my sexy masseuse

I've always had a thing for my masseuse and my husband doesn't need to know.

I walked into my spa appointment with determination. The last time I was here, Michael, my masseuse, had "mistakenly" fondled the side of my breast while massaging my back.

The thrill it sent through my body was electrifying and forbidden.

"Mrs Adams, welcome back, Josh has everything set up and ready for you" I'd heard these words from the front desk lady everytime I'd come here, but it felt suspicious today, like she knew I'd fantasized about her coworker all week, that I'd fingered myself to the thought of his fingers exploring my body.

I gave the front desk lady a courteous nod and walked down the hallway and into the VVIP spa room.

My heart thrummed frantically in my chest, last time was a slip of his fingers, but today, we were going to do much more than slip ups.

Josh, my personal masseuse greeted me with a professional smile, but his eyes had a mischievous glint to it, like he knew about all the dirty things I've thought about since last time.

"Lovely to see you again Mrs Adams. I hope you're ready for me today?" He asked, motioning me into the changing room at the edge of the spa room.

"Hi Josh, definitely, my neck muscles are tensed, I need all the attention i can get" I didn't even intend to send such a cryptic message, but oh well.

"I'll give you all the attention you deserve. I'm at your service Mrs Adams" Josh responded low and seductive. He definitely got my hidden message.

I could feel the heat pulling in my core. He gave me a few minutes of privacy and I frantically removed my clothes and laid face down on the spa table.

I draped the customary white towel over my lower back and butt.

I purposely left most of my thighs uncovered. If I needed more than a silly touch, I needed to play my cards right.

-

Josh returned to the room, the scent of essential oils trailing behind him like a promise. His hands hovered just above my back for a moment, teasing, and I felt my breath hitch.

“Just relax, Mrs Adams. Let me take care of all that tension,” he murmured, his voice low, intimate, almost a whisper meant for my ears only.

He poured a good amount of oil in my back. My body tensed up at the new sensation.

His fingers glided over my shoulders, firm and practiced, kneading the knots that had nothing to do with my muscles. Every stroke sent little jolts of electricity along my spine, making me shift instinctively, exposing more of myself beneath the towel.

I felt his hands trace a path down my back, teasing the curve of my hips, lingering a little too long near the sides. My core tightened. My skin was on fire, each touch a delicious reminder of what had happened last time—and what could happen now.

“You like it when I focus here?” he asked, almost rhetorical, his tone half teasing, half commanding.

I moaned softly, not out loud enough to be heard beyond these walls, but enough to let him know. “Yes… it feels… perfect.” and sinful.

His hands slid lower, the pressure increasing, until my towel was nothing more than a suggestion. The heat between us was palpable, an invisible line we both knew we were about to cross. I bit my lip to suppress a louder sound, my pulse hammering in my ears.

I knew he could smell my arousal, even the exquisite smell of the oils could not hide it.

It was embarrassing and sexy all at once.

Josh’s fingers grazed the sensitive skin just beneath the curve of my breast. I arched instinctively, and he chuckled, a dark, throaty sound that made my knees weak.

“I remember last time…” he said, his voice husky. “You liked it when I explored a little.”

I swallowed hard, my body betraying me, pressing subtly into his hands, silently begging for more. Every nerve ending was awake, alive, craving that forbidden contact.

He leaned closer, and the warmth of his body brushed mine. “Today, I think we can do so much more than last time,” he whispered, his fingers moving with deliberate intent, drawing soft gasps from me as his hands trailed to my legs and up my thighs.

-

Josh’s hands didn’t rush.

They never do when a man knows he already owns the moment.

His thumbs pressed slow circles into the flesh of my thighs. firm enough to make me sigh, soft enough to make me ache. Oil warmed my skin, slick and intoxicating, his palms gliding higher in a way that was definitely not in any massage manual.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured.

I was.

Not from nerves. From want. From wanting his fingers inside me.

“Relax,” he added, but his fingers did the opposite, drifting along the sides of my hips, grazing skin the towel barely protected. Every brush felt intentional now. Like he was way past teasing, like he wanted to touch me as well.

My breath stuttered.

Josh leaned closer, so close I could feel his warmth hovering over my back, his presence heavy and electric.

“You’ve been thinking about this, haven’t you?”

Josh asked, his breath, heavy in my ear.

His knuckles traced upward, slow, teasing, stopping just before places that I needed him the most. I was going to go crazy from want at this point.

I bit my lip to stop the moans that threatened to spill out.

“Ever since last time,” he continued softly. “The way you flinched. The way you didn’t pull away.”

God.

My pulse was in my throat.

His fingers brushed the edge of the towel, tugging it a away from my body exposing more of my skin to his touch and the cool air of the room. The contrast sent sparks straight through me.

He took in an audible breath at the sight of my naked body.

“You like being bad, don't you?" he whispered.

My voice came out breathless. “Josh…”

That single word carried everything.

Permission for him to touch me, use me, wreck me till I forget I had a husband.

“You’re so responsive,” he said quietly, amused and hungry all at once. “It’s beautiful.”

I let out a shaky breath. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

“Of course I am.” he chuckled darkly.

His hands groped my ass, kneading and slowly spreading my ass cheeks.

A blush ran through my body. He could see my asshole from there.

The room felt smaller. Thicker. Charged.

His hands slid back up to my shoulders, squeezing firmly, grounding me just enough before he leaned in and whispered against my ear:

“If we keep going, Mrs Adams… there’s no pretending anymore.”

My body answered before my mouth could.

I shifted back into his touch.

And his low chuckle told me everything.

The game was officially over.