The flick of the finger

She needed the massage. She went to the usual salon and asked for her usual masseur. He knew exactly what she wanted. It was not the muscle work. She did not like pressure on her body. She craved for her stress to be relieved in different ways. And she had taught him that. She knew within her, that he enjoyed it too.

Of course, the receptionist and the other staff did not know any of this, or so, she liked to think.

They led her into one of the pristine rooms. She took off her dress and inner wear. She had been wearing silk intimates — purple ones. She neatly folded them on the chair near by. She made sure the intimates were on top. Yeah. She was a sucker for a wee bit of public exhibitionism. She put lay on the massage table and lay the white towel over her butt.

She hated the wait.

And then, after, what seemed like forever, he knocked. He walked in. He was not the handsome hunk from Bollywood, neither was she the hottest lady in town. So they were just comfortable, knowing, what the other needed.

He started with her shoulders. Light strokes with his fingers. Straight strokes. Sometimes using his nails. Sometimes just with his fingers. But light. Oh, so light. That it just felt heavenly. He worked through the shoulders and down to the centre of her back. He gently took her left hand and placed it on her back, palms facing upwards. He walked to the other side, did the same to her right hand. He placed her left hand on her right palm. And he gently stroked her hands with his hands from shoulder to palm.

Uff. Just the right amount of discomfort. This was what she came for. She liked being put into these slightly uncomfortable positions. And her condition was that, he should do it, when she is least expecting it. Her heart pounded looking forward to what position he would put her into next.

She moaned as the discomfort and the pleasure of the fingers stroking her hand, danced in contrast.

He gently removed her hands and placed it back on the sides.

He moved on downwards to her legs. He stroked with his fingers and nails from her heel to her thighs, playing in circles when he neared her thighs. Gently slipping his hand under the towel to reach until her crack and the butt. But he would stop there and let her pant in anticipation. Her heart was screaming by now.

He gently bent both her legs, her heels pointing towards the ceiling. She responded by spreading her legs further. The towel inched higher. He stroked with both his hands in-sync around the thighs — inside and outside. He straddled her hips lightly, passed over her buttocks and ended by letting his hands just slip through the crack. Very gently touching it, but not quite violating. She shivered and shuddered in pleasure. He could see that she was biting her lip to keep herself from moaning.

The last time, he had made her clasp her ankles with her hands — in an almost Yoga position and continued the stroking. Would he do that this time?

He gently made her relax her legs back down. He gently bent her hand and pushed it under her belly and above. She understood that she was to place her hands over her breasts and she did. She clasped them tightly. This made her upper body a little raised.

He now started stroking the sides of her hips and her lower back. On and off slipping down towards her pubic area. Close but not touching it. She knew she was wet. He probably knew too. He would then do long finger strokes from her lower back all the way to her shoulder and slyly slip it through the armpit region, down to her beginning of her breasts and back to her hips. She had loved the flick of his fingers down her armpit regions. She had told him that too earlier. And he made it a point to include it somewhere.

He gently massaged the nape of her neck for a little while. He had the knack of sliding his fingers from the nape of the neck to around her ears and down the side lock area. She shuddered again.

She was amazed as to how much he had picked so much of this up. There was absolutely no sexual play, but the amount of sensual arousal that the one hour session gave, was out of the world.

He gently whispered that the time was up. She was a bit sad that he had not put her into the kneeling position, or the standing up position, this time. But that was the whole fun. If it was planned, it would not be this fun. Now, there is something to look forward to the next time.

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