Backdoor Massage Novels & Stories

“Execute a full lateral rotation.” “State your objective,” I demanded, though my body instinctively obeyed the command, shifting my back toward his chest. “Banish the analytical tracking from your mind. Close your eyes.” His massive, warm palms settled directly over my lower lumbar region. He initiated a firm, rhythmic massage across the strained muscle groups. His enforcers had previously delivered report files indicating that after the extraction of a third heir, a wolf’s lower back sustained an extreme degree of chronic soreness. His blade was incapable of physically absorbing the structural pain on my behalf, leaving manual therapy as his solitary path to relieve the tension.

Chad sensed my doubt and unhurriedly explained, "The herbal tea you just drank needs to be guided down into your core. That's the only way it'll work." With that, he placed one hand on my neck. His other palm gently glided downward until he was pressing against my chest, and something in my throat was pushed into my stomach. Perhaps it was the medicine kicking in, but a slow heat began to gather in my lower abdomen. Still, Chad's techniques felt far from professional. He cupped his hands over my bare chest and kneaded with a firm pressure.

She: Yeah… Me: No wonder, you did that so well… She: Thanks… Me: **Licking my lower lips** Ehmm, I kinda have some pain in my lower back o… Is there anything you can do to relieve it? She: Why not? That’s my job. Or it used to be my job… Don’t worry, let’s finish eating… Me: ** 8) 8) ** The thought of a hot lady like Rejoice giving me a private massage (in my room) sent electric brain wave signals to my mamba and it was beginning to activate itself. ** 😮 Wait o, I said no straffing this night na!!** I quickly ate up and told her I had to complete that article before the massage and she said it was fine by her…..

He kneads the entire of my breasts, base to tip, squeezing with just enough pressure to make me arch. Back to my pussy. He spreads my oily folds with one hand, exposing my clit and entrance. Oil drops into my pussy, and his fingers circle my clit in light, feathery touches that build an orgasm. Then his fingers slide along my slit, up and down, before slipping easily, deep in my cunt. “Ohhh…what type of massage is that?” I ask as I play with my nipples, biting my lip. "Internal massage, little one. Very much necessary," he says, as if it’s standard. He presses in and out, pumping gently, scissoring to stretch my pussy folds apart.

“Just breathe, Emily. Let me take care of you.” He poured more warm oil and moved lower, massaging my mid-back. The scent of lavender filled the room. His hands felt so good that I was starting to relax despite how wrong this felt. Then his hands moved even lower. He massaged my lower back, right above my ass, pressing and kneading. I bit my lip. Slowly, his oiled hands slid over my ass cheeks, massaging them firmly through the thin silk. My breathing became heavier. He continued down to my thighs, his strong fingers working the muscles. Then, as he was stroking the inside of my thigh, his slippery hand “slipped” higher.

His head tilts slightly, but he doesn’t react, doesn’t flinch. The silence stretches, heavy, charged, and I feel the bond between us pulling me closer. My hands move slower, more deliberate, tracing the lines of his muscles. His scent, something wild fills my lungs. And I can’t help but trace every detail of his back as I felt the skin. “Arh,” he murmurs out a groan. I paused and swallowed again. My mother had taught me how to massage. Focusing on every part of the joints especially the waist. She’s tried it on me multiple times and I felt so so. Using that technique of Alaric would help him relax right?

It’s either that or go broke, so while I’m here, I might as well try to enjoy myself. I take a deep breath and do my best to relax. Anthony’s hands move down my spine to my lower back. This is usually the part where the person giving the massage tickles the person receiving the massage by wrapping their fingers around the person’s sides while they apply pressure with their thumbs. I’m shocked when Anthony avoids this mistake entirely. He positions his hands perfectly, and as he presses down with his thumbs, I’m unable to stop the groan of satisfaction that pushes its way out from my lips.

In the exclusive private spa of the city’s most sought-after masseur, 38 years Marcus offers more than just relaxation. His hands are legendary for melting tension and unlocking deep, hidden desires. When Ryan the high strung executive client books a late night deep tissue session, Marcus quickly discovers that Ryan’s body is carrying far more than work stress. What begins as professional massage quickly turns into raw, sensual exploration... slow, oily strokes, deep tissue release, and intense full-body sessions that leave both men craving more. In the quiet, dimly lit treatment room, boundaries dissolve as professional touch becomes deeply intimate, possessive, and addictive.

I grabbed the bottle, headed back out to the bedroom. "Can you touch your toes?" I asked her. Her face screwed up in confusion. "Huh?" I rolled my eyes at her. "Can you touch your toes?" I enunciated each word carefully. She nodded as she glared at me. "Fine. Then tell me what you want to wear to bed. I'll get it for you. You can put it on under your dress. When you're set, take your dress off. I just need to be able to get to your thighs. Humans have large pockets of lymph nodes in their groins and behind their knees. We're going to be forcing both into overtime with this massage."

It was all I could do to keep my hard-on under control. After she sat on the floor, I sat on the couch behind her and told her to scooch back. I put my hands on her stout shoulders, massaging the knots from her tense neck and upper back muscles. As time went on, I got a little more daring, slipping my hands under her shirt and caressing and kneading her middle and upper back.