Desperate on the Massage Table
Copyright July 2013, Sofia Bane
When Daddy bought me a massage for my birthday, I never would have guessed just how much fun it would end up being.
“How are you today, Miss Gray?” the massage therapist greeted me with a smile. Her auburn her was in a retro-chic pinned and curled cloud at her head, and her dark eyes sparkled.
I glanced at her nametag: Rachel. “It’s Lila,” I corrected her. “And fine.”
She gestured me to the massage table. “Would you like to remove your robe?” she asked, lifting a corner of the sheet that covered the table.
I reached for the belt of my robe, arching my back to push out my full breasts as I undressed. And why not – I had a hot, tight body that I was completely confident about, and Rachel’s eyes were on me anyway. I let the fluffy robe fall to the stone floor as I slid onto the table, my perfect body bare but for the thin pair of satin panties I had left on.
“What are you hoping to experience today?” Rachel asked me. “Any problem areas, anything new you’d like to try out?”
I shrugged, lowering myself to my stomach on the table. “I want whatever feels good.”
Rachel let out a sweet laugh. “Yes, miss,” she said. “I can do that.”
She went slow, her nimble fingers caressing the back of my neck until I could feel my individual muscles begin to slacken. “You’re tight,” Rachel marveled, running one slender hand from my neck to my shoulder. “I hope you’re not facing a lot of stress?”