Massage My Wife Tumblr Novels & Stories

She laughs, shaking her head. “You win…” Warren picks up a voucher from the top of the stack. “A couple’s massage at the spa!” She blinks. A couple’s massage? What does that… entail, exactly? She’s never had a massage before. What, in particular, makes it a couple’s massage? She has many questions. None of which she can ask Warren. Or anyone, actually. She’ll need to search it up on Naver later. She forces herself to smile. “Thank you,” she tells Warren, walking up to collect her voucher. “That sounds… lovely.”

It was still very new to me but I couldn't let my shyness take away my husband. "There laid my Goddess in her full glory. I want to stare at you forever." His words echoed in the room and they sent sensations in my body. He took slow steps in my direction, his eyes lingering on my body. They were as dark as the stormy clouds. "Focus on the massage, Brandon." I reminded him. "How can you expect me to focus on the massage when my wife is looking so delicious and feasible. I want to make love to you but I know your body isn't ready." He said and covered my ass with the towel and unclasped my bra, it fell off my body.

"Please get on the bed, let's start." After a session of warm massage, she started to concentrate on my boobs, rubbing and smooching. "Ma'am?" "Yes? I want to help you relax, also, he helps make your boobs firm." What was she up to? She was making me horny for heaven's sake! The doorbell bell rang out! Fuck! Who could it be? Jason? I disappeared from the bed immediately when the lady went to the door. "You are taking so much time, where is my wife!' My husband hurled.

He snapped and I started once again. "Have you ever worked as a masseuse? You have surprisingly good hands." He groaned satisfactorily and a shadow of a smile appeared on my face. "When I was younger, I used to massage my father whenever he comes back from work and he's tired. I'm not a professional." I answered. "You could pass for a professional at this rate." He said and my smile widened. "Thank you." I responded when I didn't know what to say. A few minutes passed and I was still massaging his shoulder and upper part of his back. I was secretly enjoying the feel of his body and tattoos but that shouldn't be happening, should it? I'm his freaking prisoner even though I'm somehow his wife

Kneeling, I rubbed the cream between my palms and started massaging his shoulders, then worked my way down his back. He groaned deeply, eyes closing in pleasure. “That feels good.” I pressed carefully into the sore muscles around his neck and spine, working out the knots. His breathing grew heavier. I leaned close to his ear, whispering, “It’s just a massage. Why do you look so worked up?” He was breathing hard now. I could see the obvious bulge under his towel. “You know exactly what you’re doing, woman.” “I’m just trying to help you, husband. What did I do wrong?” I laughed softly.

"Yasmin, why aren't you replying to me? Did you really go to visit him?" "Remember to come to me tonight. I've bought your favorite red wine." He sent a shirtless photo of himself, showing a hint of his abs. Yasmin glanced at it and swiped it away with a deadpan expression. But she accidentally tapped on the trending topic. The screen was filled with topics of Tommy getting female escorts while his wife was pregnant. All kinds of comments flooded the screen. "Is this guy sick? He's messing around with women while his wife is pregnant. How disgusting!"

The heavy outline of his thick cock swung between his legs like a challenge. Mark’s face turned red instantly. “What the fuck is this?” I smiled sweetly at my husband. “Just a massage, honey. Since you’re always so busy ‘working late’ with your secretaries, I thought I deserved to be touched by a real man for once.” Jax set up his portable table right in the middle of the living room, smirking the entire time. He looked me up and down like I was already naked. “Take off everything except your thong, beautiful,” he said, voice deep and rough. “I want full access.”

The massage studio was quiet. There was some quiet instrumental music playing. Mara hadn’t wanted to come here. It was her husband’s idea though. He booked her a deep tissue session to “relieve her stress.” But she knew it was because she had complained that he was always late, always busy, and always handing her off to someone else. Like how he just handed her off to the massage studio. She lay face down on the table, her blouse folded neatly on a chair, and her bra was unclasped under the towel. She felt exposed already with bare back.

My mind was blank. 'When are you coming over? I miss you.' 'You're in heat again, huh? Wait for me in the room. I'm going to take you when I'm done with work.' 'Don't go too hard. It was swollen the last time and wouldn't go down even after hours.' 'How did you explain it to your husband?' 'Couldn't tell him it was a mosquito bite, could I? Told him the doctor said I had a bit of a lump and gave me a bit of acupuncture. The lump's in the process of going down.'

“Honestly? Not much lately. I used to love yoga, but even that fell off. Tried dating apps after the breakup, but everyone seems so… superficial. How about you? Being a massage therapist must be rewarding helping people unwind every day.” “It is,” she replied, her palms gliding down my back now, long smooth strokes that sent little waves of relief through me. “I love seeing clients leave lighter. But it’s intense work too. My hands get a workout, and sometimes I take the stress home with me. These long dark curls don’t help when I’m bent over tables all day.” She laughed lightly, and I could hear the smile in her voice.