Broen Heart Therapy

I broke up with my boyfriend Troy six months ago when I caught him cheating on me with a pretty coed from his first year Psychology class. We'd been dating through our last year of high school and into his first year of college and I was pretty torn up about it for quite some time. Fortunately I was busy with courses of my own in massage therapy and managed to distract myself by putting in long hours. Once I began working for Janice at her spa I spent as much time as I could there, volunteering to work extra days, substituting for whoever phoned in sick. I've always found hard work to be the best cure for depression. Janice even trusted me to lock up for her on days I wanted to stay extra late.

Which is how I managed to meet someone very special several weeks back after a particularly long and tiresome day.

"Wait till you see who it is," Janice grinned as she walked out the door. "I'm sure you'll give him special treatment."

Janice knew what I'd been through the past few months and she was always trying to set me up with eligible and attractive young patrons of the spa. I figured this was another of her ploys to cheer me up.

My heart skipped a beat as I read the name on the file outside my cubicle door. It was Jay Dean, the lead singer of a local alternative band I was crazy about and had seen two or three times in the past few months in various venues. He was not only very talented and charismatic on stage, but he was also incredibly good-looking. As I entered the room I was in girly-crush mode and totally unsure what to expect.

Turned out he'd also had a long, tiresome day. A long, tiresome few weeks, actually, since his band was putting the finishing touches to their first EP and they were regularly working well into the night. He was exhausted and in a quite passive mood. He lay there almost naked, on his stomach with a towel over his rear and I wondered for the first few minutes if he was falling asleep.

But he responded to me in a sweet way, thanking me for staying so late and being very gracious as I told him what a fan I was and what his music had meant to me over the past few months. As I began working on him he asked me questions and I found myself talking about my break-up and depression.

"I know what that feels like," he said, something I found a bit hard to believe. "But your boyfriend must have been crazy cheating on someone as beautiful as you."

I was glad he couldn't see me blushing. I concentrated on working oil into his shoulders and back, not a little amazed at what terrific shape he was in. Musicians aren't exactly known for their healthy life-styles, but he was toned and tanned and completely free of tattoos, which surprised me. One small earring was his only piercing. As my fingers worked the muscles of his back and then his thighs and calves, I found myself getting physically aroused. This never happened with my regular clients, but this guy was just so special to me.

"Don't forget my ass. Don't be shy," he said at one point. "I really need the old glutes worked on. You've no idea what a work-out I get on stage some nights."

Again I was blushing. I'd purposely skipped over his butt to move down his legs. But now the idea of working on his naked ass was just too much to resist. I shyly removed his towel and was confronted by one of the cutest male butts I'd ever seen.

"What do you think?" he muttered, still sounding more than half asleep. "Do you approve?"

"You're beautiful. Your ... ass is beautiful," I responded, hardly believing I was saying this out loud.

I poured oil onto his buns and began massaging it into his taut, muscular flesh.

"Your hands are wonderful. You're very good at what you do," he said. "This is absolutely just what I needed."

I lost track of how long I worked on his ass, getting more and more turned on by the minute. I know that before long I was tracing a finger down along the crack of his ass and at one point, forgetting myself, I began probing the tight ring of his asshole.

"You can do that if you want," he muttered sleepily. "I don't mind."

I don't know what came over me. I couldn't help myself. I actually eased one finger gently into his asshole, as if I were giving him a prostate exam. I poked deeper, swirled my finger around, then withdrew quickly, my face flushed with embarrassment.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't really do that," I mumbled. "It's not part of the treatment."

"I loved it. It tells me a lot about you," he answered. "Do you mind if I turn over now?"

Without waiting for an answer he rolled onto his back and I was confronted by another amazing sight. His cock wasn't fully erect, but it was well on its way, and it was huge. A big, solid hunk of meat as thick as my forearm and maybe nine inches long. Its head was light purple and glistening and a dark blue vein pulsed down one side of it. It rolled across his lower belly and arced slightly upwards. I swear I could sense it throbbing as it continued its steady growth to erection.

He didn't say a word. Nor did I. I was doing my very best to keep up some professional decorum, even after probing his asshole. I began massaging his feet, of all things, smoothing oil along his ankles and between his toes.

"Why don't you open up your top?" he said at last. He was watching me now, seemingly fully awake, a gentle smile on his lips.

And I don't know what it was, but some crazy impulse was taking over. His request didn't seem at all outrageous to me. I unbuttoned my smock all the way to the waist and peeled it open enough to let him see my tits encased in a pale green bra.

"Take off your bra," he said softly. "I've got to see those big beautiful tits."

I'd already stepped way over the line by fingering his asshole. We were alone in the building. Without giving it a second thought I unhooked my bra's front clasp and tossed it to one side. I went back to work on him with my bare tits rolling about inside my open smock.

"Stunning," he muttered, gazing at my naked breasts. "Absolutely fucking stunning. 36C, right?"

"Close," I answered, blushing yet again.

I was fully aware of the game we were playing, and where this was leading, but I didn't care. I was with someone I'd had a girl-crush on for weeks, during one of the darker periods of my life. And I was enjoying myself immensely.

Keeping up the pretense, and pretending that we weren't probably going to end up having sex of some kind, I continued to use my hands on him, coating his upper thighs with oil and gently massaging it onto his muscles. I kept one eye on his cock, which was now swaying to the left and continuing to angle higher by slow degrees. And I let my fingers trace ever closer to the velvet sac of his balls, which seemed to throb gently in the crook of his thighs.

"You know what you're doing to me, of course," he muttered.

"I can see," I answered, continuing my slow, teasing work on his upper thighs, as if this were all a perfectly normal part of my massage routine.

I let my fingertips graze the lower swells of his bloated ball sac once, twice, three times. And then, ignoring his growing hard-on completely, I poured oil on his lower belly and smoothed it every which way as far down as his pubic hair. I purposely avoided touching his cock, acting as if I wasn't being confronted by one of the biggest, most mouth-watering pricks I'd ever seen. I was being such a tease. But I know he was enjoying this pre-sex game as much as I was. His cock twitched in mid-air and rolled back across his belly to angle up even higher.

"Why don't you come around here so you can do my chest," he instructed. He took one of my hands and led me around to his head, which, because the table was quite low, was now level with my crotch.

As I poured oil on his muscular chest and began to smooth it down his torso, he reached around and opened the last two buttons of my smock. Other than this item all I was wearing were my panties, and his face and mouth were now inches away from my crotch.

My fingers stroked oil down his chest, down his belly, till they were directly beneath the looming bulk of his massive hard-on. For now it really did appear fully erect, a thick, glistening pole of man-meat that pointed at an angle directly at my face.

"Take off your underpants," he instructed quietly. "I want to see your pretty pussy."

Again, all this seemed perfectly natural, a regular part of this extremely erotic game we were playing. I stood up and quickly slid my panties down and off. Then I went back to my massage work as if nothing out of the ordinary were occurring.

"A beautiful, sweet shaved pussy," he sighed. "I knew it would be shaved. I just knew it."

I was over my blushing phase by now. I was standing there naked but for my open smock, my tits heaving, my legs spread as I worked. I was glad, suddenly, that I'd continued shaving my pussy all these months after my break-up with Troy. I felt wanted, desired, by a very eligible and attractive young man. And I was having the time of my life.

My fingers were tracing so low now that I was almost touching the base of his cock. Each time I smoothed down, his prick heaved to one side or the other. I let my fingertips graze against the shaft once or twice and suddenly a fat pearl of pre-cum juice appeared at the tip and drooled down in a long elastic strand to his belly. That was when he tilted back his head between my legs and flicked out his tongue to scrape up the widening slit of my cunt.

I felt myself grow weak in the knees. A quiver of pleasure shot all the way through me. And suddenly all pretense was gone and I was curling my oily fingers around his hard-on and squeezing. My whole body heaved forward, and my mouth was folding over his purple cockhead.

I took in as much as I could at one gulp, easing his cockhead partway down my throat. Then I began a vigorous sucking motion, driving my mouth up and down on the top part of his cock. My left hand cupped his balls and gently squeezed and massaged the bloated sac. My right hand gripped the base of his dick and harshly shucked up and down.

My legs were spread as wide as possible. I let my weight settle my gaping cunt onto his face. And he was licking and slurping at the folds of my pussy, probing deep one second then diddling my swollen clit with the tip of his tongue the next. Sweet sensations rippled through me and I realized I was going to come in record time. Something about having his massive cock plowing in and out of my mouth only speeded up the process.

His hands had reached around to clutch at my taut ass cheeks. His fingers mauled and kneaded my buns, pulling me even more harshly onto his slurping face. Wet, squishy sounds were coming up from my crotch. I'm sure I was soaking his poor face with wads of pussy juice. How he was managing to breathe I had no idea.

It didn't last long, of course. We were both just too damned excited. I began to whimper around his cock as my climax surged and wave after wave of sweet orgasm exploded inside me. The sounds grew even wetter from my crotch and I think I was squirting my climax all over his face.

And that was when a huge wad of semen hit the roof of my mouth and filled it to capacity. Fuck, what a blast it was! It damn near knocked my head off. And I simply had to pull off his cock or choke. As his cockhead slipped from my lips I felt the mass of semen overflow and roll down my chin. Creamy sperm was pouring from my mouth in a mini-torrent and dangling from my chin in thick elastic strands.

His cock seemed to recoil in my fist. My one hand still squeezed his balls, coaxing up his sperm, the other jerked the base of his prick in a steady motion. And his cockhead rested for a moment on my lower lip. Which was when it began spurting jet after jet of thick creamy spunk all over my gasping face.

I felt one ribbon of cum shoot up the left side of my face and seal shut my eye before hooking in my hair. A second jet fountained up the right side of my face and blinded my other eye. Then there were a series of wet slaps on my cheeks, my forehead, my eyelids, as streamer after streamer escaped his cock. It seemed like he came for about ten minutes.

And all the while I was still coming myself, in a weird extended climax that seemed never ending. Maybe having a guy shoot semen all over my face while I came added to my excitement. Whatever it was, I just revelled in it, never wanting it to stop. Sweet, climactic sensations rippling through me while my face was drenched in sperm, what could be better?

Eventually of course he stopped spurting and my climax faded, but I still lay there on top of him, my gaping cunt mashed onto his face, his huge cock resting, calm at last, alongside my splattered face. It was as if we never wanted to separate, to dislodge ourselves from this awesome, shattering sex session.

When I finally climbed up and off him it was more to give him a chance to breathe than anything.

"Holy fuck, that was amazing! I haven't had sex like that in I don't know how long," he gasped.

But then he caught sight of me as I turned to face him.

"Oh your poor face! I'm so sorry!" he grinned.

"Don't apologize. I enjoyed it," I spluttered with my sperm-clogged mouth. "And I heard semen is really good for the complexion. Full of nutrients."

He laughed. "You're fantastic. And I must confess that this is one of my dirtiest fantasies fulfilled."

"What, exactly?"

"Spraying a beautiful girl's face with cum. That last girlfriend I was telling you about, she totally refused to let me do that to her. Said it was undignified. As if there's anything dignified about sex between consenting adults. She even refused to shave her crotch. Going down on her was like eating pussy through a scouring pad. Fuck what a prude she was. But you! I get the feeling you'd be up for anything."

"Pretty much," I conceded.

I hadn't thought about it much, but I was beginning to suspect he was right. Hadn't I just proved it? I'd just had amazing oral sex with a guy I'd just met. And I'd loved every second of it. The long, teasing foreplay, the actual sucking, the amazing wet climax, not to mention my own shattering orgasm. It had been great! And I wanted more! Since my break-up with Troy so many months back I'd been moping around feeling sorry for myself. And all the time there was thrilling, exhilarating sexual experience out there for the taking. I wanted it! It felt good! It felt liberating!

"You must have dirty fantasies too," he went on. "What are they? I want to know."

"I'll tell you if I get to know you better."

"Oh come on, just one fantasy, as a teaser."

"Well, I've just fulfilled one too. Sucking off a sexy rock musician."

He laughed again, then grew suddenly serious. "I've got to see you again. Are you free tomorrow night? Can you come by the house?"

"The house?"

"We have this house rental, the band and I, while we're in town recording. The record company pays for it. It's ours till we hit the road this weekend. Tomorrow the rest of the guys are recording late, after I've done some vocals. I won't be needed. I'll be all alone in the house. Come by around ten. We'll have some more fun."

How could I resist? My heart-throb and I, all alone for an evening. Who knew what we might get up to? I said I'd be delighted. We exchanged phone numbers and next day he texted me an address in a rather nice part of town. I had hours to prepare, after my day at the spa, a day not nearly as exciting as the one I'd just experienced, I might add, and I took special pains getting ready.

I've always been fond of erotic underwear, and so I wore a black mini-dress with no bra or underpants, just a black garter belt and black silk stockings. I wore dark eye shadow and lurid red lipstick and felt especially sluttish as I left my apartment. I knew I wasn't going on a real date. I was going out to get fucked. It was a sweet, exhilarating feeling. I felt free of Troy for the first time in weeks.

Which was of course the very moment he chose to phone me after months of silence. I was tempted to ignore the call but then pulled over to the side of the road to hear what he had to say. No matter what it was, I thought, I was in a much better frame of mind to deal with it than I'd been even twenty four hours ago.

He really wanted to see me again, he said. He'd missed me terribly and wanted to talk things over.

"What things?" I asked him.

"You know. Us. We were so good together, weren't we?"

"We were. Once upon a time. What about what's-her-name?"

"Jen? She's nice enough. I like her a lot. But she's not you. She's just not you."

After the last twenty four hours I wasn't sure I was me either, anymore. I was different. I had changed, in some fundamental way. And though I had no illusions about anything permanent coming out of my sex sessions with Jay, I wasn't sure I wanted to get back together with Troy. I just wasn't that interested.

"Can I see you tonight?" he went on.

I was tempted to say I was on my way to meet a sexy, well-hung musician whom I'd done sixty-nine with the previous day, that I was probably going to suck him off or fuck him at the very least and who knew what else besides, but I didn't. I just said I was busy but I'd maybe meet him in the next day or so if he was that desperate to see me. Then I drove on to Jay's house in the hills.

It was quite the place, not overly large, but isolated in its own grounds. For the record company to let a bunch of young musicians use the place unsupervised said a lot about the faith they had in the guys involved. I guess maybe they saw a future for the group and an ultimate return on their investment. But I wasn't visiting to interview their lead singer and enquire about his group's prospects. I was showing up to get fucked.

Jay met me at the door dressed in a shirt and tie, of all things. Turned out he'd had an earlier meeting with one of the record company executives, something about the itinerary for the upcoming mini-tour. He hadn't had time to change. And he'd been busy making preparations for my visit. He'd fixed a light supper for the two of us, complete with a couple of bottles of champagne. I was very impressed.

"You did all this for me?" I gasped as he led me to the dining room. The beautifully prepared table was actually candle-lit.

"I did. Even though I was half afraid you wouldn't show."

"Wouldn't show? You thought I might stand you up?"

"I didn't know for sure. When I thought about it, and I've thought about nothing but you for the past twenty four hours, I realized how much I took advantage of you yesterday."

"You didn't take advantage of me! If anything the opposite is true. Everything that happened between us I wanted to happen."

He smiled and poured me a glass of champagne.

"I'm glad. I just felt so bad about, you know, coming in your face."

"I loved it. It was one of the most exciting things that's ever happened to me. Don't apologize for what happens during sex between two consenting adults. Things happen spontaneously. It's all part of the fun. I hope there's more unpredictable stuff to come between us."

"Me too. Me too," he grinned.

And we sat down to our supper and polished off glass after glass of the bubbly.

"You look stunning," he said at one point, putting down his glass. "So sexy."

Neither one of us was eating much. I think we were just both too excited about what was in store. We were hungry for sex, not food.

"Maybe we could eat later," I suggested, standing up.

I moved around the table till I was standing right in front of him. Then I slipped the straps of my dress off my shoulders and let it fall to my hips. I stood there for a second, naked from the waist up, my tits a foot or two from his face. Then I spread my legs and raised my dress to straddle him. I sat in his lap and leaned forward. His arms circled me and his mouth sank down on one of my distended nipples. I could feel the hot bulk of his cock erecting beneath me.