Once In A Career

Double Penetration

I need to touch. It’s what I crave and it’s why I chose this line of work. Here, I’m paid to use touch to bring pleasure to others. In turn, through my hands and what I give, I receive pleasure. I love my work, I am good at it, and I am fortunate to get as much out of it as my clients do.Most of my clients are women. This also suits me, because I love women’s bodies. All of them. And, I know that every woman is sexy in her own way. I have seen it time and time again and I love bringing it out. You see, for what I do, outward appearance is irrelevant. Mix that truth with the feeling of freedom that comes from inviting the intimate touch of a stranger, and forgotten sexuality emerges. It happens all the time, and it is amazing. My clients walk away invigorated and I walk away proud to have woken that up. But for a few rare clients, that is just the beginning.She is coming in today; my favorite client. I don’t know much about her outside of this room, but what I do know is that she is my perfect opposite. She needs to be touched. For her, it’s about more than just massage. With her, skin is the gateway to a true sensuality that lies deeper. Having someone else’s touch fulfills her the way touching someone else fulfills me. I see it in the way she changes when she comes into the room. I hear it in the way she breathes when I work on her. It is subtle and beautiful. She has been coming to me for about a year. Our sessions have always been pretty straight-forward, but today she has something on her mind. It is clear when she walks in the door. Every now and then this happens. A client will want something off-menu, but it’s an art, reading her and finding ways to invite her to ask for it. I hope that I am right. I hope we can go down this road together. I hope she has the courage. Standing on the opposite side of the table, she looks nervous, slightly uncomfortable, but excited. Her skin is flushed pink and she won’t look me in the eye. The anticipation of what she might say is killing me, but I keep quiet. In this conversation, she needs to be the first to speak. She looks down as she begins. “I was hoping for something different, today.” Inside I’m smiling from ear to ear, but I keep my face professionally blank and my voice matter-of-fact. I ask simply, “What would you like?” “You always say the most wonderful things to me. You always compliment me and it sounds sincere, so I believe you.” She bites her lip. It’s not meant to be seductive. She is taking a little detour, thinking, avoiding the actual question. She has no idea that she is teasing me. I know what I want her to say, and it’s hard to let her go at her own pace. I know that with a little patience this will pay bahis şirketleri off for both of us, but after several moments it looks like she might lose her nerve. I take a chance and try to draw her out. “I have never told you any lies, but it sounds like you are referring to something specific.” With an encouraging gesture, I ask, “Are you willing to tell me what is on your mind?”She takes a breath and continues. “You tell me that I am beautiful. You tell me that I have lovely skin. You tell me all these things, so I wondered, do you actually enjoy giving me my massages, or is this just a job for you? I mean, I know it is a job for you, but do you like it…what you do…when I am your client?”If only she knew! I keep that exclamation to myself and answer as calmly as I can, “Are you asking me if I find you attractive in a personal way?”“Yes.” She glances at me and then away almost immediately. “I’m sorry. I know this is totally unprofessional…”I cut that thought off right there. The last thing I want her thinking about right now is what is professional. “Don’t be embarrassed. I’m glad you asked me. I want to tell you the truth. And that is, yes, I do find you attractive. And yes, I do look forward to our sessions.”Relief covers her face. She has crossed that first dangerous line. “I don’t want to offend you or embarrass you. And…of course you can say no. I don’t want to get you into trouble. You can even tell me to go away and never come back, but I’ve been working up my nerve, trying to figure out a way to say…I wanted to ask you…” She pauses and looks as though she might pick up her bag and bolt. That can’t happen. “Please,” I say. Her internal conflict makes her so enticing right now it’s hard not to beg her to go on. “It’s ok. I cannot say these things. I cannot bring them up, but you can. You can ask me.”“Do you know what I want to say?”“Not for certain. Not exactly. But,” I offer her my vulnerability, “I have hopes.”“Hopes?” Her voice is full of them as she says the word. My response is a smile and a nod. She continues. “I wanted to ask you if you would touch me.”There it is! My joy goes through the roof. This woman is a once-in-a-career client. She is fantasy incarnate. I encourage her. “In a way different from the way I usually touch you during our sessions?”“Yes.”“I think I understand, but if we are going to do this, I need you to be specific. Ok? What I can tell you is that nothing you ask for will offend me. I will tell you yes or I will tell you no. Do you understand?”“Yes. I do.”“So. You say you want me to touch you. How do you want me to touch you?” Give this to me. Give me the words so that I can give us both what we desire. She does. “Every time bahis firmaları I visit you, I receive such pleasure. I know that that is what I am paying you for, but I wondered if you receive any pleasure from what you do and I thought that maybe, if you genuinely think I am attractive in the way that you make me feel attractive, that you might want to touch me in other ways. Have you ever wanted that?”“You want me to be honest?”“Yes.”“Yes. I have wanted that.”“I have wanted it, too,” she says. “So, I would like it if, today, you would touch me the way you want to touch me.”She is perfect: her desire, her need, her uncertainty, and the way she is carefully feeling her way through her proposition. She is a little older than me and that is a huge draw. Younger women are complicated and unpredictable. Mature women know what they want and, once they feel comfortable, they aren’t afraid to ask for anything. That is a major turn-on. I don’t want complications. I don’t want to play head games. Well, not those head games… I’m into pleasure. Clear. Defined. Pleasure. A slow burn has begun deep inside of me and it manifests in the spreading smile that I give to her. “I can do that. I would like that. Tell me more. Tell me more about what you want. What you need.”She has her permission now. She knows she won’t be rejected. She can be bold. “I want you to touch me in the way you would touch me if we were just two people. Not a professional and a client. I want you to explore my body the way you would if I were your new lover.”“And, do you want to be my lover?”She hesitates, looking up at me and then down again. “I…I don’t know.”Her answer is disappointing, but not as much as she might believe. Plunging my cock into a willing woman is an incredible pleasure, but that’s not what this is about. This, what is happening between us right now, is exciting on a different level entirely. This is purely erotic, an exchange of sexual energy that does not necessitate a pay-off. It is seduction for seduction’s sake. It is the end in itself.My thoughtful pause causes her to back-pedal. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I was wrong to ask. This is inexcusably selfish. I’m sorry.”“Please. Don’t do that. Don’t feel ashamed. Don’t feel selfish.” I take her hand, making first contact, reassuring her and solidifying our agreement. “I want what you are asking me. More than you know. Yes. I will give you what you want because I want it, too. You are. This is. My fantasy.” Finally, she looks me straight in the eye, beaming. “How do we do this?” Her new confidence is insanely cute. I want to be near her, so I come around the table, moving just a little closer than I normally would, crossing that line that intimates kaçak bahis siteleri and lovers can cross. “How about this,” I say. “Let’s begin like normal. I will go out and you can get ready. When I return, I will begin your massage, but it will be in the way that you asked. I will touch you. I want to touch you. I will explore your body, and as I touch you, you can tell me if you like it or not. There will be no obligation on your part. I will bring you pleasure, and through that, yes, I will receive pleasure. We will give this to each other. If you want me to stop, simply say so. Ok?” Her radiant smile shows me all the fantasies she has ever had about me, about massage, about other lovers, anything she has ever been afraid to ask for, bubbling up into her conscious imagination. She is about to have the sensual experience she has always wanted. It is going to be life-changing, and I get to give it to her. There is no more hesitancy as she replies, “Ok.”I leave her alone in the room and close the door behind me. Looking up and down the hall, I check to see if anyone is around. No one. That’s good, because if any of my co-workers see me right know, they’ll know something is up. I’m buzzing, and these pants…well, they don’t hide much. Women get aroused on my table all the time, and I’ve been propositioned by clients before. I’ve even taken a few of them up on the offer, but those were shallow, base encounters. She is different. She is not just trying to get off. She is offering herself up to me and I want her. Not just the turn on, the excitement, or the danger, but her. She wants my hands and I want to put them on her. When I re-enter the room, she is on the table, face down. The sight of her there, laid out for me, waiting, turns me on like a switch. My heart beats faster and my temperature begins to rise. She is mine to touch. I want to dive right in, take off the crisp sheet that covers her and devour her, but I remind myself that I have time. We have time. I will unwrap this gift that she has presented me with, slowly and purposefully. I will savor every moment. Every touch.I begin as I always do, the way we agreed. I put scented oil on my hands, hold them beneath her face and softly tell her. “Breathe in.” She inhales and exhales. “Once more.” She does, again, deeper this time. “That’s good,” I say, keeping my voice low and gentle. Not a whisper, but soft, so that only she can hear. “Are you comfortable? Warm enough?”“Yes.”“Good.”I take a moment to look at her, deciding where and how to begin. Her hair. The soft curls run slowly through my fingers as I draw them to the side. The curve of her neck is graceful and I trace my fingers down from her ear to her shoulder, adding more pressure as I begin in earnest, following the usual pattern of the massage she likes. Shoulders first, then down over her back, enjoying her skin and the curves of her body. Her breath deepens and steadies.

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