet of oil from my left ass cheek.

I turn myself over on my back, quickly sitting up, reaching in vain for a towel to cover myself and begin to ask what is going on. Beth is speechless. She  just stands there naked, her robe long discarded. I can’t help but look at her. Her very small breasts and beaded nipples poking proudly, her tall sleek body, the faintest curve of her belly, the single bright green jewel dangling from its chain swinging from her pierced navel and – oh my God – the small trimmed, copper-coloured tuft above her young, sweet snatch, her slim hips and long tapered legs. 

I realize she isn’t an employee at all, but I can’t bring myself to ask what happened to Tom. I’m mesmerized and my legs are embarrassingly parted wide, almost against my will.
She presses an oily finger to her lips, pleading with me with those bright hazel eyes and I see a playful half-smile at the corner of her mouth as she sits where my feet used to be, knees around my hips and hugs my legs to her chest with no resistance.

Her pretty lips pucker as she kisses my left foot and my toes, her hands never stopping, never even slowing, as she massages more sweet oil into the tops of my thighs and shins.

Her work is becoming sloppier as she loses herself even more in my massage and I feel little rivers of oil that she missed, tracking down my legs toward the sweet treasure between them. She pulls and my legs glide obediently around her waist and her hands settle around my neck and throat, massaging my jaw and I think to myself “God, she’s thorough” just as leans over me, her copper locks tickling my breasts.

I see her smile, her eyes fixed on mine. I blush as I realize how carried away I must have been, but she just laughs lightly, the sound of sweet music, it sends a shiver down my spine.

She teases my nipples between her oiled knuckles, gripping my breasts and squeezing as she laughs again and just as sudden as she grasped them, she lets go, her hands coming together as they train down my belly and her oily hand, hot now from all the intense friction with my skin, slips over my mound like a curtain.

So warm and caring, so good and wet, so soft and loving.

My entire body glistens with golden oil and glows heatedly. I throw my legs to either side, all resistance to this lovely girl completely gone and her slender hand is now cupped between my thighs. She makes the most subtle movements with her little hand. The heel of her palm is held firmly against my moans as she rolls her hand down, the pressure coming in waves from top to bottom. Her hand undulates, rolling against my folds, the tip of her fingers tapping the base of my slit. But she’s not rubbing, well not yet anyway. This is her massage of my pussy.

Slow, just focusing on touching me.

She feels my reaction, and her smile is bright. Twin rows of perfect white little teeth peeking out at me from behind artfully glossed crimson lips. Her touch is perfect. Her hand begins to slide a little at the end of each wave, pressing my folds more firmly, her fingers so soft.

Beth’s features flush as she demurely lowers her gaze and her bare feet backpedals on the cold floor as she slips her delicate arms around, beneath my arched back, her hands sliding beneath my bare ass and she pulls me easily towards her, my oiled skin skating frictionless over the leather cushion.

She licks her lips again and my heart nearly stops. Is she going to….? But she manages to cling somehow to a professional edge and her pretty lips and mischievous lips remain a respective distance from my exposed pussy as she sinks to her knees.

Her palms and fingers mould to my inner thighs, long and slender like the rest of her; perfectly formed. They were made to touch and heal but most importantly, to give pleasure.

I swallow the lump in my throat and manages to ask,

“Where did you… I mean, how long have you done this? You’re  truly amazing!

It’s that smile again, dimpling her cute cheeks, thumbs nestling firmly against my outer labia, squeezing them together till the puffy flesh bulges between her knuckles, but I persist,

“Please…” I sigh, “My girlfriend wanted me to do this, and it was… Umm, at first it was… You know. It was okay, but I have to talk to your boss about switching to you!”

The corner of her mouth twitches as I mention my girlfriend, up or down, it’s too hard to tell, the gesture is gone as quickly as it arrived, then she shrugs lightly and begins shifting her hands in opposite directions, one up and the other down, see-sawing my labia together and again rolling her palms against my most sensitive skin and she looks up my body.

“I…. I don’t have a boss. I don’t work here.” She whispers. I’ve been watching you, and, umm. I work at a photo lab. I’ve seen your most recent modeling shots...” she blushes. “All of them, and I… I just knew I had to touch you. My friends say I give the best massages” she giggles. “So I wanted to surprise you. I guess… You could say I’m your stalker.

I smile, but it turns into a chuckle. “I’ve sorta always wanted a stalker.”

Overly happy with my response, she tucks her thumbs inside my folds, biting her lip at the thought of what my reply had just allowed her to do.

She just smiles coyly, “I hope you don’t mind.”

I can feel her breath tickling my skin, her fingertips pinching my lips and parting them, kneading them firmly between her thumbs and forefingers. I blink as if to snap back to reality when I feel her gaze upon my inner pink and I hear her take a deep breath. I can’t tell if the accompanying nudge to my tautly-stretched labia is from a stray finger or her cute little nose.

She manipulates my folds so well, rubbing and stretching in opposite directions, massaging, probing every nook and crease. Her fingers clamp down around my lips now, making them bulge again, trapping my hooded clit, her breath teasing me again, then suddenly she rolls and strokes my own soft pussyflesh, jerking against my clit like a tiny cock.

I hear her gasp and I know longer feel her other hand, but then, suddenly I do, her fingers very slippery, she finally and firmly crosses the line and I feel two of her fingers, piercing me, pressing deep and downwards, leaving me shuddering on the still-oily leather.

She’s as good at massaging me inside as out. Her slippery fingers curving so perfectly inside me until her knuckles kiss my lips, her other fingertips still padding up and down my pinched clit shrouded in its little hood.  She’s been teasing me this whole time, from the moment she first licked her lips at the start of the session, but when her tongue finally, finally tickles my hard clit and she fingers me good and hard, fucking me with all she’s got, I feel my skin flushing… So much heat, my glistering body shaking, I cry out, momentarily forgetting that I’m in a somewhat public place

Her tongue. That tiny little tongue, so strong and sure against my cunt, stabbing that little patch of skin just beneath my clit, the flicking her tongue like a whip across my sensitive clit and pursing her lips around me.

She giggles and squeals, surprised by my sudden flow, lapping at me and slurping down my juices. Wet and messy, my cum flavoured with almond oil. She stands, after attentively kissing me as clean as possible, greedily tracking down every rivulet and droplet of my sweetened cum, even where I splashed the leather cushion. Her bare foot smears the little puddle on the floor, unseen by me, my juices soaking into the sole of her foot.  She doesn’t want to waste a single drop of me.

I smile up, my chest rapidly rising and falling, trying to regain a somewhat respective composition, but Beth just stares down at me, boldly, with a big mirthy grin parting her lips again, her face awash from my orgasm.

“We should get outta here. Tom will have fixed his flat tire by now” she giggles. “I have a shift at the lap soon anyway… But me and my friend are housesitting for her parents while they’re on vacation. Can you come?… Over?” she grins wickedly and plucks the nearly empty vial of oil from the table, banishing it to the depths of her purse, making her way to her stashed clothing, leaving her robe pooled on the floor.

“Cause I still need to touch you.” She blushes slightly. “What do you think, a private little party out by the pool, lots of lotion. I’ll teach you some tricks!” She grins again. “Darcy’s parents’ house is huge, we’ll have it all to ourselves. Coz, you know…” clearing her throat, “She won’t be there much, unless she brings home a boy. She’s kind of a…. How do I put this nicely?” Beth giggles again. “A slut. But I love her.”

She quickly towels me off, stepping into her cute flip flops and letting the summer dress shimmy down her otherwise naked body and then helps me to my feet, her lips pressing tenderly to my cheek as Beth leads me over to my clothes.

“I’ll email you the address… Don’t ask how I know your email. Stalker, remember?” She grins and offers a flirty wave before disappearing like a dream.

I hear her keys jingle and the soft retreating footfall of her flip flops.

Hastily grabbing a towel and cleaning up as best as I can then dressing quickly/ I run out through the Clinique, nearly colliding with the receptionist, who, by the way, is frantic.
Ironically she feels awful that I had to wait so long, but Tom had only called in moments ago. “Freak flat tire”, she said. “Looks like someone slashed it up pretty good.”

She apologized profusely and I reply hastily, smiling. “It’s okay, no hard feelings, but I think I just might have found what I need elsewhere!”