BDSM, Fantasies, Unanticipated Satisfaction, Wonderboy

Masseuse – Or The Invisible Kink

Sometimes BDSM can be so unnoticeable it’s almost non-existent. But it’s still there. I noticed this today when I offered to massage Wonderboy.

Everything’s been so out of whack lately. I’ve not even been listening to him after he comes from work, and I always wait for him the whole day! It might sound funny seeing that we’ve been together almost 3 years, but I miss him, even if he only is away for 10 hours or so. And then I don’t even bother putting away the laptop and concentrating on him and what he has to share with me when he is home.

I’ve been reading this blog, Happyendingz – Confessions of an erotic masseuse, that’s really funny and snarky and real. It’s the client stories of a masseuse who does happy endings a.k.a. hand jobs. Well, I’m so hooked I didn’t even bother going to the balcony today (because you can’t read from the laptop in the sunlight). And the day was the sunniest yet!

Anyways, I haven’t done a lot of HJ in my time. I don’t really know if I’m just too eager or what, but I usually am already kissing, sniffing and drooling over the cock befor my hand gets there. I remember reading this piece once, where a pro something or the other said that if guys really wanted the best possible handjobs, they’d better just use their own hands. They have had the most practice to master the trade, you know! Maybe I kind of took that to heart. My feelings about fingering are on the same lines (who does it better than me…) so I wouldn’t blame a guy who preferred his own hand. I also happen to get off on watching a guy fondle himself. And I’ve already talked about my fascination with male ejaculation*, so you know I’m more than a friend of being in a first row seat, so to speak.

(*To interject: I just really wanted to use the serious term for it. It’s always bothered me that female ejaculation always needs to be spelled out. Like, when I wrote this opening line, I thought to myself. Hmm. Will people even understand what I’m talking about? It sounds kinda against our knowledge of the world to say cum and not wetness, but it really is what it is. You know if you ever squirted/had a girlfriend who did.)

Maybe I was inspired by the stories, but today I did a full-body massage on Wonderboy. I caressed him, more like, and massaged some, but the point was to be gentle and show I care. It’s also a place where you can show you listen, because massaging is, in it’s one-sidedness, a revealing activity. You can tickle or hurt someone or just make them indifferent, if you are not vigilant of their body’s signals. I ended up rubbing his stomach and somehow managed to massage his underwear right of him. (He might have helped a little.)

And then there were three.

I was so happy to fondle his cock. I lubed it all slippery and rolled off of it a couple of times with my whole body, especially my breasts and hair. He likes that, even if the hair gets stuck on the oily skin. So, fast forward a minute or thirty and I’m asking What do you want to do next? He answeres with a laugh and a shrug. The different things you’ve been doing have been pretty nice. Hoorray for me! Somehow the asking and the answering put my mind to something, so I continue I’m still in school, so I’m still learning this. I put my hands back on the cock, criss-cross like, and ask him Like this? And he moans. Fast foward a second or two and he’s asking me for more lube. I answer Oh yeah, that’s what they told us in school, but I always forget. Good of you to remind me. Tha-anks like I was some naïve teenager working, well, as a masseuse. Still, I’m talking in my normal voice, being myself, sitting between his legs and smiling at him. I keep doing the thing, with the eery likeness to opening a coke bottle, and he suddenly takes a quick breath and comes all over the place. There’s so much goo I can’t even see my hand through it. What just happened? I’m bewildered, almost to the point that I feel like laughing. But I’m too down, too fragile right now, so I just give him a tired smile, caress his lower belly and his balls and then we clean him up and start cuddling.

Later on I ask him if he liked what I did at the end. He says he did because it felt so different. So I tease him more. Was it more like I was really some masseuse and not me? He hides his head against my neck. And you liked that? He starts to get irritated and answeres accordingly, so I explain. I’m asking this so I know what to bring up again. If you don’t say yes, the masseuse will never reappear again. So, did you like it? It appears he liked it so much that he can’t even say it. Bacause it’s so pervy. I guess I can understand that for someone it would not be cool to know that your lover got turned on thinking you were someone else. But. I brought it up! I started it! So, who really is the perv here? If such an honorific is to be bestowed on someone, it should be me. Funny enough, I didn’t even consider anything out of the ordinary happening during the massage. Oh, another day, another customer.

What? You’re wondering did we drift off to rosey sleep after that? Without me getting off? Are you kidding?

He offered to do me and I declined but said I’d take a massage too. He massaged me, a lot better than my services I should add, and then came on top of me to kiss me and asked. Can I do you now? I giggled. So the course was clear. And while he was working with the whole might of the tip of his tongue, (my favorite teasing technique – just without the denial, tha-anks) I was picturing my hands (well, Mindy’s actually. Poor little Mindy having to please men like that.) gliding on his oily cock, the cock getting harder and then spurting out everything he has – – –

Excuse me.

And that was that. A perfect example on the perfectly reasonable kinky fuck. So, what I want to know is, why would anyone not even try their boyfriend’s kink? It’s mostly in their head anyhoo. Or in this case. My head.

Standard

One thought on “Masseuse – Or The Invisible Kink

  1. Pingback: Why Won’t You Dominate Me? « Past the Hurt

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