I was a good ten minutes into the massage that was expertly easing the tension in my lower back when I realized that Vicky may have more services available. As her fingers pushed up towards my shoulders I shifted my head, opened my eyes, and saw the light summer dress she had been wearing when she greeted me at the door crumpled on the floor next to the massage table.
I chuckled internally at my dumb naivety. Just an hour ago I'd gone to Craigslist looking for someone offering massage services that were local and affordable. Vicky's ad looked polite, professional, and personable. Our quick text message communication indicated she could host the massage almost immediately. So without thinking too far in advance, I headed over.
The apartment building was pretty crappy. Litter was strewn around, bunches of kids of all sizes and races were running around a playground that probably didn't meet local safety standards. I proceeded with a sort of Robin Hood vibe. Like this Vicky was probably struggling, but providing this service to take care of her family. She'd suggested in our texts that I didn't have to pay until the end of the 50-minute massage to ensure that I was satisfied. I had nothing to lose. So naïve.
She had opened the door as soon as I knocked, a bright, cheery smile across her pale-skinned face. Straight blond hair fell down her shoulders, almost forming an arrow that pointed to evidently large breasts cupped in the light cotton material of that flower-patterned summer dress.
We exchanged pleasantries as she led me in. Another door in the apartment closed, causing me to look that direction.
"Just my brother getting out of the way," she said. It made me a little uneasy that someone else was there, but it also made sense that she'd have some form of security if strange men were coming to the apartment.
The apartment looked like it needed a thorough cleaning. Dishes were stacked by the sink and a kitchen table was covered in junk mail, pizza boxes, magazines, and the other detritus of inhabitants not concerned about appearances.
Vicky caught me looking around.
"I know, I know," she said, apologetically, "I told him I wasn't lifting another finger until he did his share, and now he's calling my bluff." Her voice trailed off.
"But I make enough from these jobs, I get my own place and he'll be left to his filth. Though I know in the meantime it doesn't help first impressions for my clients."
"No worries," I replied, and just smiled.
Vicky walked over to the massage table set up in the main living area. I guess that made sense. I'm sure any other spare rooms in this apartment weren't large enough to fit the table, but it added to the uneasiness.
"You can undress and wrap this towel while I get the oils," she said cheerily, and disappeared into the bathroom.
Slowly I slipped off my jacket and polo shirt, then belt and dropped my jeans. At least the towels on the table looked almost new and smelled laundry fresh.
Well, I was here now, so down went the shorts and I quickly wrapped the towel before folding and placing my clothes on a nearby chair.
Vicky knocked on the door from inside the bathroom and called out "are you ready?"
I climbed on the table and placed my face in the cushioned space and let out a muffled "yes."
She came into the room and over to the table where I could feel her presence even if I didn't look up. She asked where in particular to focus and if there was anywhere to avoid. I told her about my lower-back tightness and my neck stiffness from sitting staring at my computer for 12-plus hours a day. I heard the pop of the oil bottle and her rubbing her hands before feeling them softly rub across my back, up my spine, into my shoulder blades, and across my neck.
It was bliss as she increased the pressure and I started to zone out in the deep relaxation. As she silently worked my thighs I started to feel my arousal rising and concentrated on thinking about football, my mother, whatever would avoid that embarrassing situation.
But then when I looked up slightly and noticed the dress on the floor Vicky gently pulled at my side, beckoning with her hands for me to roll onto my back. I did so and readjusted on the table and squinted as those large pendulous breasts were now exposed and dangling over my chest. Her large pink areolas spread wide across the surface and her nipple jutted out just slightly. She turned and walked to the table to retrieve another bottle, letting me stare at a wide ass that was slightly dimpled but so beautiful. As she turned I could just make out the top of her seemingly freshly shaved pussy. Without saying a word she stood over my head and rubbed her hands down my hairy chest, down towards my stomach, forcing those breasts to dangle tantalizingly close to my face.
It was impossible now to keep my erection down and I could see the towel shift as it grew. After just a couple of minutes Vicky said, simply, "let's set that free, shall we?" The question was rhetorical as she pulled at the towel and I arched my back to let her pull it free.
She tossed the towel to the floor and without saying another word gently cupped my balls in one hand and began to stroke my seven-inch shaft. As she exposed the bright red head of my uncut cock she brought her mouth down to it and licked the tip, then around the glans, then down the bottom of the shaft before taking one of my balls in her mouth and flicking her tongue around it.
I twitched a few times in response to her tongue and the fingers slowly guiding up and down my rock hard shaft.
"Would you like to stay right there?" she asked.
Not understanding any alternatives I mutely nodded. Vicky reached over to the table and revealed a box of condoms. "Required, okay?" Again, I mutely nodded and she blew on the condom to expose the tip, then rolled it over my bright purple head and down the shaft.
