When what normally should have been a non-sexual massage turned out to be different to what I expected, but in the end turned out to be the relief I needed…
When I was, a young man in my 20’s I had been going to this woman for a general (non-sexual) massage. She was about 20years older than me and I guess she was around 45-ish. She was a shorthaired brunette with wide hips and she was very attractive. Hard to determine her tit size as she always seemed to wear a tight fitting bra under an unflattering buttoned up white medical coat.

The drill was always the same I'd strip down to my boxers for her, lay on my back on the massage table and she would place a towel over my boxers while she enquired of any particular pains and aches I had that required her attention. She never indulged in any tittle-tattle about the weather, family or friends, so I knew nothing personal about her with regard to whether she was in a relationship or not. Nor did she enquire anything about my work, family, friends etc.

Because of an untimely interruption earlier this morning, my friend in my boxers accompanied by his partners in crime, his twin ovals in their hairy hessian like sac had other ideas. On this particular visit he's come here in a bit of a strop determined to embarrass me. Let me explain why.

Earlier that morning he was pestering me to look at a ‘dirty magazine’ that was recently loaned to me be a friend. So to pacify him I'm sitting in our living room, alone, with my pants unzipped stroking him while his one-eyed marauder is firmly fixed on some friend of his that's darting in and out of some slippery fully fleshed mature pussy on the page in front of us. He's in full flight and on the point of blowing his top when I unexpectedly hear the front door slamming shut, followed by quick footsteps coming down the hall towards our living room. Without giving him any due warning I grabbed him by the neck and rammed him back into my pants, trying to zip him in with one hand, while with the other, stuffing the magazine under the armchair cushion I was sitting on, before cousin Ann breezes into the room.

Fortunately, she suspects nothing, says ‘hello’, grabs a magazine off our coffee table and plops herself down on the couch opposite. No other words are spoken.

Ann is my 20yr. old cousin who frequently pops into our house unannounced from two doors down. She’s what we used to call back in the day; a classic ‘cock teaser.’ She’s blonde, very attractive and usually scantily dressed. Today she’s togged out in a short loose skirt, topped off with a low cut top that struggles to contain her bra-less and bulbous snow white titties. To add coal to the already hot fire (so to speak) she slips out of her sneakers and lifts her closed legs to rest her feet on the coffee table in front of me. The hem of her loose skirt falls away dragging its hemline along the edge of the sofa seat as it does so. No prizes for guessing the view that now presents itself! Being her cousin my first instinct is to look elsewhere (as if that was ever going to happen!) Instead, I can’t take my eyes off her snow white cotton panties that moulds itself snugly over the pussy bulge it struggles to contain.

Your man in my pants joins in. Denied his release, he is now pulsating uncomfortably trapped between the leg of my pants and my upper thigh. Even though he's cut off in there from seeing Ann’s presentation directly, that does nothing to deter him. As is usual for him in situations like this - without my permission needless to say - he takes the liberty of switching on some form of 'bluetooth' telepathy to connect with my eyes so as to feed his addiction.

He's constantly doing this to perv over women I meet on the street, in the supermarket, walking in the park etc. He wonders what this woman or that woman looks like naked? Does she like sucking cock? Is she a screamer, a moaner or does she just lay there passively and let her man open her legs while he's laying into her until he gets himself off? And to make matters worse he wonders what it would be like for HIM to do it to her! He wonders too, if she's tight, if she's hairy or shaved? Has she ever been bred and if so, how many children has she had? And a whole myriad of other thoughts that I'm too embarrassed to relay on his behalf even on a forum such as this.

As I indulge him in his perversion, I can't help but notice a twitch on the surface of Ann's inner thigh close to where it meets her encased bulge. Just a nerve perhaps. In addition, there's a subtle shading of a damp spot showing on her panties close down to near where her bulge meets the edge of the couch.

Anyway that’s by the by. Once up on the bench, in the massage parlour my Masseuse asked me if I had any pains or aches in particular, or was I feeling pressure anywhere. I told her I had been doing a lot of heavy manual work in the last few days and my lower back was stiff and ached when either getting up from sitting or lying down.

On that day in particular my head was full of horny thoughts, but I deferred from informing her about my other undisclosed stiffness! Being practically naked and about to be rubbed down by an attractive woman didn't help the situation! And as soon as I lay on my back on the massage table, embarrassingly my cock - that was flaccid arrival - ran into 'a mind of its own mode' and started to stiffen down the leg of my boxers. As she caught and lifted the corners of the towel asking me to turn over on my tummy l was hoping she wouldn't notice. Normally she would look away while she lifted and held the towel waiting for me to flip over under it, but today she didn't. As she lifted the towel she must have caught a glimpse of my bread roll rising in my boxers. Like most women when presented with such an opportunity she tried to pretend she wasn't watching… but her delaying in lowering the towel and the fixation of eyes betrayed her. Unlike us menfolk, women are much more devious when confronted with matters such as this, feigning either embarrassment or pretending ‘I’m not interested.’

Starting at my neck and shoulders, her smooth silky hands worked their way slowly down my back and onto my loins, which she clasped and massaged on either side. Unexpectedly she slipped both hands inside the waistband of my boxers to cup and massage my buns and as she done so, flicking my balls with the tips of her nails almost nonchalantly and if by accident, as she worked on my bum cheeks. This she had never done before, so she took me totally by surprise.

As a result of this unexpected (but welcome massage to my nether region), my cock by now was rock hard and I felt pre-cum leak uncomfortably down my right thigh. At this point any ethical protocols were gone out the window as far as I was concerned. Moving her hand out of my boxers, she continued down my legs all the way to my feet and completed the massage.

For a few moments, she brought her palms back up resting them on my lower back directly over my spine and from there she gently massaged my back with just the tips of her fingers as if checking my muscle tone. This too was something she never did before, which struck me as unusual as to why she did it today.

In spite of her unusual behaviour, still no words were spoken between us.
What was she thinking I wondered as she paused with her hands resting on my lower back like that, while she manipulated the muscle there with just the tips of her fingers? Why earlier did she massage my arse cheeks inside my shorts while deliberately brushing my balls with the tips of her fingers? Was it because she saw my hard-on earlier and it stirred something in her? Who knows.

Suddenly she asked me to stand up and face the massage table while she moved around behind me. Unsure of why, I complied with her request. Suddenly without warning she hooked her fingers either side of the waistband of my boxers and whipped them off down to my ankles. My twitching horn sprang free from its entrapment leaping forward to form an acute angle with my stomach. Now I was standing totally naked and without saying a word, she firstly squeeze my arse cheeks simultaneously with both hands before she asked me to spread my legs and to rest my hands on the edge of the massage table. She removed her hands and there was a pause. At that point, I sensed she may have bent down to see how my balls were hanging. I can’t say for sure, as it was pure speculation on my point. All I know is, at that particular time my balls were hanging low due to the frustration of not being able to ease their load earlier that morning.

My speculation may have been spot on, because suddenly I felt her cool hand cup and squeeze my stones gently, but firmly. For a couple of seconds she rolled and weighed my hairy cones in the palm of her hand. While continuing to and massage them with her left hand between my legs, she reached round my waist with her right hand and grasped my prick firmly. Then without any further preliminaries, she started to pump it…. vigorously. In less than a minute, my pent up seed was shooting forth creamy ropes, which she watched with interest counting out the spurts as they landed on the white paper sheet draped over the massage table.

When she was sure I was finished, she calmly handed me a towel and a couple of wipes, saying she would leave me ‘to clean up now' and that if I wanted to see her next week then I could make an appointment as usual with the receptionist on my way out.