Chase was like most men that he knew. He was married with children. He worked a job that he enjoyed but one that he’d never really aspired to. He fell into it. That’s the way Chase felt about most things in his life.
He’d been born into his religion. He had been active in his church all his life. He served a mission for his church as was
expected of him. At the time he was sure that he had wanted to. That it really was something he was passionate about doing. In truth, the pressure from the community around him was too great to refuse. When he came home, the mission was to find a wife and find it quickly. Chase had been told in humor that single men over the age of 25 were a nuisance to society. But behind the laughs and jokes, were judging eyes that truly believed a single man over the age of 25 was no good. The only pariah worse would be a single woman over the age of 21. That is unless you were a “special spirit”, code for unmarriable.
Chase dated with desperation during his time at school. There was a clock ticking and he couldn’t tell how much time was left. It was the only acceptable way for Chase to lose his virginity after all. Chase had “fallen” to the temptation of masturbation in his youth. He had tried to stop the “filthy habit” but could rarely abstain for longer than a week. He hated himself for his weakness. He knew that he was carnal and base. Chase didn’t have access to pornography in his home. It was an age before widespread internet availability. Back then, you had to seek it out.
On his mission, Chase had managed to stop “self-abuse” for 6 months. He’d longed for wet dreams as a release but they came too rarely and he’d find himself in his bathroom furiously jerking himself off to nothing but the fantasies in his mind. The glimpses of breasts he saw. The thought of sister missionaries. Whatever came to mind. Sometimes, Chase would cry afterward as he cleaned up his semen. He wondered if his companion did the same thing. He wondered if his companion knew how sinful Chase was.
Chase found a girl a year after his mission. They dated for a few weeks before it became “serious”. They dated for six months before they got engaged and were married a month later. All according to the plan laid out by what was expected of him.
Chase was excited for their wedding night. So was his wife, but when they got to their honeymoon hotel room she was shy and quiet as she took off her clothes and covered her small breasts with her hands. They had kissed before they were married but nothing more. Chase’s penis was hard and throbbing. But his new bride refused to look at it. They fumbled with each other for a while. When he entered her, she clenched and winced. There was blood afterward and he had torn her a little bit. She cried afterward. It had taken two weeks before they tried it again. She was dry and it chapped them both. There was more blood.
Eventually, they came to a rhythm. And it wasn’t all bad. There were some really good times. They’d have sex almost weekly. At first, Chase was determined to stop his masturbation habit. He was successful. For a while. Having sex had awakened something inside him and he actually craved it more than he had before. But it always seemed like a chore for his wife. Everything he suggested was met with resistance. It hurt his feelings deeply. It seemed like his wife just didn’t need it as he did. Eventually, the lure was too much and Chase began to masturbate again. This time he used pornography.
Pornography was his only release. Oh, how he wished he could be like the men in the films. He learned things and techniques that he would never be able to share with his wife. If she found out about his porn use, she’d leave him. So Chase was careful. For years he carried on this way. His marriage wasn’t unhappy. Quite the opposite. They loved each other deeply. Sex was the only thing they didn’t seem to agree on. It was the only hiccup in what was otherwise a great relationship. They often seemed like really great roommates. Best friend for sure, but lovers? Not so much.
That’s what led Chase to me. I provide a service for men like him. Chase’s browsing of the red light district of the internet led him to me. It was an accidental find at first. But the seed was planted in his mind and it grew. Chase wanted an erotic massage. His conscience, of course, wouldn’t allow it. That would be being unfaithful to his wife. A violation of his covenants with her. Disgrace and shame. He already carried so much of that around with him. He didn’t need more. But his mind turned and worked and justification eventually led him to my door. The curiosity was too strong.
Chase was shy and nervous. Although he was a grown man, his body language painted him as a timid teenager. “Hello there,” I said, “what can I do for you?”
“I saw your ad online,” he stammered.
“Great,” I knew that he was ashamed to say why he was really there, I didn’t need to hear it. I saw his type all the time. “Do you want a full hour or a half hour?” He said he wanted the half hour and I had him pay up front. $60 was my 30-minute price. I showed him into one of the massage rooms. It was so dark that you could hardly see anything from the red lamp on the side table. The room was clean and smelled like scented oils. If those walls could talk though, the stories they would tell . . .
I told him to get ready and lie down on the table. I went into my dressing room to get ready. I wore lingerie for each session. I slipped on a blue baby doll dress. I wore a tiny black thong underneath. When I came back into the room, Chase was sitting on the bed in his bottom underwear. Not exactly what I had expected.
“You can take those off,” I suggested. He was embarrassed that he was wearing garments, but I saw them every day. The things those walls had seen . . . He stood up and nervously slipped them down. His penis was small and shriveled. It was a product of being nervous. I would soon cure him of it. He averted his eyes from me, I could tell that I was the first woman he had seen in person in lingerie apart from his wife. “Lay down honey. On your stomach.” He obliged. I went over and turned on some relaxing massage and meditation music to help set the mood.
His back was strong and smooth. He was very attractive. His butt was skinny but well-formed. I would enjoy working it. “Just relax,” I breathed in a low voice. I could hear his sigh.
When I put my hands on Chase, it was the first time a woman besides his wife had touched him since he had gotten married. My hands were slender and smooth and warm. They touched his back with the lightest of touches. A tickle more than anything. Chase couldn’t help but be aroused. He felt his cock stiffen and surge against the table.
I started at his shoulders as I stood to his side. He could feel my warmth as I stood close by. He could smell the vanilla scent of my body lotion. His hard cock hurt as it pressed into the table. Eventually, he reached down and pointed it downwards between his legs to take the pressure off. I was working his shoulders so I couldn’t see it. Yet.
I moved up by his head, this was my favorite. Even face down, having a man’s head between my legs was exhilarating for me and it was for Chase too. He was focusing on the pleasure of my touch but his mind was eager to look up and see what was right in front of him. I was covered mind you, but many people find being covered sexier than being exposed. I massaged his neck and his arms and his hands. I worked his lower back and now it was time to work that butt of his. Medically, the butt is just where the back and the legs meet. The muscles of our butt are what gives humans the ability to stand and walk upright, which is why they’re so pronounced. And yet there’s no denying that there’s a primal seed of desire when we touch them. Something woven deep into our subconscious.
Chase shuddered when I placed my hand on his butt cheek. I pressed with one hand and tickled his crack lightly with the other. Goosebumps stood out on his skin. I tickled deeper and deeper into his crack. He arched his back either voluntary or involuntarily. Even Chase couldn’t tell. This spread his cheeks and I tickled deeper.
I could see his rock hard cock stuffed downward. It looked terribly uncomfortable. I began to knead his buttocks. Slowly. Gently. I took my time. I used a massage oil that made his skin slippery and soft. My fingers glided over his skin in deft movements. Each one of my movements thrilled and excited Chase. He was more aroused than he had been in a long time. This was better than any porn ever could be. This was real and in the flesh. His wife in all their years of marriage had never touched him like this. The concept would have been foreign to her. Incomprehensible. Chase could feel that he would come soon. He had never come from being touched like this before. Should he hold it or let it go? It was difficult to hold on to a thought. He just felt the building sense of warmth all over. Then he came.
I saw him come. I knew that he would. He shot huge thick jets of his jizz backward over the table. I didn’t think it was possible for a man to have that much in him. Chase spasmed and moaned. I kept working his buttocks as though nothing had happened. I worked the inside of his thighs and my fingers touched his scrotum, oh so very lightly. His cock was shrinking and retreating away from where I could see it. I took a clean towel and wiped up his pile of sperm before it seeped too deep into the fabric. It was time for him to flip over.
His cock was still semi-hard and hung limply to the side. His scrotum hung loose. He was well manicured in his hair. Which was nice. It was nasty to have a bird’s nest of tangled pubes. I leaned over him and worked his chest. My large breasts heaved against the fabric of my lingerie and Chase could see them now. He was staring at them. Chase’s wife had modest sized breasts that had deflated with time and childbearing. Mine were larger and fuller than he had ever seen in person. His cock once again fully hardened and stood up erect and throbbing.
“Can you take it off?” he asked in an almost sleepy tone of voice.
“I can. It’ll be an extra $50.”
“That’s fine.”
I reached down and pulled my lingerie over my head. My breasts caught and it would be a perfect opportunity for a boob drop. They hung there, held in by my top, gravity pulling down. My right dropped first. It swung freely for a few seconds before the other one dropped. Chase’s eyes went wide as he saw them. I only stood there in my black thong. The low red light of the room illuminated my body in a way that I almost looked like I’d been painted there. My nipples were nearly as hard and erect as Chase was.
I grabbed a bottle of oil that had been warming nearby. I took Chase’s penis gently in one hand and dribbled a stream of oil over the tip. His cock shone wetly in the red light. I worked the oil in with my hand and put the bottle away. Chase was about to receive the handjob of his life.
A good handjob is more than just a quick jerking motion. In fact, I hardly jerk at all. I use the palm of my hand to rub. There’s a wrist motion to it. But even more than that, it’s the eye contact. I looked at Chase directly in his eyes and he in mine. We made that connection. It’s true that he would never know my real name, had paid me to be here for him, or would ever see me again after this, but we connected then and there. We were two passionate human bodies. I was rubbing him intimately, topless. My breasts heaved and moved with my arm motions. I cupped his testicles with my free hand. We didn’t say a word to each other. We only stared and breathed.
The exercise of the movement broke me out in a sweat and I began to breathe hard. Chase was breathing hard too but from pleasure. He began to writhe and arch his back. I reached under him and held his butt as he thrust into the air. When he came, he shot white jets seemingly everywhere. It splashed on my breasts and one spurt landed on my lips. When Chase finally opened his eyes, I liked it off my lips. I took another towel and cleaned myself off first, then him.
I had a robe prepared for myself and I covered my nakedness again. Chase dressed too. His penis was red from all the contact.
Chase wasn’t sure what to do now. He handed over the extra $50 he owed for my added show and tipped me another $50 on top of that. He was still in the euphoric glow of all those wonderful endorphins of sex. He stammered an awkward goodbye, unsure as to whether he should hug me or shake my hand. We had just been very intimate but now for some reason, it was formal. I leaned up and kissed him on the mouth. It was by all accounts a chaste kiss. I was the second woman he had ever kissed in his life. When we broke away, I whispered in his ear, “The only thing to feel guilty about is denying yourself your own happiness.”
Chase went home that night and again saw his wife. They kissed when he came home. Something that they had neglected to do. “Honey,” he said, “tonight after the kids go to bed we need to talk about us.” Chase never told her about his pornography or his massage with me. But they began a dialogue about sex and their relationship. And they began to live, sexily ever after.
The Lady Meredith 