Fantastic Bodywork

A fantastical imagining. To be taken as an inspiration, not a promise.

 

The apartment is dim; I’ve pulled a heavy curtain across my large window. There are a fed tea lights burning here and there, adding a flickering glow. The layout is a bit awkward, walking through the kitchen before reaching the icing room but once there, the lounge jazz and low light facilitate the kind of conversation that only fills space while I unbutton your cuffs.

Your voice is low, relaxed. You’ve been here before, you know what to expect and you’re looking forward to taking a load off. Our clothes slip to the floor, piece by piece, interspersed with gentle kisses and soft caresses.

“Would you like me to torture you with anticipation or do you prefer I do something about this and let you relax in post-orgasmic bliss?”

“I’m having trouble focusing right now.” You chuckle.

“Then I think I’d like to keep that up. Come lie down.”

I draw the massage table away from the wall where it’s been waiting, dark and inviting. “face down to start.”

From the moment you lie down your heart slows. Breath slows, movement slows, each moment drawing itself longer and longer as you sink into that state of not-awake but not-asleep. Your mind drifts. You feel warm oil and my strong, tiny hand smoothing it over your shoulders, your back, your ass, your legs, teasing with my fingertips a little as I pass your hips.

I start on one side, just above your hip, lifting and kneading your muscles as I sweep my gesture up and down your back, covering every inch of you with kitty-paw massage. If you looked to one side you’d see me in my mirror, clear smooth skin from head to toe, breast swinging, perky bottom braced to give you deep, firm pressure. On occasion you feel a nipple lightly graze your back or a small quite kiss on the back of your neck.

My kneading hands move down your body, giving careful attention to each muscle group. trapezius, latissimus, gluteals, hamstrings, calves… slow. Perfect. Mesmerizing. Each song blends into the next and your mind drifts.

As I finish one final pass, one long, slow stroke from your soles to your shoulders and back, I break contact.

You hear oil pouring but don’t feel it.

You hear me step around to one side. Feel my fingertips brush one thigh. Notice the table shift a bit as I draw myself up, one slow controlled movement, and slide my firm breasts, my soft belly, the curls at my groin, me knees, across your body. Sometimes you feel my fully weight pressing you, a long deep exhale with the comforting weight of a tiny beautiful woman settling onto your back. Sometimes you can only feel the light softness of my feminine curves meeting your skin here and there. Hot breath on your ear, tiny giggles, deep strokes of my knees across those long muscles by your spine. Slow. Controlled. A fine dance, a slow motion jungle gym, pressing, moving, stroking, teasing.

I can feel you when I slip my fingers between your legs. That sweet spot hidden there under, between the family jewels and your shooting star. I can feel your erection as it disappears into you. I can feel you hard, ready, waiting.

“How do you feel about turning over onto your back?” I whisper into your ear. All I get is a smile in response.

It takes a moment as I stand at the foot of the table, watching your muscles move as you turn. A few inelegant flops and you’re resting on your back, your proud, hard cock staring us both in the face. I turn my attention from you to your cock. For a moment, I get to objectify you, turn you into a vehicle for my desire. We lock eyes and I climb up onto the table, onto you, my breasts brushing and pressing up against you, until we lie, me over you, lips locked, my body shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh, pressed up against you.

With one talented hand I draw you close but not over the edge. I hear your silence turned to heavy breath, quiet moans, I feel my own body responding, images leaping to mind, the sensations in my hand translating into my pussy, an echo of penetration. So close, but so far.

We come close to the edge together, my warm hips grinding on your thigh as my hand, slick and hot with oil, an echo of my wet lips, brings you closer, closer, slowly, until I feel that moment, the moment when you’re so full you throb, the moment I hear your moans turn to words “Oh my god.” Yes, your goddess, your sensual treasure, we ratchet each other’s arousal higher and higher with each breath until I feel you shudder, throb, splash us both with hot, slippery come.

We ride your waves together. I know better than to touch the sensitive rim but everything else is fair game. Pressure, subtle movement to keep the waves coming, keep your orgasm going as long as I can. I want you to feel the way I feel when I come.

A deep breath out, a smile, a giggle. Hot damp towels and deep working your hands or feet or shoulders. I can see the tension seep out of you. You eyes are closed; you’re just enjoying the afterglow, the moment of rest before you have to rejoin the world.

A shower, a glass of water, a piece of chocolate, and you’re on your way again. Relaxed. Revived.