Last night, I went to a beautiful establishment for a massage, something I had done many times before. Once a week, I treat myself to a pleasant massage. There was a new masseur yesterday evening. The receptionist asked whether I mind his being my masseuse, and I agreed because one masseur is as good as another for me. The masseur was a good-looking man who wasn't a Greek god but was well-built. As usual, I stripped, and he placed a towel over me. The massage was scheduled to last an hour and twenty minutes, and he began by slathering oil on my feet and stroking them. 

As time passed, he moved up towards my thighs, parting them slightly to "massage better," which surprised me. But I didn't say anything since his fingertips felt great. He was a professional, I reasoned, and he knew what he was doing. Strangely, he began calling me "madam" for nearly half an hour before abruptly whispering for me to flip over. I glanced around and noticed he was tense. As for me, let's just say I was in the correct state of mind. He moved his hand over my breasts and looked me in the eyes. He moved down to my pubic region and massaged it. 

He then proceeded on to my thighs, releasing the muscles and nerves near my knees and inner thighs. He then moved to my feet, and I felt him rub against my outside-the-bed hand. I felt something really stiff against him as he leaned against me. I recognized then that the massage had been slightly eroticized, and I was not stupid. He went on for a while, and after 60 minutes, he asked me where I wanted him to focus his attention. "My back," I responded, and he flipped me over. I felt him lean over me, his chest on my back. My estrogen levels were already increasing, and I was already sensitized. He then stroked the towel with his hands. I began to tremble at that moment, and he paused for a second. 

But then he pressed his finger against my skin. I was speechless and had no idea what to do. I was split between allowing him to continue and considering the scenario to be unpleasant. I then tilted my head, rotated my hips slightly, and looked him in the eyes. He returned my gaze, removed his hand, and knelt alongside me, profusely apologizing. He claimed he had no idea what had happened to him, that he was an idiot, and begged forgiveness. I assured him that I would not say anything to anyone. He then massaged my feet, and I nodded, and he raised my leg and kissed my toes. "OK, I'm going to get dressed now," I said, spreading my legs. 


