Massage From Mar

Lisa pulled into the lot and parked in front of the massage parlor. It had been three years since her last visit--right after she'd helped her sister with the youngest child. That massage had been a gift from her sister, and the experience had stayed with her ever since. The woman who'd worked on her back then was incredible. Lisa had wanted to return ever since, but between running her own business and helping raise her sister's kids, time had slipped away.

She flipped down the visor mirror for a quick check. Her light brown hair hung straight to her shoulders, framing a thin face with striking green eyes. She took pride in her appearance. Whenever possible, she'd hop on the stationary bike or squeeze in a run--even during work meetings when she could just listen.

Despite the chaos of life, she thought she'd managed to stay in decent shape. By most men's standards, her figure was more than appealing. Curvy in the right places, a C-cup chest that had begun to show just a hint of age, toned arms, and what she considered very sexy legs. She missed the abs she'd had in college, but everything else still looked good. "Perfect," according to the men she occasionally picked up at bars. At 33, Lisa still turned heads the moment she walked into a room.

Satisfied there were no food particles in her teeth, Lisa stepped out of the car and walked into the massage parlor. A young woman sat behind the front desk and greeted her with a friendly smile.

"Hello! How can I help you?"

Lisa returned the smile. "Lisa Morelle. I have a 4:00 appointment with Jennifer."

The receptionist's expression faltered slightly. "Ah--unfortunately, Jennifer had to leave this afternoon. Her child got sick. Let me double-check that we have someone else lined up for you." She turned to the computer and began typing.

Now it was Lisa's turn to frown. She had waited three years to come back--specifically for Jennifer's magical hands. Her mind flipped to the calendar at home. When would she even have another chance to reschedule?

The receptionist looked up from the screen. "It looks like the only masseuse available this afternoon is Mark. He's new to our team, but I don't think his schedule will stay open for long..." She gave Lisa a sly glance and added with a wink, "He's also pretty easy on the eyes."

Lisa sighed. She didn't care what Mark looked like. She just wanted Jennifer. But as she mentally ran through her schedule--upcoming work deadlines, her sister's kids starting spring sports--nothing opened up.

"Fine," she said with a reluctant exhale. "He'll do, I guess."

The receptionist smiled and stood, gesturing toward a nearby door before heading toward it herself. "If you'll follow me, please."

Lisa followed the receptionist down a quiet hallway to the last door on the right, which stood open, inviting her in. A soft scent of eucalyptus lingered in the air--subtle and soothing. Gentle accent lighting glowed from behind a few strategically placed plants in the corners, casting a mellow warmth throughout the room. It felt peaceful, comforting--just what she needed.

The woman stepped inside and gestured toward a bench. "Mark will be with you in a few moments. Feel free to wait here," she said, then exited, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

Lisa exhaled and shrugged off her coat, hanging it neatly on the hook beside the door. She slipped off her heels and placed them on the floor beneath her coat, setting her purse beside them. Turning toward the massage table, she ran her fingers across the surface as she approached. The fabric was soft--almost warm to the touch. She gave herself a little mental pep talk: This will still be a good massage.

A knock on the door broke the quiet. It opened to reveal a tall, muscular man with dark brown hair, warm skin--almost Samoan in tone--and a tight-fitting shirt paired with board shorts. He smiled and extended a large hand.

"Hello, I'm Mark. I'll be your masseuse today."

Lisa reached out and shook his hand. It was warm and firm. And yes--very attractive. The receptionist hadn't been exaggerating. "Nice to meet you. I'm Lisa," she replied, withdrawing her hand.

Mark moved with smooth confidence to the dresser against the wall, opening a drawer. "Here are a couple of towels for you to use," he said, placing them on the table. Mark turned back to the dresser, pulled out a long lighter, and began lighting the candles arranged around the room. "Any specific areas you'd like me to focus on today?"

Lisa watched him move--his biceps flexed beneath the sleeves of his shirt as he worked. He was easy on the eyes. "No, not really," she said. "Just looking for a full-body workover."

Mark glanced at her, his eyes briefly flicking downward before returning to her face. "No problem," he said smoothly. As he lit the final candle, he added, "In that case, take your time getting ready. Just call out when you're on the table. We'll start with your back, so please lie face down."

With that, he gave her a polite nod and stepped out, closing the door behind him.

Lisa tried to stay optimistic as she undressed. She had really been looking forward to Jennifer's expert touch. As she slipped off her blouse, it struck her--this new masseuse was a young, attractive man who would soon be running his hands over her body. Self-consciously, she glanced down at her bra and stomach. I should've worn the red one, she thought, noticing she'd defaulted to a plain, cream-colored bra.

Just as quickly, she shook the thought away. I don't even know this guy, she reminded herself. No reason to worry about giving him a better view. She slid off her slacks, folded them neatly, and placed them alongside her blouse and shoes on a small table.

Lisa walked over to the massage table and laid down, draping one of the towels over her plain underwear. The other towel she left folded--there was no need for it as she positioned her face in the cradle at the end of the table.

"Ready," she called out, trying to relax her arms at her sides.

Mark reentered the room and made his way to the dresser. Soft music began to play--gentle waves and ambient jungle sounds. It reminded Lisa of Costa Rica, and the family vacation they'd taken there a few years ago.

He approached from the side, and she could just make out his legs and feet beneath the table--muscular calves, tanned skin, and well-kept feet in simple sandals. He really is gorgeous, she thought as her eyes followed the movement of his lower body. He was too tall for her to see beyond his knees, which, oddly, disappointed her.

Again, she mentally scolded herself--Tsk. Get a hold of yourself, Lisa.

"I'd like to start with your feet and legs," Mark said calmly. "Please let me know if anything feels uncomfortable or if you'd like more or less pressure." He moved about the room, adjusting something, and after a moment Lisa realized he was buckling on a belt that held various massage oils.

"All set, Ms. Lisa?" he asked, voice polite but warm.

Lisa smiled at the semi-formal phrasing. "Yes, Mr. Mark. Please proceed."

Mark moved quietly to the foot of the table, disappearing from Lisa's view. A moment later, she heard the soft click of a pump before the warmth of scented oil touched the back of her left calf. She inhaled sharply at the sensation, her skin immediately responding to the contrast between the cool air and the heated liquid.

Then came his hands--broad, sure, practiced. They glided over her calf with confident pressure, his fingers wrapping easily around the muscle as his thumbs kneaded in smooth, circular motions. He moved deliberately up to her ankle, the oil allowing his touch to flow like water.

When his hands reached her foot, they moved with equal precision--fingertips skimming the arch, thumbs pressing into the sole. He worked each toe gently, like a musician tuning an instrument, and Lisa felt her breath deepen, her muscles melt.

She closed her eyes and exhaled a quiet, involuntary sigh. For the first time in days, her thoughts stilled, this was exactly what she needed.

Mark gently set her foot back down on the table, and Lisa realized she hadn't even noticed when he'd lifted it. The soothing rhythm of oil being dispensed filled the quiet room once more, just before his hands began the same attentive work on her right calf, gliding up to her ankle and then her foot. Again, Lisa felt herself melt into the experience. He's better than Jennifer, she mused, surprised by the thought.

After placing her foot back on the table, Mark reached for more oil. This time, his hands moved higher--starting at her right thigh, just above the knee. With practiced pressure, he began to work the warm oil into her skin. His strong hands moved slowly up and down her thigh, fingers nearly encircling it as he massaged. As he continued, the oil traveled with him, pushed steadily further along her leg by the motion of his skilled hands.

To her embarrassment, Lisa felt herself become aroused as Mark's hands worked further up her leg. Soon his hands were running just under the towel covering her ass.

She found herself wishing and wanting his hands to go further. He obliged, his palm going between her legs, not quite to her cunt, but far enough that it was very pleasurable. His fingers ran up to the base of her ass, right where the muscles of her ass met the muscles of her legs.

Mark's hands left her skin again to Lisa's disappointment, only to return with more oil to her other thigh. Again, the hands worked up and down her thigh. As he worked, she recognized his shorts brushed up against her right foot, which was just barely over the end of the table. Feeling naughty, Lisa stretched her foot out further, straightening her foot. To her satisfaction the next time Mark's hands worked up her thigh, she felt for a brief second what she believed was his cock through his shorts as it brushed up against her toes. It felt soft, yet well formed and large to her brief touch with her toes. Mark's hands twitched slightly at the contact and he moved himself further back, out of range of her foot. Lisa smiled at her little game, then settled back into enjoying the massage. But a moment later, the weight of what she'd done hit her, and she silently chastised herself. What are you doing, Lisa? she thought. Knock it off.

Again his hands continued to work up her leg, pushing the oil further up her thigh.

His fingers brushed against her ass cheek as he worked. Lisa was definitely aroused now. If he worked his hands any further up her thigh she was sure he would feel wetness. His fingers were heaven, and every time they curled up her thigh in that motion she begged for him to go further in her mind.

Mark paused again, moving along the side of the table. Lisa felt a flicker of disappointment, though the brief interruption allowed her a moment to clear her head. What am I doing? she wondered. I don't even know this man.

The familiar sound of a pump was followed by the warm trickle of oil against the small of her back. A soft gasp escaped her lips as Mark's hands made contact--firm, practiced, and slow. He spread the oil gently at first, letting it warm beneath his palms as he smoothed it across her skin in long, sweeping motions. His thumbs pressed into either side of her spine, kneading the tension there, while his fingers traced outward toward her ribs, gliding with purpose.

He worked with a rhythm--methodical, attentive--his touch alternating between gentle pressure and deep, rolling strokes that coaxed the stiffness from her muscles. As he moved higher, his hands flattened and widened, drawing the oil up along her lower back and over the curve of her waist. With each pass, the stress melted further from her body, and despite her earlier thoughts, Lisa found herself surrendering again to the sensation.

Lisa turned her head to the side and opened an eye, realizing she was looking directly at the front of his shorts. With awe she realized she could plainly see the outline of his cock through the shorts he was wearing. He swayed slightly as his arms and hands worked and his cock swung back and forth in her line of sight as he did so. The view was mesmerizing. As she watched she swore it was gaining in size. She stared, mesmerized by the sight of it straining against his shorts. No, he was definitely getting hard. She giggled inwardly that she could still have this effect on a man. Without thinking, she licked her lips--and caught Mark's eyes on her just as she did. Heat rushed to her face as she quickly shut her eyes, embarrassment blooming across her cheeks.

Mark's voice gently interrupted her thoughts. "Lisa, would you be comfortable removing your bra? I'd like to work more thoroughly on your back, but I want to avoid getting oil on the fabric."

Lisa didn't hesitate--those things were a pain to wash. "No, please go ahead. Thank you."

After Mark unclasped the bra, Lisa took the opportunity to lift herself slightly and slide it off completely. If men can be shirtless, so can I, she thought with a smirk. Again enjoying this game she was playing.

Only after settling back down did it occur to her that she'd eventually have to turn over. The thought sent a flutter through her--a mix of nerves and excitement at the idea of this handsome stranger seeing her bare chest.

Mark poured a small amount of oil into his palms, rubbing his hands together to warm it before placing them gently on the small of Lisa's back. His touch was firm but unhurried, spreading the oil in smooth, deliberate motions across her lower back. He began working in slow circles, his thumbs tracing the lines of tension along either side of her spine.

His fingers dug slightly deeper into her shoulders, kneading the knots with care, while the heel of his hand glided in long strokes across her upper back.

With each pass, Lisa felt herself sinking deeper into the table--her breath slowing, her muscles loosening.

"I'd like to have you flip over now, if you can, Lisa," Mark said softly, taking her out of her haze. "I'll start with your arms and then move to your shoulders. How does everything feel?"

There was a quiet beat of anticipation before Lisa responded. Her voice was calm, almost hushed. "Everything is perfect."

Mark held up a towel with quiet professionalism as Lisa turned onto her side to face him, instinctively using one arm to shield her chest. His head was turned aside, maintaining her modesty, though Lisa noticed--somewhat surprised--that he had removed his shirt at some point. He probably didn't want oil on his clothes either, she reasoned. Still, it seemed a tad bit unprofessional.

Once she settled onto her back, Mark carefully draped the towel over her, making sure she was fully covered and at ease before continuing.

Taking her right hand gently in his, Mark began to work the oil into her skin. Once again, Lisa couldn't help but notice how large his hands felt around hers. His fingers moved slowly around her palm and wrist, then glided down to the tips of her fingers. One by one, he massaged each digit, twisting slightly as he rubbed the muscles along each finger, careful and deliberate. Lisa closed her eyes again, enjoying every moment and touch they shared.

With her hand resting in one of his, Mark used his other hand to glide up her forearm, working the oil in with smooth, practiced strokes. His fingers wrapped firmly around her arm, kneading the muscles as he moved. He repeated the motion several times, rotating his grip subtly to ensure every part of her forearm was tended to with care.

Mark gently guided Lisa's hand to the center of his chest, placing it there while he leaned in to begin working his fingers along her shoulder and upper arm. She couldn't help but notice the firm strength beneath his skin--the defined muscle beneath her hand was unmistakable. She could feel the muscles tense with each motion of his arm. Mark's hands worked down her biceps and along her shoulder, his fingers brushing the top of her breasts. Lisa squirmed slightly with the touch, her thighs rubbing against one another as she found herself aroused further by his administrations. She could feel the towel sliding ever so slightly as his fingers moved.

His hands worked down further, along the side of her body, his thumb pressing into the edge of her breast. Soon Lisa could tell her areola must be showing as the towel shifted positions--the thought of it excited her further. The whole time all she could feel was Mark's chest under her fingers. Rock hard. As he worked her arm, her fingers glided up and down along the top of his muscles. He felt wonderful.

Putting her hand back at her side, Mark moved around the table and picked up her other arm, repeating a similar treatment. The strength of his hand working along hers. The feeling was heavenly. In a difference from the other arm, after working her hand this time Mark worked his hands along the inside of her forearm and up to her biceps again, resting her arm across his as he worked his fingers into her muscles with his free hand. Lisa's hand came to rest on his upper bicep and she could feel the muscles bulging as he worked. His arm was warm to the touch and firm. She opened her hand and reached out, extending her fingers around his upper arm as he worked oil into her shoulder. Her hands barely curled around half of Mark's upper arm. She could almost feel his heartbeat through those muscles under her fingertips.

Mark shifted his body back slightly, and her arm relaxed, allowing her fingers to glide over his chest and abs as it slid towards the table. She was still surprised he'd taken his shirt off--it felt unexpectedly unprofessional. But with his hands working her shoulder and her fingers tracing his muscles, there was little room for such thoughts.

A soft moan escaped her lips as the tension in her shoulder melted beneath his touch.

Sliding away further, Mark left only one hand on her shoulder as he moved to approach behind her head. As he did so, her fingers slid down and over his shorts band on their way to the table. Again, she ever so briefly thought she felt his manhood... but the touch was so light, so quick that she couldn't be sure...leaving everything only to her mind to imagine. As he shifted to stand above her head, she recognized she was wet. Very wet. This was extremely erotic and the feeling of this gorgeous man rubbing her was having its effect.

Mark kept one hand on her left shoulder as his other made contact with her right. His fingers moved with practiced ease, working the oil into her skin as he massaged along her trapezius muscles. His thumbs pressed firmly along the tops of her shoulder blades, gliding up toward the base of her neck. Then his fingers traced forward, brushing over the tops of her breasts before sweeping back along her collarbone, gently squeezing the tops of her shoulders. The sensation was blissful, and another soft moan slipped from Lisa's lips. As she inhaled, the scent of his cologne reached her--warm, citrusy, and edged with something undeniably masculine.

Lisa had once again closed her eyes, tilting her head back to face the ceiling, surrendering to the sensation of Mark's skilled fingers. His hands traveled higher, gliding along her neck with practiced ease. Gently cradling her head in his large hands, he began to work his fingers into the base of her scalp. A soft exhale escaped her as she relaxed further, completely enveloped in the moment.

Mark leaned in closer, angling his head to the side to better follow the movement of his hands. The result was that Lisa could now feel the warmth of his breath brushing against her cheek, lightly stirring the edge of her ear. Goosebumps raced down her arms as she instinctively leaned into his touch.

As he straightened, his hands drifted down the front of her neck, his fingertips discovering the lines of her collarbone and tracing them outward to the ends of her shoulders. Then, slowly and deliberately, one hand glided along the center of her chest, dipping under the towel between her breasts.