Just a massage

She leaned over to pour the tea, and a sharp pain in her back made her wince and freeze.

— Again?" asked Maxim.

The question didn't require an answer; she stood in an awkward position, waiting for the pain to subside.

— You can't go on like this. Let me give you a massage. I've learned how. I do it for my wife all the time. Come on. Why are you being stubborn?

She really wanted their constant guest, a long-time friend of the family, to examine her body, to caress and knead her back. In anticipation of this innocent pleasure, she felt warm and giddy.

— Well, we'll see. It'll probably go away in a moment.

She looked at his hands. If only she could really lie down

and let him fondle her. For him to lift her T-shirt himself, pull down the waistband of her panties, stroke and massage her. She loved having her back and shoulders massaged. Maybe the T-shirt would ride up nicely, and her breasts would be slightly visible. And on her lower back—the mark from the elastic. The decision was made as soon as the pain subsided. Talking over tea, she watched his open, happy face, followed his hands, noticed how he was watching hers. Sniffing the air currents from her gestures. He was in love and wasn't ashamed of it. From the fleeting kisses on the cheek when saying goodbye, she understood how tender he could be and how much he would enjoy touching her.

... And back then, during the confession, his hands trembled completely. He came over to massage her perpetually aching spine while she was sitting at the computer—that was allowed—and couldn't keep his hands to himself. His fingers timidly slid from her neck to her chin. So tender and warm that she couldn't scold him or send him away. He came to his senses and tried to turn it into tickling. She played along, but he didn't leave. He couldn't tear himself away and kept fiddling with her hair and neck.

— Do you want to talk?

— Mhm.

Allowing him to kiss her face all over and hug her tightly, she was surprised by his delicate passion.

... The decision was made. Her spine wouldn't let her sit in a natural position, and Maxim reminded her about the massage again.

— Yes, I guess I'll have to ask you to give me a little massage after all. Let's go to the study.

She was curious how he would behave. Would he just give a massage or would he cross the line and, for example, gently stroke her or kiss her. What should she do then? Snarl or ignore it?

— Lie down," he said tenderly and slyly.

She obediently lay on her stomach and buried her face in the pillow to hide her laughter and pleasure. What will he do? Curious.

— Where exactly does it hurt?

She thought for a second, whether to spare him or not. Decided not to spare him.

— My neck, between the shoulder blades, and right here," she pointed with her hand to a spot on her lower back very close to her buttocks. How would he massage? Over or under the clothes?

— Got it.

He touched her back hesitantly for a while. She physically felt his tenderness and joy. His hands for now moved spasmodically and randomly over her clothes. Suddenly he began carefully pulling her T-shirt out of her pants, decisively lifted it up to her shoulder blades. He paused.

— Lift your arms, please," he took off her T-shirt in a second. "You don't give a massage through clothes.

Before she could digest his decision, her pants and panties began sliding down. He pulled both down sharply. But not the way masseurs do, only to her knees. In a second, she was naked before him.

She mustn't show that she could lie like that forever and would gladly turn over if asked. She trembled with pleasure imagining how happy he would be if she, naked, stroked him between his legs and clung to him. His tenderness endeared him to her, and she wanted him, wanted to please him and make him happy.

He both massaged and caressed her, unable to hide his trembling. His hands couldn't warm up, and his movements were both clumsy and insistent. He had already touched her breasts several times but didn't dare touch her buttocks.

— Just not too fast," she thought. "Caress me some more.

— Does it hurt here?" he began reaching for the most painful spot.

— No, closer to the spine," she answered calmly.

He flinched at her voice. He leaned over her back, she felt his breath. He kissed between her shoulder blades. His hands slid over her buttocks, over her legs.

— I love you.

— I know.

— I dream about you. I dream of how I see you. Thank you.

— Thank you for the massage.

— But I'm not finished yet.

— Massage, massage.

He really knew how to massage; only his tenderness got in the way. He was already stroking her buttocks without embarrassment. Kissing her neck, her back. She waited for him to kiss her ass, but he hesitated for a long time. Suddenly he completely removed her panties and pants.

— You're naked before me. I could sit like this and stroke you forever. I love you.

He laid his face on her back and lay there exhausted, stroking her ass. God, Natasha, what you are. I can't live without you.

He was 18 years older, and his tenderness for her body stirred in her, a thirty-year-old, the mischief of a little devil. She waited.

He kissed the top of her head and whispered:

— Sit on my lap like this. Hug me. Turn around.

She turned, pulled his head close, and tried not to reveal with her movements what she had decided. She sat on the sofa, he stared at her well-groomed, pampered, slender body. She allowed him to enjoy her and lose his senses.

He hugged her and pressed her to himself, pressed his cheek to her body. Simultaneously, familiar male movements were already spreading her legs. But he still didn't understand that this was allowed.

He sat her on his lap, she felt his trembling and felt him trying to calm down. She liked being naked with him, sitting on his lap and teasing him, enjoying his warmth and tenderness.

— If you only knew how much I want you.

— How?

Out of habit, he tried to laugh, but instead, tears welled up in his eyes.

— Do you dream about me in bed?" she turned and looked intently into his eyes.

— Yes," he nodded obediently.

She liked that his movements were familiarly rough.

— And what do you do with me?

He went mute and barely uttered:

— I undress you and take you.

— How?

It was good he wasn't in a stupor. She wouldn't have liked his indecisiveness.

— I take you everywhere.

— And where first?

— In the mouth first.

— Already naked?

— Yes.

— Do you often get taken in the mouth?

— Never, actually.

— So, I take you, then?

— Yes.

Finally, she did what she wanted. His legs had long been spread apart, and it was easy to slip her palm between them. She touched him and looked into his eyes. She clung to him.

— My good girl. Natasha. My little naked one. My beloved.

— Come to me. Come to me, my good one," she felt a surge of tenderness, kissed him, and felt his confident fingers already fiddling with her clitoris. He laid her on the sofa, with one hand caressing her between her legs, and with the other trying to take off his underwear.

— Let me help you." She pulled down his pants, took off his sweater, and only when he was left in his briefs did she begin stroking his penis, feeling how hard, wide, and not very long it was. She slipped her hand into his briefs and took him in her palm.

The smell of clean laundry and deodorant satisfied her.

— So where do you take me first?

— In the mouth.

— Do you say anything to me?

— Yes.

— What?

He was silent.

— What.

— Suck me.

She touched the hot head with her lips, and he, stunned

and this arousing her, inserted his cock into her mouth himself, exhaled, and began moving decisively. She understood that this really didn't happen to him, stroked his balls, wrapped her hands around them, stroked and spread his buttocks. She got on her knees and lifted her face. At the thought of being fucked in the mouth, she, as always, became very aroused and relaxed. Realizing he was about to come, and guessing his desire to pull his cock out of her mouth, she pressed him firmly so he would come in her mouth. Judging by his moan, he had never come in a woman's mouth before. She didn't know if he could continue, so she simply lay on the sofa, looking at his cock out of the corner of her eye. Let him rest a little and asked:

— What do you want?

— To fuck you.

— That's obvious. What else?

— For you to pleasure yourself in front of me. I want to watch you masturbate.

He lost track of time, himself, and reality. He didn't believe it and wanted her.

— I want you.

— What to do?" she spread her legs with pleasure and masturbated. His cock lifted slightly; she didn't hide that she was looking at it. Though, right now she would have preferred not to be disturbed.

— Suck you some more?

— I want to fuck you.

— Fuck me.

Now he wasn't in a hurry.

— How long I've wanted to pull your panties down and fuck you.

He fucked her, and she liked that his movements were powerful, but his hands and lips were tender.

— Natasha, I love you.

— You're my good one. Love me.

He came and lay on her, pressing his prickly cheek against her.

— I feel so good with you. Are you not offended by what I said?

— And what did you say?" she felt him start squirming against her again.

— That... that...

— So what did you say," she jerked towards him.

— That I've long wanted to take your panties off and... fuck you.

— Yeah?

— Yes.

— I liked it when you undressed me today. I wanted you. I wanted you to lie on top of me.

He fucked her again. Less powerfully, but faster.

— Fuck me. Come inside me," she felt she was helping him with her words.

Waiting for him to rest, she asked him to sit on his knees by the sofa, turned onto her stomach, arched her back, stuck her ass out indecently, spread her legs, and began to jerk off. She heard him panting and felt his rhythmic movements. It occurred to her that he was probably masturbating in front of a woman for the first time too.

— What else do you want?

— Sit on my lap. Hug me.

Sitting on his lap, she stroked his hair and cheeks.

— Did you feel good? What else do you want?

— I want to live with you.

— You know that's not possible.

He nodded bitterly.

— Want me to walk you to the gate naked? And you'll take me outside one more time?

He perked up.

— Can I still come to you?

— You already come to us. You mean, can you fuck me?

— Don't get me started. I can't tear myself away from you as it is.

— I want you to fuck me. I feel good with you. You're very tender. You have tender hands. I want to do things for you that no one else has done. That's all I can do for you. You know that. How do you want it next time?

— What, absolutely anything?

— Well, within some limits, of course. Do you doubt it? Don't be afraid, tell me.

— I want... you to meet me in your panties, take them off in front of me, and get on all fours. Without a word. Offer yourself to me...

— Fuck me some more.

— And will you suck me? Suck me off some more.

— Fuck my mouth.

She liked feeling how happy and exhausted he was. She really wanted him. She swallowed his cum, came pleasantly and deeply several times, and he, like a boy, couldn't believe his luck, stroked her and fixed her hair, periodically making big eyes in surprise that all this was really happening.