Tre's Massage Therapy

Can you imagine how lucky I feel? I own my business and am already running a profit. I have a small group of friends for whom I am deeply grateful. I have my health, a quickly growing savings account, and oh yeah... I get to make women orgasm for a living.

If you haven't read my stories so far, or it's been a while, let me bring you up to speed. My name is Trent, but everyone just calls me Tre. I had studied finance and realized I hated sitting in an office typing away. So I found my calling as a massage therapist, bringing relief and joy to friends and strangers alike. I started in a regular therapeutic office in order to learn the trade. My instructors were diligent and capable so I quickly excelled. But one very special client came in the door that day due to a sports-related injury. Darlene. If you pictured a teenage boy's wet-dream, you'd be thinking of this woman, a volleyball player who was horny as hell and eager to exhibit her bountiful blessings. During my ministrations on her body, she quickly tried to turn the moment sexual, revealing more of her body than was needed.

Typically this is deeply frowned upon, but instead, I listened to the voice of the 14-year-old boy inside me and didn't shut her down. Not completely at least. Later, when I opened up my own clinic with our "signature massages," she was the first one in the door. Before I could even finish listing out the legalese and consent-related content of the registration form, she was naked on the table. I'm not sure if she was expecting me to just fuck her right then and there, but even if she was disappointed at first, she wasn't by the end of those 90 minutes. Her orgasms were so strong that I had to change into my backup scrubs and thoroughly wash my face.

You see I had started this endeavor with the help of a friend from my training days named Krysten. A woman in her mid-thirties whose asshole of a husband had left her. He wanted to travel and sleep around as opposed to being a husband and father. She and I had become very good friends, getting a beer together whenever we could. Her kids kept her busy, but I kept her stress free.

A detour, my good reader, is in store. Let me tell you about one of the times I worked on Krysten for her own weekly massage.

"Hey there, good lookin'. How was your day?" Krysten smiled up at me as I walked into our break room. I knew that nothing would ever develop between us. I was only 10 years older than her eldest kid. But we sure did enjoy each other's company and body. Our signature massages regularly ended up with us rolling around on a bed.

"It was pretty good. No signature massages today, just the usual clientele. Had an interesting moment though with Mr. Dillinger. I could have sworn that he had died. He was so sound asleep that at the end of the massage I had to shake him awake."

"Oh my god that's hilarious. I mean, the guy's a million years old so prepare yourself. It might actually happen to you."

We chatted for a few more minutes before hopping in our cars and heading to her house. It was a Friday evening so her kids were spending their usual weekend at the grandparents' house. After the divorce, her parents had moved closer in order to help as much as they could. They were living saints, though I think her mom might have flirted with me last time we met. We both pulled into her driveway and went inside. This was our usual routine at the end of a long week. We'd go to her place, have a glass of wine, trade massages, usually have sex at the end, and I'd leave Saturday morning after breakfast.

I know what you're thinking. 'You're spending the night with her that regularly? And nothing is developing between you two?' To be clear, I said nothing would ever happen. Not that we didn't have crushes on each other and wished she was my age again. We were best friends who liked to fuck. Can you blame a guy for fully enjoying the situation?

So we settled onto the couch, her with her rosé and me with... my own rosé. Fuck off, it's delicious. We chatted about the week, her kids, my most recent date with Darlene, her own attempts to get back out in the dating scene. But all of a sudden, she got really quiet. I sat patiently and waited for her to share.

"I miss him, Tre."

"I know."

"I hate that I miss him."

"What do you miss?" I asked.

"I miss waking up to his making pancakes for the kids and having a hot cup of coffee ready to go when I came downstairs. I miss hearing him sing in the shower. Terribly off-key. I miss... a lot of things, honestly." She said this as tears started to spill out of her eyes.

"It sounds like you miss having a partner and friend, not Brad." I hated that fuck. He had this incredible woman and he wasted his chance. I told myself I would never let myself do that. I would hate if I lost someone as wonderful as Krysten.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. Don't get me wrong, Tre, I love our friendship and my GOD you're good in bed. I guess I just want to be loved. I miss being loved."

I had nothing to say to that. What would I, a 25 year old idiot, have to tell this woman that would be of any use? So I did what I felt was best in that moment. I pulled her into my arms and let her cry on my chest. At first it was small sobs, but when I squeezed her just that little bit tighter, she broke down and wept in what sounded like the first time in ages. A few minutes later she sat up, grabbed a tissue and trumpeted her troubles away. She looked over at me with a rueful expression.

"I must look so attractive right now." She shook her head as she said this, not realizing that I did in fact find her beautiful right now. But I think I instinctively knew that words wouldn't communicate the truth in that moment. So I stood up, pulled her to her feet, and picked her up like the groom carrying the bride. Her cheeks grew rosy and she smiled at me in a way I hadn't yet seen. It was a small one, merely tugging at the corners of her mouth. But as I laid her down on the mattress and stripped off her jeans, I could have sworn I saw her relax in the way a woman does when she knows she's safe.

My smoothness was interrupted by the effort of peeling skinny jeans off of a woman. Thighs are glorious things that jeans like to highlight but also trap. We laughed and combined our efforts to rid her of all clothing. There she was, bare before me and absolutely radiant. Eyes rimmed with redness from her tears and mascara running roughshod, she was beautiful to me. I'm not sure if I've ever described Krysten to you. My sincerest apologies for my subsequent dashing of any image you had created in your mind's eye. But Krysten was womanly in the best of ways. Hair cut short to be manageable and out of the way, some might call it a textured pixie cut. She dyed her hair various colors over the course of the year. Today it was platinum blonde with streaks of green. She was the cool mom of the PTA. She was relatively flat chested but made up for it with some of the most perfect nipples I had ever seen. Her stomach was toned from exercise but not so skinny as to suggest it didn't require a herculean effort to maintain. Her hips and thighs bore the burdens and blessings of motherhood, curvy and worth languishing over. She was tall for a woman at 5'9" and reminded me of the actress Morena Bacarin.

So when I spread her legs and kissed my way up her thighs, I felt like I was in heaven. She spread herself for me, presenting her velvety pussy which was covered in a light smattering of pubic hair, looking like she had shaved a week ago. Just as she was thrashing on the bed in anticipation of my tongue licking up her slit, I pushed upwards and licked, pecked, bit, and sucked my way past her nipples until our tongues were sparring for dominance. The kissing was quickly intensifying so I pulled back in order to let us both catch our breath.

"You're beautiful." I said as I scooted back down and finally put my mouth on her soaking wet lips. She groaned in relief as my tongue started swirling around her clitoris. When I paused to breathe, she leaned over and grabbed the spare towel she placed by her bed every Friday morning. When she started to bridge upwards in order to slide the towel underneath herself, I caught her legs and placed them over my shoulders. This forced her into an awkward position with her neck bent, but it forced her to watch me as I devoured her pussy. I didn't want to cramp her neck, as that would kill the mood, so I soon laid her back down and continued my work. I didn't stop until she came three separate times.

I wiped my face on the corner of the towel before crawling towards the head of the bed. I placed myself next to her as she gasped for air. She was overwhelmed by pleasure as each orgasm had ripped its way through her like a bolt of electricity. The third was my favorite one because she had groaned and screamed my name for at least 5 seconds before her voice stuck in her throat and all she could do was pulse to the beat of her climax. It seemed like forever until she spoke and when she did, you could tell she was exhausted.

"Where did that come from?" She panted out.

"I wanted to make you feel good." I leaned in and kissed her after saying that. Her hand trailed its way over our thighs and started tugging at the zipper on my pants, but I stopped her.

"It's okay. Do what you need to do, I'll go grab you some water and be right back up." I smiled and kissed her tenderly once more. This was the most romantic meetup we had experienced, and it felt wonderful. But obviously it was just a special night when she was feeling low.

I treaded downstairs, got the aforementioned water, and came back to her room where she was still sitting on the toilet. I handed her the glass, stroked her cheek with my thumb, and went to undress for bed. I was worn out from my own exertions. Krysten soon rejoined me and curled into my side with her head on my shoulder. I kissed the top of her head and told her goodnight.

I woke up the next morning to a most pleasant sensation. I looked down and verified what I had sensed. Krysten had her mouth around my cock and was gently licking around the head. I groaned a good morning to her and closed my eyes as the feeling of her sucking intensified. Fuck she was good at this. No way Brad was happy, wherever the asshat had landed. In my experience, no one could suck like Krysten did. Soon I was panting from the building pressure in my balls. I looked back at her just in time to see her pop off my dick and replace it with her hand while her mouth took my sack in her mouth. The sensation was extraordinary, but I wanted to be inside her. Krysten's mouth game was on point as she reminded me by gorging herself on my cock. But my favorite spot to be? Her perfect pussy.

So I sat up, accidentally making her gag as my penis pushed further into her mouth. But I raised her up and spun her around, yanking down the panties she was wearing. I verified with my fingers that she was as aroused as I was before bending her over so I could take her from behind. Before long I was pounding away at her. Form and technique were out the window at this point. She and I were both just desperate to cum together. I felt her walls clench around me and that slight burst of extra moisture that comes when a woman orgasms. It was enough to push me over the edge. A few more pushes and I was emptying myself into her with a loud moan. I collapsed on top of her before rolling to the side. My penis and groin were soaked with her juices.

"Shower?" I asked.

"Shower." She replied.

This was the first time that Krysten and I made love. We had sex before, don't get me wrong. Only so many times can a woman as beautiful as Krysten suck you dry before you want to see what other treasures she holds. But last night and that morning? It was... sweet.

Anyways, dear reader. I told you that we had to make a detour to see Krysten, but the main story for tonight doesn't even involve me. I promise, the rest of this chapter will pass the Bechdel test. You might be wondering how it is I know this part of the story. Well, I'll give you a hint. One of the participants would one day tell me this story as she bounced up and down on my cock.

Maribel's Mischief Mondays

You see, one of the problems that arise for a business such as ours is the need for discreet and trusted employees. Can you imagine the legal trouble you'd get in if your receptionist decided to blab about the happy ending massages she was receiving on a weekly basis from a coworker as part of her compensation package? Hence we were extremely discerning in our hiring practices and then compensated people quite well. The words minimum wage and Tre's Therapy did not belong in the same sentence. The job of hiring Mirabel fell to my co-owner. Krysten knew Mirabel through a mutual friend. One evening a year or two prior, Krysten had been blowing off some steam with her girlfriends at a local lesbian bar. Few places exist for women to have a relative guarantee of safety, and a lesbian bar with a lumberjack bouncer wielding a baseball bat was one of these sanctum sanctorums. Any man who dared to approach a woman with anything less than respectful humility was quickly shown the meaning of the phrase "fuck around and find out." So Krysten was drinking her sorrows away, complaining to the multitudes of sapphic ladies eager to hear an attractive woman complain about her husband. Half were hoping to bed Krysten at the end of the night. The other half were glaring at their partners who were doing the ogling.

"So there I am, puking my guts out and that ASSHOLE has the FUCKIN' AUDACITY to ask if he could go out with the boys!" A chorus of sympathetic complaints answered her semi-slurred statement. The bartender grabbed Krysten's pint glass and refilled it while murmuring her assent to the descriptions of Krysten's ex.

I should mention at this point the makeup of the friend group who had gathered in order to support Krysten's journey and pain. There was Jacqueline, a college roommate who had managed to stay close with an old school pal. Straight black hair framing a pretty face and a petite athletic body made her another person of interest in the bar. Unfortunately for some present, she was straighter than a ruler. Then there was Audrey, a hippie lady with the armpit hair to match her politically motivated bumper stickers. She had a shaggy buzzcut and a semi-permanent expression of being pissed off. Then again, if you were a woman in America and weren't semi-pissed off then you were either protected from much of the world or had really good fucking weed. Her sometimes fuckbuddy and one time U-Haul girlfriend Maribel was there as well. Originally the curvy Latina had come along because Audrey had dragged her there. But when Maribel saw Krysten, she knew that Audrey wasn't the one she wanted to be tasting that night.

The problem that stood in her way was that Krysten was not interested in women. Oh sure, she found women beautiful. Who didn't? And yeah, she sure didn't mind having a female only dorm in college. It was just great to be so free with each other and not have to worry about clothes or the male gaze. And she learned how to kiss from her best friend in high school and they would practice in the car all the time. Who didn't?

Krysten got progressively more tipsy until she was flat-out drunk and dear Maribel decided to play protector for her new crush. Fast forward a few hours and Krysten was curled into Maribel's arms, softly snoring after drink and exhaustion had caught up to her. When it was time for the bar to close, Maribel gently woke Krysten with a kiss on the forehead.

"It's time to wake up sweetie," Maribel whispered. "Would you like a ride home?"

"I have my car here... I have to take the kids to soccer tomorrow. Fuuuuuck me," Krysten moaned. She was so tired still and just wanted to fall back asleep.

"How's about I drive you?" Maribel was trying to be respectful but wouldn't have minded an invitation. "You're in no condition to drive anyways. Come on, sweetie. Let's go," Maribel started pulling Krysten to her feet as she spoke.

A short drive later and Maribel helped Krysten fall into bed and threw a blanket on top of her. An Uber ride later and Maribel sunk into her own bed, desperately wishing she wasn't alone. But alas, Mrs. Rabbit was going to be her companion tonight. She turned on the vibrator and slowly teased herself to full arousal. Maribel was the type to sleep naked with the heat cranked up and only a light sheet to cover her body. She felt sensual and womanly like that. So while she took time to make her body ready to cum, her mind was already there. A fantasy played out in her mind of Krysten's fingers rubbing furiously at her clit. It was an overwhelming image and Maribel's breath cut off as she came with a rush of endorphins. A trip to the bathroom, a baby wipe, and Maribel was ready to fall unconscious. But before she finally closed her eyes, she sent off a quick text to Krysten saying, let me know your coffee order and where the soccer practice is and I'd love to make your day a little easier. She set an alarm for way too fucking early and fell asleep to the thought, 'that pussy had better be good.'

The next morning came and she begrudgingly rolled out of bed, showered, threw on some perfume and a pair of leggings that made her ass pop even more than normal, and drove to Starbucks. She had been thrilled to see a text the next morning giving an address and an emoji-filled thank you along with a request for a venti red eye with lots of oat milk creamer.

Over the next two hours, Maribel learned a lot about Krysten. Turns out she was still fun sober, if maybe a bit more restrained in the daytime. She knew that she was gonna be crushing on Krysten for a while. But her hopes were dashed when Krysten said what her dream had been and still was. The white picket fence, kids, soccer practices, and a loving husband. Maribel couldn't help but get a little wet at the descriptions Krysten was giving over the way she wanted her husband to treat her. Hint: it involved daily oral and surprise hookups in the middle of the day. Krysten was a sexual being and thoroughly embraced her desires. Maribel found men gross, but the way Krysten described it made even a gold-star lesbo like Maribel curious. I mean, she loved getting properly fucked from behind just as much as the next person, but she got nauseous at the thought of there being a pair of hairy balls being present in that interaction. But to hear Krysten's vulgar descriptions of the joy of making her man cum to the point of collapse? Intriguing.

So the two became friends. Friends where one of them masturbated furiously to the bikini photos on the other's Instagram. But friends nonetheless. They went out on girl's night, cheered at soccer games for Krysten's kids, and became entangled in each other's lives. So when Krysten and I opened up our therapy clinic with some extra spice added in, there were few people we trusted enough who could help us run our business. And among those select few, only one or two had any business sense about them. You see, besides having a fantastic ass and being bilingual, Maribel had gone to business school and worked as a financial analyst and marketing specialist for a couple of smaller companies that needed generalists who could do a little bit of everything. We told Maribel we wouldn't be able to pay her much at first, but she didn't care. She wanted to help her best friend succeed in life. Fortunately, our business took off and we were making money hand-over-fist.

Most massage therapists don't make all that much. Surprising, right? But that's because most of them work for someone other than themselves. So their employers take a sizable cut of the hourly wage that many of us fork over to receive such therapeutic services and highly improve our quality of life. Since we owned our own clinic we were able to undo some of those systemic issues. So while our clients were paying upwards of $100 an hour, we were able to keep most of that for ourselves and pay for the rest of the expenses of the business out of the rest. Because of rent and Maribel's salary, we brought home almost $60/hour and worked about 35 hours a week. The rest of the money was split up to cover Maribel's salary, rent, utilities, insurance, bribes, etc.