(Fanny is used in the British sense, fanny is pussy)
The story so far.
Ch1 My friend Carla reveals that she is a part time masseuse
Ch 2 I takeCarla’s advice. Some of my early encounters.
I got to wondering why men come here. Don’t get me wrong, I’m very grateful. A rub and a tug. They are happy, and I get enough extra money to keep studying, but most have a woman at home. So rather than have full blown sex with her, they come to me for a hand job. What’s going on? Is sex at home so boring that a hand job here is better. Finally I came to the conclusion that the wife must have stopped putting out.
That was the only answer that made any sense, and I know my views are old fashioned, but why? Even if sex wasn’t the big thrill of the week, maybe, just maybe, they could make it better, more interesting, more stimulating than an oily hand job from a student that he has to pay for.
The bottom line, I simplistically reasoned, was the big house, the fancy car, and the whole nine yards, was being risked for the sake of a bit of sex. Two enthusiastic shags a week, twenty minutes work at the outside, was that too much to ask for, to maintain the status quo?
Anyway the men came, and it provided me with a generous supplementary income. My skills were definitely improving. By now I could tell when my guy was about to cum. I could delay it for a while, edge him several times, and as my skill set improved, I got more and more repeat business. Chaps rang up to book Cori!
By this time The Tropicana was well known and the standard three extras were just that, standard. Clients were not nearly as reticent in asking for them as in the early days, even though the ‘business’ was still in its infancy.
One late afternoon, when it was very quiet, a bloke of about forty came in. He was a big chap, hefty, and oozed confidence. When he’d finished ‘getting in the mood’ reading the soft porn in the sauna, he came into the lounge and started chatting.
By this stage I was learning that it was all about advertising. My bra had long since been left at home because my pert little tits, or PLTs as I call them, don’t need one, and I have rather prominent nipples: advertise!
The lounge was furnished with a couple of easy chairs and a low settee. I had noticed that when Anna sat on the settee she got picked more often than when she didn’t and I was curious, until I came in one day just behind a client. As he entered, Anna crossed her legs slowly giving us both a view right up her skirt, she too was advertising! Good plan.
So whenever I could, I sat on the low settee, chatting to the customers, with my knees somewhat further apart than my mother would approve of. Men just can’t resist it, they stare at the crotch of my white cotton panties as I absentmindedly shuffle about, doubtless fantasising about the delights they conceal.
So it was with Mr Brimming with Confidence. He sat and chatted about nothing in particular, obviously enjoying the view up my skirt, before choosing me to massage him.
“Come on then Cori, let’s see if you can’t take some of the stress out of my old muscles.” And stood up. I did the same as I intoned the usual ‘cum with me’.
Mr Brimming with Confidence followed me into the room and immediately just sat on the end of the table.
“So Cori, what wonders of nature are concealed inside those nice white panties?”
“Sorry?” I said a little taken aback.
“Well, you’ve been flashing me your knickers from the settee, so I’ve been wondering just exactly what’s under that thin white material.”
I was just about to list my menu when he continued.
“You see, you have me at a bit of a disadvantage, Cori.”
“Oh, why is that?”
“Because I’m naked, or nearly so, and you’re fully dressed. You’ve got great tits and a very interesting crotch. I want to be equal. I want to see it all, while you give me the whole massage in the nude.”
Well at least he was up front and made no bones about it, unlike shy boy only a few weeks ago, so I listed my scale of tips, and he nodded agreement. I felt it time to take the initiative. I moved in close, took the corner of his towel and started pulling at it firmly as I said.
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours!”
He laughed as I pulled the towel free revealing a slight tummy and a completely hairless package, another first! He must have noticed my surprise but chose not to say anything.
“OK Cori, now I’m really at a disadvantage. Off with your kit.” By now the T shirt removal was one quick movement and my PLTs were free. The skirt buckle was next and it dropped to the floor.
“Ah, those breasts certainly aren’t a disappointment: stunning, and so firm looking. But those beautiful white panties,” he smiled, “I am so looking forward to them coming off. May I help you?”
This certainly wasn’t in my script but, I reasoned, why not, so I nodded. He slid his hands into the back of my knickers, over my bum, and lowered them to the floor, a not unpleasant sensation at all.
“Nice,” he said, “very nice. Now we are definitely both on equal terms.” And I noticed he was getting hard.
I started the massage at the head end, as usual, somewhat aware that with his head on his forearms, my fanny was only inches from his nose.
“You have a very pretty cunt, Cori. You don’t mind if I call it your cunt, I hope. I find it’s such a lovely, expressive, word when not being misused a swear word.”
I was a little surprised, but not in the slightest upset.
“Not at all.” I replied in kind, “you, sir, can gaze upon my cunt for as long as you like.”
“Good girl!”
He took his arms off the table, reached forward and rested his hands on to my outer thighs, before sliding them up onto my bum.
“You have a delicious bum too, so nice and firm, quite delightful.”
“Well thank you sir.”
“You know what I’d really like?”
I had a feeling that I knew where this was going, and sex was not on my options list, but before I had a chance to cut him off he replied to his own question.
“I would really like to massage you. Feel those firm young buttocks under my hands. Of course, it would double the tip.”
Hang on a moment! I’m being offered double the tip of a ‘full strip and hand relief’ just for letting him massage my bum, OK maybe not just my bum but…..
My business brain took over.
“You can only massage what you can see, no probing?”
“Agreed!”
“Any probing fingers and it’s game over?”
“Agreed.”
So this was where I added ‘Reverse Massage’ to my menu. He climbed off the table with his, not inconsiderable, erection preceding him. This seemed to concern him not a jot.
He took over the job of masseur and, I’m happy to say, he made a pretty good job of it. I lay on my stomach as he massaged my shoulders, back, and bum. OK, so he spent a lot of time on my bum, but it was not in the slightest unpleasant, actually it was more than a little agreeable.
My mind took off. I am being paid as a masseuse, being tipped for minor sexual services, and enjoying an erotic massage. How bad is that? I could tell he’d been to quite a few massage parlours as he did all the standard moves. I actually enjoyed the thigh massage as his hands drifted lightly over my pubes! Actually he was pretty good.
“Right, turn over.”
I did, and he massaged my boobs softly, my stomach tantalisingly, my legs and thighs erotically, and then? Fuck, and then. He placed his palms, one on top of the other, over what he called my ‘pretty little cunt’ and, with a light pressure, made slow, circular, movements. I don’t know where he learned this technique and, frankly, I don’t care! It certainly floated my boat and I had difficulty in concealing my pleasure. I really did not want to cum, but I so failed!
We resumed the normal roles. I oiled his cock and balls. Massaged his balls gently with one hand, while using my thumb and forefinger on the sensitive area under the bulb of his cock with the other. This was my first time I had had held a completely hairless man. It was unbelievably soft and silky, his balls that is, his cock was anything but soft!
I edged him, several times, as close to coming as I dared. Finally his balls gave him away, they retreated a little and I knew he was about to cum. For the piece de resistance I placed both thumbs on his frenulum, that ultimate pleasure zone, and, with my forefingers round his swollen glans, rubbed my thumbs up and down with short, positive, stroke.
No man can take that for long, particularly if he’s been edged, and so it was with Mr Brimming with Confidence. His legs tensed and I felt the surge of pressure in his cock as his reflexes went into action.
I usually like to count the spurts as a measure of my success, and I think he got to five or six, good and powerful too. I gave myself pretty high marks!
Kleenex time! And that aroma of pollen, nice. He paid me handsomely, as promised and even asked what days I worked because, as he said, he liked to massage my bum and ‘that pretty little cunt’.
The next unusual request was George, George from Bolton. He was a bit into kink and his request for extras included the demand that I shouldn’t stop massaging his cock once he came.
I had learned by now that most men get hyper sensitive after they ejaculate. Once they shoot their load, all they want is for it to stop. Not so with George. It takes all sorts.
Bearing in mind that this was years before most of us became aware of BDsM, he wanted a full strip hand job, but insisted that I didn’t stop the stimulation until he said ‘Banana’. I know, why banana?
His point was that it was going to be painful and that he would complain like crazy, but that didn’t mean he wanted me to stop. He offered me another tenner if I would agree. Well I’m in business to make money so a full strip, plus a tenner, was pretty tempting. I agreed.
I thought I’d better give him value for money so I did the full massage starting with both of us naked. No towels, no pretending.
I edged him several times, oiling his cock as he lay there fondling my tits. He didn’t even seem that bothered about my fanny. After about four or five edges he tensed and said.
“Yes, go for it.”