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Maggie was 33 and hated her job. One day she saw an advert in the local paper for a training course in therapeutic massage. She signed up for it, gave up her job, and set up as a self-employed therapist. That was five years ago. Now Maggie’s business was well established. Her husband Mike was a little dubious at first about his wife throwing over her career to rub her hands over naked bodies in their utility room; but Maggie had built up a loyal regular client base, and her adverts in the local press and on various websites attracted a steady stream of new people. She was making a decent living to supplement Mike’s income as an airline pilot.
Maggie loved her new life, getting to know people, and helping them to relieve their aches and tensions. Some of them even seemed to us her as a kind of counsellor, telling her things about their lives that they would never dream of telling anyone else — especially, often, their husbands or wives. Of course, she got the occasional caller trying it on, asking whether she ‘provided extras’, did her massage nude, and so on, but she gave them short shrift. Her adverts clearly stated that she provided genuine therapeutic, non-sensual massage, and most people who contacted her understood that and fully accepted it.
The first week or two after the Christmas holiday period was always slow for business, and on this particular day Maggie had only one booking. She was actually quite pleased, because Mike was asleep in bed upstairs. He’d been working a heavy schedule recently, and had returned early in the morning from a transatlantic flight from Seattle. He was dog tired, and Maggie hated the thought of him being disturbed. The client was a first timer called Mehmet. He’d had a local accent on the phone, but Maggie guessed from the name that he probably had a Turkish background. As the front doorbell trilled she quickly checked her appearance in the full-length wall mirror. Short blonde hair; healthy complexion, thanks to sensible use of her home tanning bed; slim figure, except for her 40D boobs; white coat, doctor-style, beneath which she wore only white bra and panties — massage was hot, vigorous work — and bare feet, her red painted toenails contrasting pleasantly with her lightly tanned skin. The effect she went for was professional without being severe; she felt she succeeded admirably.
When she opened the front door, her client towered over her. He was probably a foot taller than Maggie, putting him around six-five, with wide, powerful shoulders. He was maybe 21 or 22 years old — not that much older than Maggie’s son. Most of her clients were around her own age or older, not that it mattered. Mehmet’s handshake was warm and firm, his big mitt engulfing Maggie’s hand. She showed him into her therapy studio, as she liked to think of it, and over glasses of fruit juice they sat on the couch while Maggie asked about his medical history, and what he wanted from the massage. Mehmet explained that he suffered a lot of stress at work, he did a lot of driving which left him stiff and aching, and he got the occasional muscular injury from playing soccer. His usual therapist was pregnant, and had recommended Maggie to him. Maggie knew the woman only slightly, and made a mental note to thank her for the referral.
As they chatted Maggie couldn’t help being struck by the beauty of Mehmet’s face. It wasn’t effeminate — in fact it was quite manly — but nevertheless, lovely. He had a swarthy complexion, surprisingly delicate eyebrows, huge twinkling dark eyes with long lashes, and a ready smile on full, sensual lips above a firm chin. With that, his big muscular body and his deep, rumbling voice, Maggie could imagine Mehmet had no trouble attracting female company. She chuckled inwardly, thinking, “Stop it girl, you’re old enough to be his mother.” After completing her checks, she stood and said, “Okay Mehmet, if you’ll strip down to your underpants and lie on the table, I’ll give you a minute or so.”
Mehmet grinned shyly. “Oh, sorry, I never wear underpants.” Maggie offered him a towel to drape over his midriff, but he added, “I normally have massage uncovered, if that’s okay with you. Julia, my usual therapist, is happy with it.” Maggie said it was fine. It wasn’t that unusual — a few of her regulars, male and female, were the same, feeling less constricted and more illegal bahis relaxed with nothing touching their skin except Maggie’s hands and forearms. Whatever worked for the client was good for her.
She left the room for a couple of minutes. When she returned Mehmet was laying face down on the massage table, his hairy body displaying an all-over tan. Maggie thought again what an impressive physique he had, and complimented him on it. Without raising his head he replied, “Thanks, I like to work out.” Switching on her favourite tape, featuring the sounds of wind, water and birdsong, Maggie poured warm lavender-scented oil onto her hands and started at the client’s feet, gently kneading his soles, and each of his toes. As she worked her way up to his ankles, and his powerful calves, Maggie could feel Mehmet relaxing, and hear his breathing deepening and becoming more regular. Her hands moved slowly, rhythmically, with a combination of firm and softer strokes. She worked her thumbs into the big muscles at the back of his legs, then applied more even pressure with her forearms. She allowed herself a small smile when she heard Mehmet sigh contentedly.
As she moved onto his huge thighs, Mehmet shifted his legs slightly wider apart. When she reached his upper thighs, the outsides of Maggie’s fingers occasionally brushed fleetingly against Mehmet’s scrotum. It was unintentional, of course, and it was bound to happen a little in the course of a massage. Maggie couldn’t help noticing that Mehmet seemed to have unusually big balls; well, she thought, he’s a big bloke. As she began to knead his taut, muscular buttocks, Mehmet murmured, “Mmm, that’s wonderful.” At one point, as Maggie’s hands worked their way across his butt towards his arse crack, he raised his bum slightly, as if to make himself more comfortable — and her oily fingers slipped a few inches into the crack itself. It was a complete accident — on her part at least — and she apologised. Mehmet muttered, “That’s fine, it’s really nice.”
Manipulating that big, attractive butt, Maggie realised she was enjoying herself even more than usual; perhaps a little too much? At that thought she felt flushed — God, it seemed hot in the room. Maggie asked Mehmet if he was too warm, but he said he was feeling great. His breathing was even deeper now, but Maggie sensed a slight change in it — it was somehow slower, more like the sound of sexual arousal. Maggie noticed with shock that her nipples were beginning to harden in her bra and, her face reddening, she quickly slipped her hands up to the small of Mehmet’s back.
As she reached his upper back, Maggie told Mehmet, “You’ve really got a lot of tension here, and in your neck and shoulders. I think you’re sensible getting regular therapy.” She worked her hands down Mehmet’s arms, then massaged each finger and his palms. As she did, his big fingers intertwined with hers, their palms pressing together, and a tremor shot up Maggie’s arm each time Mehmet’s hand lightly squeezed hers. After she’d done his shoulders and scalp she would normally have told him to turn over. This time — at the time she couldn’t have explained why — she ran the heel of her hand back down Mehmet’s spine, and worked his backside some more. She heard him give a small moan as she did so. Then, shocking herself slightly, she lightly slapped him on one bum cheek and said, “Okay Mehmet, you can turn over when you’re ready.” She thought the air in the room must be very dry — her voice sounded unusually husky to her. She turned to take a sip of water, thinking “Christ Mags, what’s wrong with you today, get a grip.”
When she turned back, Mehmet was lying on his back. She couldn’t stop herself gasping, “Oh”. Of course she’d seen clients’ cocks before, and a few had been erect — massage is by nature a sensual experience — but she’d never seen one like this. It didn’t belong on a man, it should have been on a prize stallion — probably a Clydesdale. It had to be at least four inches in circumference, and what — ten inches? – maybe more, in length. And it was certainly very erect, rising out of a forest of black hair like a swarthy Leaning Tower of Pisa.
Mehmet glanced down at it, and grinned sheepishly. “Oh, yeah, sorry, that sometimes happens. Think of it as a compliment to your skill as a masseuse.” Maggie nodded absently. illegal bahis siteleri She felt unusually uncomfortable as she started on Mehmet’s feet again. As she worked, she couldn’t stop her eyes drifting every few seconds up the length of her client’s legs, to those massive balls and…She might have expected his erection to subside a little as she massaged body parts further away from it, but it showed no sign of doing so. As she worked nearer and nearer, she felt increasingly nervous. Her mouth was dry, and her heart was pounding in her ears. As she moved her hands onto Mehmet’s thighs she took a deep breath to steady herself, and let out a long exhalation — blowing a stream of warm air straight onto his prick. She hadn’t meant to do that, of course, but the thing twitched like a live wire. Immediately, to her horror, Maggie felt a definite dampness between her legs.
She felt she stood have stopped the massage there and then, but that would have been so unprofessional, and unfair to the client when he hadn’t actually done anything to make her feel this way. As she kneaded his thighs, her knuckles again brushed against his scrotum, and his cock lurched. Maggie tried to concentrate furiously on her work, and to avoid any accidental contact with Mehmet’s tool. She began to repeat a mantra to herself: “I mustn’t touch it, I must not touch it.” A moment later she heard a low growl in Mehmet’s throat, and realised with a shock that her hand had overruled her mind, and her fingers were wrapped around the enormous burning hot shaft. Mehmet muttered, “Jesus, I didn’t know you did tantric massage.”
In a tiny voice, that didn’t sound like hers, Maggie replied, “I don’t. I mean…”
Mehmet chuckled. “Not that I’m complaining. On the contrary…”
Maggie jumped as she felt a big hand curl around one of her butt cheeks over her coat and squeeze it. Her brain screamed at her to take her hand off his dong, and to throw him out, now. But the rebellious hand refused to withdraw; in fact, slick with massage oil, her fingers slipped easily up and down the shaft. Mehmet eased his hips upwards, encouraging her. Maggie guiltily slipped her other hand beneath her coat — oh God, her panties were soaked. At that moment Mehmet grunted and jerked, and a stream of burning jizz erupted from his cock onto Maggie’s hand and arm. She stared at it, her mind completely numb, yet still her hand remained around the shaft, still pumping it as the last drops seeped out. Leaning up on one elbow, Mehmet wrapped a hand over hers, the one that had just masturbated him, and half-whispered, “I can think of something else I’d much rather you massaged that with.”
She watched in stunned silence as his hand slowly reached out and began to undo the buttons of her coat, one by one. Then he sat up, and gently slid it from her shoulders and down her arms. She felt the warm flesh of his arms touch her sides, and her breasts dropped as he undid her bra catch. “Oh my God,” her brain screamed, “what is happening to me? For fuck’s sake stop this, while you still can.” But it was already too late — Mehmet was now in complete control, and she knew that, even if she had really wanted to, she was powerless to resist whatever he wanted to do with her.
Like an automaton, Maggie released Mehmet’s cock just long enough for him to slip the coat and bra strap off her arm, then cradled her hand around his furry balls — they were so large they hardly fitted into her palm. She shuddered as a warm mouth closed over one of her tits, the tongue flicking her nipple while fingers rolled the one on her other boob. She cupped Mehmet’s face in her hand. “Jesus Christ,” her brain told her, “Mike’s just upstairs, he could wake up at any moment.” Momentarily regaining her senses, she gasped, “My husband, he’s…”
“Ssh, ssh,” Mehmet whispered around her tit. He eased himself to his feet, placed his hands on Maggie’s shoulders and turned her back to him. Then, gently but firmly, he pushed her onto her knees, her big boobs resting on the seat of the couch. He dropped behind her, his hairy knees stroking against her inner thighs. She felt his cock, rapidly stiffening again, pressing against her, burning her bum through her panties. His lips pressed to her throat, and huge hands reached around her and clasped her boobs, squeezing them as her big brown nipples canlı bahis siteleri pressed achingly into his palms. She heard herself moan, and prayed Mike didn’t hear. This man was so young; how could she let him take over control of her body like this?
One of the hands left her tit, and she felt strong fingers hook into the waistband of her panties, tugging the garment down her thighs. Guided by Mehmet, Maggie lifted first her knees and then her feet as he removed the panties, leaving them both quite naked. His hand re-attached itself to her boob, and she felt his hard, sticky cock nestling between the cheeks of her bum, rubbing slowly, teasingly up and down, raising her temperature by thousands of degrees. She wanted his fat cock deep inside her, more desperately than she had ever wanted anything in her entire life. Whining like a small animal she reached a hand behind her, grasped the monster, and guided it to the opening of her pussy. Chuckling, Mehmet eased the tip between her labia. Maggie wondered fleetingly if she was big enough to take it all. Then Mehmet twitched his hips, and Maggie gasped as she felt his thighs against hers, his pubic jungle tickling her bum, and she knew that she was.
Oh fuck, her cunt — she had never used that word in her entire life before — her cunt had never felt so stretched. The heat of him flowed into her, and it felt as if her whole body was on fire. She gurgled with pleasure as her new young lover began to slide his enormous length in and out of her, with smooth powerful strokes. Shamelessly she thrust her arse back at him, squirming her hips to fully feel his shaft, wanting every last millimetre of that prick, inside her, completely lost to him, husking words she had never used to her husband. “Oh yes, yes, you big horny bastard, fuck my brains out you sweet, gorgeous fucker.”
Mehmet rapidly increased his pace, and the force of his thrusts, until Maggie was slamming against the couch with each stroke, being driven insane by sheer enjoyment, his balls slapping hard against her. At some point one of Mehmet’s hands left her tit, and she felt his big thumb flicking across her clit, his palm resting on her hairy pubic mound, his fingers entering the top of her slit as his miracle cock hammered into her. That finished Maggie — scrabbling at a cushion she clamped her teeth onto it, screaming into it as wave after shattering wave of orgasms crashed over her. Her entire body tingled, her tummy lurched, her nipples felt as if they might burst, fireballs exploded before her eyes, and her cunt felt as if it was being ripped apart. Totally spent, Maggie sank forward onto the couch. Still Mehmet continued to fuck her, now gripping her hips as he drove into her with all his strength, for maybe a minute before, at last, she heard him groan, his mega-prick jumped inside her and what felt like an ocean of jizz flowed into her.
Mehmet flopped forward onto Maggie’s back, his oily body sliding against hers, his body hair caressing her, his hands creeping back to her boobs. His tongue explored her ear, and he whispered, “Oh God, that was amazing. Thank you.” Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “I hope I haven’t got you pregnant as well.” Maggie was on the Pill, but at that moment she couldn’t have cared less. She couldn’t have cared if her husband, her 18-year old son and her 14-year old daughter had all walked in. The only thing that mattered to her right then was the glorious, mammoth prick that still nestled inside her, and the beautiful boy who had satisfied her like she’d never been satisfied before, like she didn’t know it was possible to be satisfied.
While Mehmet showered, Maggie shakily dressed. At the front door, he turned to her. “I’d love to do that again. Can you fit me in at the same time next week?” Maggie giggled girlishly and nodded. She could ‘fit him in’ anytime! She had no idea if she already had a booking, but if she did she’d move it; she’d move heaven and earth to be fucked by Mehmet again, over and over again. He took her chin in one huge hand and kissed her, his powerful tongue thrusting deep into her mouth. Then, with one last squeeze of her boob, he was gone.
Closing the door, Maggie leant against it, stunned. What the hell had just happened? She’d never been even slightly tempted to act inappropriately with a client before, not even the ones she knew well and liked. She’d never been unfaithful to Mike before, either; and with him laying in bed yards away! Suddenly she felt sick with guilt. Or was it with lust? Oh God, she couldn’t wait for the same time next week!
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32