Interracial Massage Novels & Stories

But God, it felt so right. "There's a technique called internal massage therapy," Marcus explained, his fingers curling inside her to hit that perfect spot. "It releases tension that can't be reached externally. Very effective for comprehensive treatment." "Oh God," Elena moaned, her hands gripping the sides of the massage table. "Let yourself feel it," Marcus instructed. "Don't fight the release." His fingers worked faster, harder, and Elena felt the orgasm building impossibly fast. She hadn't come this easily in years. David never took the time, never knew how to touch her like this.

I don’t want to scare her away by telling her I was being followed. “Okay, we will just reschedule,” she tells me before hanging up. For someone who knows everything about me, I know so little about her. We have been planning for six months and I am not even sure if Rowan is her real name. I close my eyes and allow myself to continue enjoying the massage. “Ma’am, we are done,” the masseuse says. Her voice is as delicate as her fingers. I open my eyes. It is almost six in the evening.

She started having a headache and thought that she was going to faint. Finally, her journey ends and she reach home. Before she could get out, she needed to fix herself to look the way before she got into the car. So, she wipes her tears from her cheeks, but they were unstoppable. She wipes her tears again and cuts the engine. She gets out of the car and sees Aaron's car. He had Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren Roadster; it was so beautiful. Everybody loved his car and of course Sara as well. She walks toward Aaron's car and he lowers his window's mirror.

The masseuse arrived an hour after they got home and by then, Zoe was taking a nap while the bodyguards had returned to their quarters in the other compound. The lady was biracial with her afro curls piled up in a big bun on her head. Her caramel skin glowed like polished brass and her pretty face reminded Rachel of a porcelain doll. She was dressed in a grey-colored uniform showing the name of the company she worked for above the breast pocket. “Hi, my name is Kira from Fantasy Spa. I’m here for your massage appointment,” she said.

There were no special services even offered to these clients. Thursday only had one client for Hao. They shared the massage and Russ did the fingering. Russ watched Kim massage two male clients. Saturday morning was busy. Russ, under Hao's direction, did the first massage with no specials. Client number two got four-hands then oral from Hao as she blew Russ. The last two of the morning got four-hands and fingering using Russ.

His voice dripped with sarcasm. Ignoring his remark, I knelt beside his wheelchair and gently placed my hands on his leg. Two years of studying under Master Elara had taught me various massage techniques for healing and pain relief. "I know how to do this properly," I said, carefully applying pressure to his calf muscle. "I learned therapeutic massage in the Sunstone Territories." His leg was rigid beneath my touch, the muscle knotted with tension. I worked methodically, feeling the tissue gradually soften under my fingers. "Will you be able to stand again?" I asked quietly, concentrating on a particularly tight knot.

After one restless week in my room, it was finally time for my next treatment. I dragged myself to the clinic, feeling tense all over. I walked with my legs tightly pressed together so that my arousal wouldn't leak down my thighs. Finally, I arrived at the bone-setting clinic. It was the same therapist as before, and this time, I asked him for his name—Henry Irwin. Henry didn't seem self-conscious at all. When I arrived, he immediately reached out to massage my breasts.

Everything was white, serene, endlessly luxurious. Then the St. James women entered. Within ten minutes: Genevieve questioned the massage therapist’s credentials (“Do you have experience with decades of trauma or just knots?”) Mercedes fell asleep during her steam facial and scared the staff. Abigail requested a fertility-boosting massage and freaked out when the therapist said, “We’ll focus on your womb energy.” Ruth prayed quietly during her deep tissue massage (“Lord, please don't let this woman crack my spine like a glow stick.”)

Clement, direct Lady Philips to the massage therapist. We've discussed and she craves for facial and Thai massage. Tell Job, the masseur that the client who booked an apartment for microdermabrasion at 2pm might arrive soon. The medical history of Lady Philips has been compiled and cursorily checked , she's fit for the therapy she requested and its appropriate for her current health status. " Bambi Amah Solanke rattled off quickly, a headgear rested on her round face and chubby neck; her dress glittering with great splendour as the hem brushed the frame of the standing young man in blue T-shirt with Ronbi beautifully inscribed at its back. Bambi tilted her neck, beaming and revealing a set

"This is much more entertaining." We stood there, smiling at each other, sharing the absurdity of the moment. The tension of the secrets and the lies seemed to evaporate in the face of the shared ridiculousness. We were a team. A weird, dysfunctional, secret team. And I liked it. The Massage "Now, partner massage," Martha announced. "Tension relief is critical during transition. Partners, find those pressure points in the shoulders and lower back." We sat back down on the mat. Aria sat cross-legged, her back to me again.