There’s a massage practitioner I go to every Tuesday at 10am. My wife knows, but she doesn’t know. She thinks I’m getting an ordinary massage. And mostly it is.
But about half way through, while I’m still laying face down, the massage practitioner, Marie, an older, heavyset woman with graying hair, starts working up into my lower butt crack. She has me spread my legs wide, and ever so gently runs fingertips over my perineum and the underside of my scrotum. I have to say, it’s absolutely delicious, except my cock, which starts to become erect, is kind of trapped under my belly. Before that part of the massage is over, she ends up running her fingertips directly over my anus several times. She does that very lightly. Ah my god!
Then, with me being frustrated that she won’t do more of the anal stuff, like maybe put a finger actually into it, she has me roll over.
My erection is big and obvious. Now my dick isn’t huge. In fact it’s rather skinny, but it’s nice and solid at that point, and sticking almost straight up. When I’ve looked down, I see it throbbing with every heartbeat.
She ignores it, continuing a regular massage. Then, during the last few minutes, she just touches her fingertips to the head of my penis. Again, it is super-gentle. I’ve had to lift my head up, open my eyes and peak to see what she’s doing. I can’t quite tell if she’s touching it or not at times. It’s an indescribable feeling. My penis gets so hard it feels like it wants to burst out of my skin. I wonder if uncircumcised people ever get that feeling? She’ll sometimes move down and do the super-light touching thing to the shaft of my penis, and my scrotum. Then, she always finishes exactly the same way: She firmly wraps the fingers of one hand around my penis, strokes me up and down one or two times, and that’s it.
I don’t cum. I so want to cum at that point, but it’s never happened. Instead, she leaves the room, giving me a few minutes to compose myself and get dressed. I’ve been tempted to jerk off during that alone time, but have been afraid she’d step back into the room and catch me. I don’t know why that worries me so much.
Anyway, the whole thing is so deliciously frustrating. And every week as Tuesday morning approaches, I’m as excited as a schoolboy, looking forward to my next massage.