Wednesday, August 14, 2013

Lay Your Hands On Me

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Yes, this encounter includes a massage, just like my story of the same name, but this one ends differently. It begins differently too.


On a Sunday night, I, minding my business, checked my phone and saw 3 new text messages from George*.They'd been sent almost 2 hours prior. I was in another room yucking it up with friends and hadn't heard my phone ring.


I turned down George's invite to go over to his place. It was late and I had settled in to do some writing for the night. He revealed he was alone and figured he'd ask anyway. No harm, no foul. I teased him that he was gonna guilt me into saying yes but I really had to do my writing. If things were different on my end I would've just invited him over.


Text from George: No problem. just come here :)


I told him I wouldn't get much writing done at his place. For one of the few times in my life I didn't mean that with any adult or sexual undertone. I figured it would be like the first night George and I met and I went over to his place -- we'd sit and talk, he'd play his instruments, we'd sip on orange juice, he'd light up, we'd discuss art and the artist's life...


That's not what he had in mind this time.


Text from George: Haha yes this is true but you would receive a nice massage :)


GASP


I literally gasped and texted ::::GASP:::: to him. What was happening? We met for the first time 5 nights before and he made nary a flirty remark. I put him in the "new guy I just met who could definitely be a friend" category. So be it. We got along really well. The conversation was fluid and unbelievably comfortable. He told me he loves documentaries yet I didn't write him off as "boring".


Our exchange that Sunday night went as follows, with intermittent texts to a girl friend who urged me to go over to his place ASAP or to send him to her place:


George: Come enjoy it! I'm good with my hands :)


Me: I don't doubt that you are. You play instruments.


Have I fantasized about being "played like a stand up bass? Yes. Had I fantasized about George playing me like a stand up bass? No.


George: I will massage your whole body


Me: You're gonna wear me down...
 Or make me regret being responsible tonight


George: Massages are hard to come by! You should take advantage. I will get my room ready for you


Welp. That was that. He'd made our decision for me. I let him know I was gonna take a quick shower.


George: Just come. You can hop in the shower here


It was 11:22 PM


I got to his place at 5 to midnight. It was the usual meet and greet -- hug hello, how's it going, how was your day. We head upstairs to his apartment and he fills me in on the documentary on Marvin Gaye he was watching, now paused on the TV screen.


"So you wanna shower?"


"Yeah, I figure that's the polite thing to do," I said.


The bathroom was clean. The towel he gave me fluffy. That shower brought me down to the optimal level of pre-massage relaxation.


I took some time to find the sweet spot on his bed where my body wouldn't sink in too much under the pressure of his massage. He apologized for not having a table acknowledging that the bed was not the best place.


Now listen, he gave me an actual massage. It wasn't like he touched my shoulder two times and went for the kill. He massaged my body, worked on the kinks and knots. We made small talk in the beginning then I soaked it all in. Our silence was charged. "Are you sleeping?" he asked after a few minutes. I had to assure him I was enjoying his treat, the endorphins his touch released.


"I'm not a professional," he defended. He didn't have to be a professional; his intent was enough for a great massage. He was intuitive and genuinely wanted to massage me. That made his gift to me great. As I sunk deeper into a relaxed state under his touch, when his fingers found tender spots on my body it became more apparent how needed the massage was. I deserved it.


He removed the towel to work on my glutes and hamstrings I thought for sure, here it comes, but no. The man gave me a massage. When he was finished with my butt he moved on to my calves.


I was turned on by this point. Touch does that. Touch certain parts of me and you'll flip the switch sooner.


George massaged me back and front. He worked my pecs and arms. I resisted the urge to hold his hands when he massaged mine. He kneaded my muscular quads. I noticed his touch became stronger on my inner thighs. His touch was feathery over my nipples. His breath was now audible. My breath was heavy.


George made his move. I didn't sneak a peek at him. The sensation of his finger sliding over my clit... no lube necessary. I heard him react when he felt how wet I was. His touch was soothing when necessary and arousing when it mattered. My knees went in opposite directions and I went with the flow. Will this be my first happy ending massage...where I'm the recipient? That's when I felt his tongue so the answer to that question was 'yes'.


We didn't stop at my happy ending. Rather, I didn't stop there. George is a grower with an amazing curve and a hot tongue. :::::GASP:::::



"Are you clean?" he asked. I paused the fellatio and told him yes, that I get checked regularly. "Good, that's very important to me," he said.


He rolled on that Magnum and told me to climb on.


He "complained" I was finding his spots too quickly. We switched to missionary position so he could be in control or rather, control himself better. I was introduced to George version Sex point 0. He was powerful and aware of his power. I know what you want, while teasing me with just tip. Lemme know if I hurt you babe, before entering from behind.


FADE TO BLACK


His therapeutic, sensual touch which he shared with me.
My body which I allowed him to touch and enjoy.
If we hadn't had sex, the bond that was created through his massage alone was sufficient for an amazing evening.


I was totally caught off guard by George that night; more than what happened, the intensity of what happened, the ease of what happened.  During the cab ride home, a highlight reel of the gripping, the splashing, his expression at the moments he was caught off guard, played on loop in my head.  


I text George the following Tuesday after having a flashback.


Me: I'm still pleasantly surprised by Sun night


George: Aww you enjoyed yourself :) me too!


Yes, I did.



*Yeah, that's not his real name.




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