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Shortly after my birthday, I realized that I was missing the most important gift: one from me for myself. I wanted something that would help me deal with all the stress that started tormenting my life lately. Something relaxing. Maybe a book with meditation instructions or yoga exercises. So, I started searching the internet. After I had read through the hundredth advertised bestseller for mindfulness and the umpteenth call for self-love, I could no longer bear the misery. My neck hurt and my hands and feet were cold. "A massage," I muttered to myself. "That would actually be it. To stretch out on the lounger, enjoy and return home with significantly less tension.”
The offer of massages in my city was overwhelming. I scrolled downward, compared prices and addresses. As a small ad caught my eye: 'Massages for women only'. I clicked on it. Behind the ad was a neat website, which consisted of little more than a few brief descriptions with prices and a cell phone number.
A woman answered the phone and introduced herself as Amelie. "Are you interested in a massage? Would you like to make an appointment?” she asked.
"I just have your website in front of me. What exactly is the deluxe package? Everything else has descriptions, just this one not."
"Oh, that's the most popular massage I offer." Amelie's voice was so gentle that I almost felt losing tension via the phone. “A special relaxation massage with oil. A full body massage. That means I massage everything between your top and your toes. We can skip individual parts of your body if it would be uncomfortable for you having them touched. I would explain all of this to you again in the preliminary meeting at the beginning of the appointment."
I looked at my browser window. "Your website doesn't say that you don't offer erotic massages. Is that superfluous with female clients only? Aren't women asking for it?"
For a moment I thought Amelie wasn't going to answer. Then she said with a smile in her voice: “I choose myself who I offer it to, free of charge. If I like a woman... Well, sometimes I ask my customers if they want more.” She cleared her throat. “The calls are a kind of screening. I talk to the women and then decide whether to give them an appointment. And sometimes, when the mood is right and my customers want it, there is a happy ending for them.”
I heard her click a ballpoint pen.
"So, what's the word? Would you like to set a date?"
My face suddenly felt very hot. "With pleasure. Preferably the big deluxe package. It's sort of a belated birthday present to myself. Against stress. For relaxation and all that.” The sound of my own stammering made me even more embarrassed.
Amelie gave me an appointment and an address. Then she said goodbye to me.
A few weeks later, I stood nervously in front of an entrance door of a modern building on the edge of the city centre. I pressed the bell button and waited.
"Hello," I heard Amelie's voice. "Could you please take a step to the right and look up? There's a camera over there. Just a little security measure. I'll let you in right away."
As she asked, I stepped aside and looked up. "Hello I am Lena. I have an appointment at two."
The door opener sounded almost immediately. "Thank you," I said aloud and entered.
Amelie was waiting for me on the third floor at an open door. She led me through a small hallway into a warm, softly lit room. In the middle was a massage table with a light sheet.
"I'll give you a few minutes so that you can undress. Behind the folding-screen in the corner is a chair on which you can put your things.” Amelie smiled at me. “I only use fragrance-neutral oils for the massage so that you can concentrate fully on the touch. Do you have any allergies?"
I shook my head.
She asked me more questions about my health and my body. I stole a glance at her. Amelie was a little taller than me, a little plump, and had dark, shoulder-length curls. Whenever she smiled, I saw dimples in her cheeks. I liked her straight away.
"If you don't want something, say it right away. There's always something else I can do. It's about you feeling good.” Amelie handed me a large towel. "Lie down on your stomach on the massage table, pull this over you and let me know when you're ready." She smiled at me again and went into the hall. She closed the door behind her.
I undressed nervously behind the room-divider. Feeling almost a little embarrassed I hid my socks and underwear under my jeans and t-shirt. Then I wrapped myself in the towel and climbed onto the massage table. "Done", I called out in a low voice and plucked the corners of the towel out from under me.
The door opened behind me.
"I'm here," said Amelie. She stood at the head of the bed and put her hand comfortingly on my head. "I have a remote control here. If you want, I can play some relaxing music. But I can also turn it off at any time."
I nodded into the massage table. Soft music came from hidden speakers. The light from the lamp grew darker.
"If you are in pain, let me know. If you don't want to be touched, let me know. If something is uncomfortable ... "
"Then I'll let you know."
Amelie patted my shoulder gently. "Good. And now let's see if we can make you more relaxed."
She pushed the towel down to my waist. Shortly afterwards I heard Amelie warm oil in her hands. The sound of her palms rubbing together gave me goose bumps.
"Here we go," she murmured softly. "I hope my hands are not too cold."
'Infinitely pleasant'. That was my first thought as she massaged my shoulders. Her hands greeted my back slowly and with slight pressure. She stroked from the base of my head to my pelvis, flowing up again, literally caressing my shoulder blades.
I gave a pleasant sigh as her fingers ran up and down my spine to the right and left. Amelie's hands stroked my shoulders, my arms, my neck. She pressed and rubbed, pushed and kneaded. I automatically took a deep breath. She stood next to me, rubbed my hip with her right hand and folded the cloth a little to the side with her left. Then she started massaging my left thigh.
"Oh, that's good," I murmured.
Amelie's hands went over my leg, to my foot, rubbing up and down in waves across my calves. She went around the table and lifted the cloth from my right leg with one hand without her other hand stopping to stroke me. She skilfully folded the towel into a kind of triangle that covered my bottom. It was loosely pinned between my legs and hips.
Her hands moved up and down my right leg. She rubbed and kneaded my thighs, my calves. Then she worked the soles of my feet with her knuckles. In doing so, she kept picking up some new oil. With each touch of her, more stress seemed to drop of from me.
"Is it okay if I massage your butt too?" Amelie asked quietly.
I nodded. The thought of her hands on my bottom made my heart beat faster.
Almost immediately, her fingers slowly moved up from my toes. They paused briefly on my ankles. Then she stroked up and down in flowing movements: from my ankle to the highest point of my calves, back to my toes. Up to my knee, back down to the tips of my feet. It felt like warm waves were going up my legs.
The anxiety I felt when asked about my bottom disappeared. I only felt Amelie's hands on my skin. Her fingers slid under the folded towel, over my buttocks, up to my hip. The movement made the cloth slide to the side.
I lay naked on Amelie's massage table, with her hands on my butt.
Amelie's hands only stayed on my bum for a short moment, then they wandered over my back again in the same, flowing movements. I felt some oil run down between my buttocks. With gentle pressure, her knuckles rubbed the hardened muscles on my neck, then slid over my shoulders, over my back, my legs. She stroked up again, from my toes to my shoulders. Now there was no towel to interrupt her gentle stroking. As if carried by waves, her hands and forearms moved over my back and hip. Then she kneaded my bum gently but firmly.
On the one hand, I enjoyed her touch. On the other hand, it felt strange to be naked and just to lie there while she was playing with my butt.
"Are you all right?" Amelie asked. Her fingers continued to dance across my skin, rubbing my hips. "Should I cover you again?"
"No," I mumbled sheepishly. "I just didn't expect you to do that. I... I think I'm a little ashamed."
Amelie's fingers slid up my back. She caressed my neck, my shoulders, my arms. "Try to relax. Does it help if I tell you that I already had a lot of naked bodies here on the table?” Her hands went down my back. For a short moment she grabbed my butt with both hands and squeezed.
"Your tush is very pretty to look at."
The knuckles of her fingers massaged my right buttox, then my left. Finally, she put a hand on either side and rubbed in a circular motion. I imagined my butt wiggling.
"Next up is your front."
Amelie spread the towel over me again. I turned underneath it. She stood at the head of the massage table and put her hands on my face. "Close your eyes and take a deep breath."
Amelie brushed over my forehead and chin, cheeks and neck. She stroked my neck in flowing movements over my shoulders, then over the uncovered parts of my cleavage. I relaxed again under her hands. Her fingers brushed down from my collarbones in ever larger circles. Suddenly her hands slid under the towel, just past my breasts, then up to my neck. I shivered.
"Are you all right?" Amelie asked calmly.
"Yes. Everything OK."
She massaged my upper arms from shoulder to fingertips, then switched to my thighs. With a generous amount of oil, she worked on my legs and feet. It was like a warm, lazy sea sloshing over me...
Suddenly Amelie's breath tickled my ear. "Lena?"
I opened my eyes in confusion. "Did I fall asleep?"
"You dozed off. The massage was probably too relaxing for you.” Amelie stood next to my head again. She patted my shoulders.
"Would you like more?" she suddenly asked.
I looked up at her. "More?"
Amelie's fingertips danced over my throat. "Do you want a happy ending?"
"Oh." I felt myself blush. "I haven't even thought about that." A finger ran to my collarbone, then to my lips.
"If you want, you get a happy ending. I have time."
I wiggled my eyebrows. "That means you like me?"
She smiled and tugged at my earlobe. "Of course, I like you."
"How does the happy ending work?" I asked before I could change my mind.
"You relax and I do the rest."
A hand stroked over the cloth, laid down on my right breast.
"Do you want one?"
"Yes”, I said hoarsely.
Amelie pulled the cloth from my body and set it aside. Then she generously spread oil on my stomach. The sudden cold feeling made me shiver.
"It will be warm soon." Her smile was no longer gentle, but rather mischievous.
Her hands brushed over my ribs, my sides. Again, they slid past my breasts. With her fingers she ran large circles around my right, then around my left breast. She teased me and it was infinitely good. I felt myself instinctively move to her touch. My body tried to guide her hands. My breasts felt amazing under her fingers, my nipples hardened and straightened up. Finally, Amelie's thumbs brushed over my nipples, if only for a brief moment. Then they slid away again, stroking my throat.
"You torture me," I managed to say.
Laughing, she grabbed my breasts with both hands. She squeezed and kneaded them gently then rolled my nipples back and forth between her fingertips.
I exhaled audibly.
"Do you like this?" she asked.
"You better believe it!"
She pinched my left nipple, which made me gasp. Then she stroked down my sides to my hip. My pelvis inevitably rose. My thighs opened. But her hands continued to slide down to my knees, to my calves, to my feet.
A frustrated sound came from my throat.
Amelie laughed softly. "I need more oil first."
Cold drops fell on my hot skin. I inhaled sharply.
Amelie put my right leg up, rubbed and kneaded my thigh. I knew that she had me exposed, that she could see my pussy, but I didn't mind anymore. She also put my left leg up and massaged it with her hands.
"Lay your legs down, but keep them bent,” Amelie said quietly.
I did what she told me to do. And was promptly rewarded for it.
Her fingers brushed the inside of my thighs, my hips, my sides, my ribs. The caresses made me shiver. She rubbed my breasts, this time it lacked the gentleness with which she had previously touched me. She stroked, pressed, kneaded.
Amelie let go of my breasts. For a moment I thought she had changed her mind. Then I heard her rubbing oil between her hands. Suddenly her palms slid down the inside of my thighs. And this time they were closer to my pussy than ever before.
My breath stopped. I felt my racing pulse between my legs. I was certain: Amelie would feel the throbbing if she finally put a finger between my legs!
Slowly, very slowly, her hands moved up and down. Again, and again she brushed past my most sensitive parts, missed the outer lines of my labia. She teased and caressed me in an almost unbearable way. It seemed to give her great pleasure.
Amelie's hands slipped over my stomach, then over my mound. She stroked me gently, then vigorously again. And I wanted nothing more than her oiled fingers on my clit.
Her fingers wandered almost casually between my legs, spreading oil on my pussy. When she finally touched my clit with one of her fingertips, I winced.
Amelie smiled. With slight pressure, she moved her finger back and forth, up and down. "Did I find a good spot?" she asked innocently.
I didn't trust my voice, so I just nodded.
Amelie's entire hand brushed up and down between my legs. It glided over my most sensitive spots in a steady rhythm. My pelvis rose almost by itself. I felt her fingers slide up and down my labia as her palm rubbed against my clit. When one of her fingertips finally entered me, I sighed with delight. But the fingertip pulled back just as quickly. It was maddening.
Amelie put her fingers on my clit and stayed there. I was about to ask her if everything was fine, but suddenly I felt her other hand on my knee. She moved it up my leg in a flowing, excruciatingly slow motion. Two of her fingers opened my pussy, pushing inside me bit by bit. She pulled them back out, but just to thrust them back into me.
"Oh!" I opened my eyes.
Amelie never let go of me. Her curved fingers were deep inside me, making me moan. "You like that, don't you?"
I dug my fingers into the massage table and clutched the sheet. "Please do not stop!"
She smiled. "Of course not."
Then she started using both hands at the same time: two fingers rubbed my clit quickly and with slight pressure, two fingers moved inside me. I practically braced myself against the massage table, rubbed myself on Amelie's hands, heard my own panting and the slippery sound of her fingers between my legs.
Suddenly she seemed to be making a flying change: her upper hand literally shot to my chest, wandered to my flanks, my neck, my lips. The fingers of her other hand slid out of me almost simultaneously and found my clit.
The feeling was overwhelming. Amelie's right hand seemed to be everywhere at once, seemed to find and caressed all of my erogenous zones. And her left hand relentlessly stroked my clit. Finally, the stroking gave way to a circular rub. And the circular rubbing became faster and faster.
My orgasm caught me by surprise. My eyes went black. I moaned and my body twitched back and forth on the massage table.
But Amelie never let go of me.
Instead, she continued to rub, faster and wilder. Relentless.
I came under her fingers for the second time. With an intensity that I would not have thought possible. As if she suspected it, she put a hand gently on my mouth and muffled my loud, hoarse curses.
Only now did she slow her movements. Her hands moved over my flanks again, my arms. She gently stroked my cheek, covered me with the towel, and left the room.
I lay there, breathing heavily and at loss for words.
Amelie let me rest in the darkened room for a few minutes. Then she came back and turned on the light. She sat on the edge of the message table and examined me carefully.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"Very well. Thanks a lot."
"Can you sit up? Is your circulation alright?
I sat up slowly. "I felt a little lightheaded before, but I am fine now." I bit my lip. "Can I do anything for you, Amelie? I would like to thank you somehow. I know I will pay you for the massage, but I would like to do more for you."
Amelie handed me a glass of water. "That's nice of you, Lena. But I have another client right away. And later I'm going to have dinner with a beautiful woman.“ She patted my arm briefly. "I'm afraid my next customer will come in half an hour. I'm sorry to have to throw you out like this."
"Okay," I said, trying not to show my disappointment.
Amelie slid off the massage table and went to the door. "If you want, you can freshen up next door and rub off the oil. Towels are in the closet."
I decided not to stay longer than necessary. I got dressed with trembling fingers and knees. Then I took a few banknotes out of my wallet - the agreed payment for the massage and a generous tip. It all felt strange and unreal. She had given me two incredibly good orgasms - and I would pay her for it. The happy ending was a service, nothing more.
Amelie was waiting for me in the hallway. "It was nice to meet you."
"Thank you so much for the massage. It was really great.” My knees were still soft, but at least my hands no longer trembled. I handed her the money.
For a brief moment she looked down. Then she put the notes almost carelessly in her pocket and took my hand.
"Are you coming back?", she asked, smiling at me.
I blinked. "Do you want me to come back?"
Amelie didn't look directly at me, but looked at the wall clock directly behind me. “I would like you to come back around half past seven. Then I have free time."
I frowned in confusion. "I thought you were supposed to have dinner tonight?"
She smiled mischievously. "Only if you don't already have other plans."
"Of course not!" I squeezed her hand gently. "Pizza?"
"Always." Her smile became a big grin. "And after that you are welcome to return the favour."
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