Arriving fifteen minutes early was a small triumph. At five months pregnant, every small accomplishment felt monumental—getting dressed, putting on socks, and attempting to move with grace when my body felt anything but graceful. Still, I’d made it, and that small victory felt like a win for the day. Besides, Emily, my masseuse, wouldn’t have minded if I arrived late. She didn’t mind. That understanding was one of the reasons I enjoyed coming here.
Pregnancy had brought about unexpected changes, some of which were wonderful, while others were difficult to accept. The increase in my bust size had been enjoyable for both my husband and me, but the excitement quickly faded as the sensitivity turned into unbearable pain. At times, I felt as if my body no longer belonged to just me, but to both of us—my baby and me. These days, I felt like a passenger in my own body, exploring uncharted territory that was both uncomfortable and magical. But when Emily placed her hands on me, I felt like I was reclaiming something, if only for a short time.
Emily was not my original therapist. My regular masseuse had referred me when I discovered she was not certified to perform prenatal massages. Thank God she did. Emily made it clear from the beginning of our sessions that my comfort was her top priority. She seemed to know exactly what my body needed, even when I couldn’t articulate it. I liked that. Her kindness seemed effortless, as if it weren’t just a job for her, but a genuine concern for my well-being.
After checking in at the front desk, I sank into a cushioned chair in the waiting area. The soft music and low lighting soothed me almost immediately. The room felt like a safe haven from the outside world—warm and serene, inviting me to let go of my daily stresses. Two other women sat nearby, flipping through magazines. They exuded a serenity and ease that could only be found in familiarity.
I shifted slightly, attempting to alleviate the anticipation that was already building in my chest. My pulse quickened just thinking about seeing Emily. I wondered if she noticed how much I looked forward to these sessions, or if it was just in my head. Was this growing desire one-sided, or could she also feel the tension? I glanced at my phone, wishing time would fly by, but the warmth that had already settled low in my belly was difficult to ignore.
I was scrolling through my phone when a familiar, sweet voice drew me away from my screen. “Hey, Lexi!” Emily’s smile was as warm as ever when she stood in front of me. “You ready?” She extended her hands to help me get out of the chair.
I grinned up at her, feeling my heart race. It was impossible to ignore how much my heart raced whenever she was near. “Yes, please.”
We walked down the short, dimly lit corridor, Emily leading the way. She opened the door and stepped aside, her hand brushing against my lower back as I passed. The contact seemed innocent, but a spark of affection lingered for longer than it should have. The warmth of the room enveloped me in contrast to the chill outside. The soft glow from the candles gave everything a pleasant, amber hue, casting the space in golden light, almost like we were entering a sanctuary. The scent of lavender and sage hung in the air, with each breath drawing me deeper into relaxation.
Emily closed the door behind us with a soft click before moving to the sink and counter in the far corner. She caught my eye with a playful smile, and something in her gaze made me feel like the center of her attention. “So?” she asked, her tone low and familiar. “How’ve you been, sweetie?”
I smiled as I returned my attention to Emily and placed my purse on the nearby couch. “Good, sore, hungry, tired… you know, the whole pregnancy adventure.” I gave out a soft laugh. The exhaustion was real, but sharing it with her made it seem lighter. “But happy, healthy, and taken care of.”
“That’s wonderful to hear.” Emily’s voice was soft as she returned to the sink, the water running, and began washing her hands. “And how’s the little one?”
I began to undress by kicking off my shoes and wriggling my toes out of my socks. It was another minor victory given how much effort is required these days. Despite Emily’s casual observation, each action felt like a triumph. “Healthy and strong, the doctors say,” I said, fingers working on the bow of my blouse. “Rambunctious, though!” I laughed and tossed the blouse on the couch. “Kicking, playing, and making me run to the bathroom every five minutes.”
Emily chuckled softly while drying her hands with a towel. “Sounds like you’re going to have your hands full.” Her eyes scanned over me, and for a brief moment, there was something deeper in her gaze—a softness, a concern that made me feel seen in ways beyond the physical.
I pulled up the fabric of my bra, releasing my tender breasts. When the weight of them was finally lifted, I breathed a soft sigh of relief as the warmth of the room enveloped my skin. My nipples, which were overly sensitive from pregnancy, responded immediately to the change. I tossed the bra on top of my blouse and bent down to pull my yoga pants down around my ankles. Or at least I tried. Stepping out of my pants was difficult due to my belly. With an exaggerated groan, I wobbled and lost my balance.
“I knew I shouldn’t have gone with these pants,” I said with a frustrated laugh.
Emily’s gaze shifted to me; amusement clear in her eyes. “Need a hand?”
“Yes, please!” I huffed and smiled despite myself as I sat on the loveseat, lifting my legs. I felt awkward and vulnerable. She knelt without hesitation, her hands warm and sure, and freed me from my clothing. Her movements were so practiced and natural that it made my struggle seem almost ridiculous. “You make it look so effortless,” I joked, feeling silly but grateful.
“That’s because I’m not the one carrying a soccer ball in my belly,” she explained, chuckling softly. She stood back up, her eyes scanning my exposed body with a gentleness that surprised me.
“Do you need help getting out of your panties?” she chuckled.
I gave her a playful glare. “No…” Despite the lighthearted banter, a quiet tension lingered between us, which I couldn’t quite identify. There was a subtle but undeniable shift that left me feeling vulnerable in more ways than one. I pressed into the chair to push myself up, but my belly made the task more difficult than I wanted to admit. “But, um… Can you help me up, please?”
Without missing a beat, she reached out, her hands warm and firm as they wrapped around mine, effortlessly pulling me up from the couch. Her touch lingered for a moment longer than expected. I smiled gratefully as I pushed my panties down and stepped out of them. Without a thought, Emily picked them up for me and tossed them with the rest of my clothing.
I stood completely naked as the heat of the room enveloped me, but it wasn’t just the warmth that affected me—it was the intensity of Emily’s gaze. Her eyes seemed to warm me even further. She gently turned me to face her, her smile soft but focused, as if she was looking for more than just my physical comfort.
“You look beautiful.” Emily’s smile was as warm as the room, and her eyes swept over me with such tenderness that it made my heart flutter.
Heat rushed up my cheeks. “I feel enormous,” I muttered, the vulnerability creeping into my voice despite my best efforts.
“Yeah, enormously beautiful,” she teased, her voice light, but with underlying sincerity. Her fingers brushed against the faint stretch marks on my belly in such a gentle yet deliberate manner that it felt as if she was acknowledging every aspect of me. “I see you’ve been using the lotion I recommended.”
I placed my hand on the swell in my stomach and felt the warmth of her fingers beneath it. “Oh, yeah. That stuff is amazing,” I said softly, acutely aware of our growing closeness, of how easy and natural her touch had become.
Her hands gently pressed on my upper chest, making light but steady contact and spreading warmth across my skin. Her gaze wandered over my body, as if she were inspecting me with the same care she always gave.
“And how have your breasts been feeling?” Emily’s gaze finally settled on mine, her smile soft and warm, as if she was reading more than just my physical condition.
Her question was casual, but I could feel my heart rate rise just hearing it. I hesitated, looking down at my swollen breasts, feeling both embarrassed and relieved. Why was it so difficult for me to respond to her when her very presence made me feel safe?
“Well, they’re really tender,” I admitted, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment as the words tumbled out. “Especially my nipples. They’ve grown a lot, and they’re always sensitive.” I paused, releasing a nervous laugh. “Honestly, it’s like they have a mind of their own now.”
Emily’s hands moved in response, gliding softly along the curve of my breasts and gently cupping them. Her touch was slow, deliberate, and warm, cradling the weight of my body as if she knew every detail of my sensitivity. Her thumbs traced slow, precise circles, responding to my body’s unspoken needs. A soft gasp escaped me, and my breathing quickened as I felt her fingers move with practiced precision, warmth spreading from her touch to the pit of my stomach.
Emily’s hands lingered for a moment before she drew back, her smile soft but searching. Her gaze paused briefly, hesitantly. “Are you comfortable with this?” she asked, her tone gentler than before, allowing me to set boundaries if necessary.
I nodded, feeling the heat between us intensify even further. “Yes, I trust you,” I said, the words flowing naturally, surprising me with how comfortable I felt with her. The air between us seemed to shift, and a quiet understanding filled the room.
She stepped over to the counter, moving fluidly as she prepared her oils. I put my hand on my lower back, feeling the familiar ache spread through me. “Everything hurts,” I admitted, my voice barely a whisper now, weighed down by all of my discomfort. “But most of all… my lower back and thighs.” I sighed, letting the tension between us subside.
Emily nodded, her eyes remaining warm. “Alright. Let’s get you comfortable, starting with your lower back and thighs. She began arranging the pillows and supports with practiced tenderness, but her voice was tender and never wavered, making me feel cared for in more ways than one.
I shifted on my feet, feeling the pain in my lower back intensify. Emily noticed immediately and stepped in without hesitation. “Let me help you,” she said softly. Her hands were firm but gentle, and she carefully guided me onto the table. Once I was on my side, she adjusted the pillows beneath me—one under my head, another cradling my belly, and a long pillow between my legs.
I took a deep breath, feeling the tension slowly leave my body as the supports lifted the weight off my aching muscles. “Comfortable?” Emily asked, her voice a gentle murmur, as she leaned down to check the position of the pillows. I nodded, the room’s warmth wrapping around me like a cocoon, but it was Emily’s calm, steady presence that truly relaxed me.
She stood up and began to unbutton her blouse. “I hope you don’t mind,” she replied with a casual smile, her tone light but intimate. “I usually strip down to my bra for your sessions. It’s just too hot in here.”
We’d gone through this before—several times—but each time, it triggered something deeper in me. The simple act of watching her undress felt personal, like a quiet intimacy that lingered even though it wasn’t intended to. I swallowed and nodded more slowly this time. Something about the way she moved made my heart race, as if each time she undressed, it unlocked a part of me that I hadn’t realized was there.
“Of course, whatever makes you comfortable,” I said, though the words came easier than I had intended. Emily removed her blouse, revealing the gentle curves of her shoulders and the delicate straps of her bra. The candlelight softly flickered against her skin, highlighting the smooth expanse of her back as she folded her blouse and placed it on the nearby counter.
She always folded her blouse neatly and carefully, as if it was routine. It was routine for her, but it was far from it for me. Each time, my gaze lingered a little longer, taking in how the golden light softened her form. My heart raced, and for a brief moment, I felt as if I was watching something I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t take my gaze away.
Emily approached and stood behind me, her presence comforting and familiar. Her hand rested on my bare shoulder and hip, the gentle pressure grounding me as my body’s tension began to release. “Is there anything you want me to avoid touching or areas I should be gentler with?” Her voice was low and careful, as if she understood the significance of the question.
I shook my head, my body already relaxed under her touch. “No,” I whispered, “I trust you.”
“Good,” she murmured, her tone soft but full of assurance. “We’ll take this at your pace.” I closed my eyes and sank deeper into the warm table and pillows beneath me. Emily’s hands drew away briefly, and the soft sound of her pumping the bottle of oil broke the silence. The gentle, rhythmic sound of her rubbing the oil between her palms echoed in the quiet room, and then I felt the warmth of her hands on my skin—first along my neck and shoulder, her touch slow and deliberate, releasing tension with each measured stroke.
Emily moved her hands down with precision, applying firm, deliberate pressure to the back of my arm and shoulder. Each movement was precise and steady, as if she was reading my body’s reactions. She would occasionally switch her hands to ensure an even grip and consistent pressure, and my muscles would respond instinctively, tensing and releasing in time with the rhythm of her hands.
Her fingers glided down the length of my arm, warm and smooth, until they wrapped around mine. She cradled my palm in hers, pressing her thumbs into the tender areas as she pushed, pulled, and rolled her fingers over mine, each touch sending soft pulses of relief through my skin. I sighed softly, feeling the gradual release of tension I hadn’t realized I was carrying.
Her fingers slipped between mine, gently working through the tension before she glided back up my arm, positioning it as if I were offering a hug, the gesture’s subtle intimacy not lost on me.
Her fingers pressed firmly into the small of my back, moving slowly up and down the length of my spine. A long, audible exhale slipped from my lips, almost involuntarily, as her hands coaxed the knots from deep within my muscles. Emily’s touch was firm, and her fingers moved with precision as they approached the base of my back, just above my hips. Her thumbs traced slow circles, easing the tightness in my body. Each back and forth stroke relieved the tension, her hands moving methodically from the center of my back to the curve of my hips, where the heat of her palms seemed to linger a little longer.
Emily’s hands left my back, and I heard the familiar sound of her pumping more oil into her palms. I felt a soft thrill of anticipation, heightened by memories of her touch. I knew where her hands would go next, and I yearned for it. When she pressed her hands gently against my belly, her fingers loving and tender, I could feel her intention in every movement—careful, deliberate, as if she was treating me like something precious.
A contented smile spread across my lips as her hands moved in smooth, fluid motions, applying just the right amount of pressure. The warmth of her palms seeped into my skin, the oil creating a soft glide as she moved, and I felt the heat emanating from my belly, spreading outward in slow, gentle waves that seemed to calm everything inside of me.
Her hands moved from my belly to the curve of my hips, her palms kneading carefully into the flesh of my right cheek. I swallowed hard as her oiled fingers moved carefully between my ass, the touch intimate yet professional. I tensed up, the closeness of her touch sending a shock through me, but I forced myself to relax. Even when the touch was intimate, she took care to make me feel safe. She moved steadily down the outside of my thigh, her touch remaining constant, until she reached my calf. She paused there, applying pressure to relieve muscle tension before moving on to my foot.
Emily spent a little extra time with my foot, running her fingers over the sole and arch before focusing on each toe individually. I couldn’t stop laughing, the sensation tickling me, and I smiled despite myself. My feet had always been my weakness, and she knew exactly how to bring out both laughter and tension at the same time. “You always know exactly where to get me,” I teased, my voice light, the playfulness breaking the tension just enough to leave me at ease while still wanting more.
Emily’s hands moved back up my body with the same deliberate care, her fingers firm but gentle as she guided me to roll over. I easily followed her guidance as my body relaxed and pliant under her hands, completely surrendered to her touch. She paid the same attention to my left side, kneading away the tension with the same careful precision as before. After that, she helped me shift onto my back, my head resting comfortably on a pillow as she gently removed the other supports. The warm table beneath me appeared to hold me in place, cradling me as I melted into it, completely relaxed.
I couldn’t feel her, but I could hear her soft movements around the room. I closed my eyes and drifted in the calm space she had created. Every sound and movement seemed to blend into the peaceful atmosphere she’d created just for me. My ears perked up as I heard the gentle hum of a machine starting up, followed by a subtle shift in the table beneath me. It gradually began to lift, raising my upper body to a comfortable incline. The change in position felt strangely intimate—as if I were being gently cradled and propped up to rest under her care.
“How are you doing?” Comfortable?” Emily’s voice was a soft whisper, almost as if she didn’t want to disturb the quiet peace we had established.
“I’m perfect,” I mumbled, my words slurred as if I was intoxicated by the warmth and relaxation. Her soft giggle filled the air, delicate and sweet, as if it were intended just for me, something shared in the silence between us.
“All right, I’m going to work on your breasts now. Let me know if it’s too much, and I’ll move on,” she said softly, her voice steady but full of the tenderness she always possessed. Her words provided a quiet reassurance, grounding me even as a tinge of anticipation rose within me. I heard more oil being pumped into her hands, a quiet, rhythmic movement echoing in the still room, before feeling the familiar warmth of her palms against my skin.
Emily’s touch was soft and deliberate as her hands cupped the underside of my breasts, applying gentle pressure that allowed the heat of her palms to sink deep into my skin. Her touch was both soothing and alluring, leaving me somewhere between comfort and arousal. She pushed up gently, her palms gliding over my tender breasts with such intimacy that it made my breath catch. Each movement felt purposeful, as if she understood the delicate balance between care and the slow growth of something deeper. Her palms moved across my nipples, hardening them instantly, the sensation sharp and thrilling as she continued upward, stopping just beneath my collarbone.
Her fingertips traced the outer curves of my breasts, circling slowly and gently before drawing inward, focusing on my sensitive nipples. My body responded involuntarily, sending a soft shiver down my spine as she coaxed my nipples into harder peaks, her fingers lingering just long enough to make me ache.
Her fingers spread wide, brushing against the tender skin before closing around my nipples again, gently pulling as if to gauge my reaction. A soft whimper escaped my lips, a mix of relief and desire that surprised even me. My breath caught as a wave of sensation washed over me, the intensity increasing in slow waves and drawing tension deeper into my belly. I couldn’t help it; my lips parted, and a quiet moan escaped before I could stop myself.
Emily paused, her hands resting gently on my skin and looking at me with soft concern. “Too much?” she asked, her voice full of concern, her expression making me feel safe.
“No,” I said softly, the word barely a breath. But there was a quiet vulnerability in my voice now, which I hadn’t anticipated. This was more than just physical; it felt deeper. The answer came so easily, and I was surprised at how natural it felt to fully trust her. I closed my eyes again, sinking deeper into the warmth of her touch, allowing myself to completely surrender to the experience.
“Wonderful. “I’m going to try something to help with the soreness and fullness you’re experiencing,” she said softly but reassuringly.
I felt the warmth of her palm settle just above my breast, while her other hand carefully cupped the side of my breast. She pressed gently, her fingers squeezing around my nipple with soft but deliberate pressure, before easing my breast back into place, the movement smooth and fluid. A soft release followed, and I gasped as the milk started to flow, the sudden relief taking me by surprise. It started with a steady spray, then slowed to a soft dribble before stopping as she released me. My eyes widened in surprise, a mixture of shock and relief washed over me as I watched the fluid spray from my body. The unexpected release left me feeling both amazed and satisfied, momentarily.
I didn’t say anything. The air felt heavier now, and my chest rose and fell as I attempted to make sense of the conflicting sensations coursing through me. Relief, yes. But there was something else. The sight of my milk, Emily’s touch, and the intimacy of it all evoked something deeper. It wasn’t something I expected, but it felt so natural between us, as if Emily knew my body better than I did.
“Is this, okay?” she asked, her voice softer and more cautious. Her gentle question grounded me. “Would you like me to continue?” she asked with tenderness, her gaze steady as she looked me over, waiting for my response.
My eyes met hers, and in that moment, something shifted between us. “Yes,” I whispered, the need behind it unmistakable.
Emily cupped the outside of my breast again, her hand firm but tender, squeezing lightly before releasing. The milk sprayed again, and the sensation was a mix of pleasure and relief that caused me to tremble. A soft spray of milk fell on my belly and the tips of her fingers, but she didn’t hesitate, her touch steady and practiced. Each movement felt deliberate, intended to both soothe and stir, and the duality of alleviation and sensation coiled tighter inside me. She repeated the motion a few more times, each squeeze bringing a different sensation—a dull ache followed by a deep, comforting relief that caused me to exhale softly, the tension leaving my body.
After a few more motions, she moved to my other breast, her touch equally deliberate. The sensations rolled through me, pleasure mingling with the dull ache, and satisfaction washed over me like a warm tide. But it wasn’t only comfort. A pulse of arousal beat low in my stomach, the pleasure building in gentle waves. My body responded instinctively; in ways I had not expected. I could feel the tension building in the subtle throbbing between my legs, as well as the increasing wetness. It wasn’t just physical; it was something deeper, something I struggled to contain.
“So, how do your breasts feel now?” Emily inquired softly as she wiped the milk from my skin, her touch gentle and reassuring.
“Good,” I whispered, barely audible. “Still a little sore, but not as tender or full anymore.” A weak smile tugged at my lips, exhaustion blending with relief, but the warmth of arousal lingered deep within me.
“That’s good to hear,” Emily said, gently placing her hand on my upper thigh. The warmth of her touch spread through me, igniting the ache that had been building low in my belly.
“Have you considered pelvic massage? It could help alleviate some of your stress.” Her voice was calm and measured, but her tone now conveyed a deeper understanding, as if she knew I was holding onto something more than just physical discomfort.
I hesitated, blinking up at her, the weight of the offer sinking into my chest. Her eyes held mine, steady and calm, as if she were offering me a lifeline rather than a massage. My heart fluttered as the words hung between us, and my mind struggled to keep up with the offer. “What… what exactly does a pelvic massage entail?” I asked, curiosity overriding the nervousness in my voice, the tension between us rising in the silence of the room.
Emily’s hand rested lightly on my thigh; her eyes soft as she began to explain. “A pelvic massage focuses on releasing tension in the vaginal and anal areas,” she explained, her voice soothing and reassuring. “Depending on your comfort level, we can focus on one or both areas. It’s intended to alleviate pressure and discomfort, particularly in the pelvic floor. But you have control. If anything feels too much, we’ll stop.”
I let her words sink in, feeling the weight of the decision rest in my hands. This was an unexpected level of intimacy, but I couldn’t deny the stirring of desire beneath the surface—both for physical relief and for something else, something unspoken.
I took a slow, shaky breath, attempting to process what she had just said. The thought of Emily touching me there, in such a vulnerable way, sent shivers down my spine, something electric and undeniable. Arousal, yes, but also something more profound. Trust. Safety. The tension I’d been holding in my body for months begged to be released, but the intimacy of the massage caused my heart to race. Heat bloomed low in my stomach again, a quiet throbbing of excitement.
Nevertheless, I knew I had a choice. I could stop this at any time. That knowledge alone made all the difference, reminding me that even in my vulnerability, I had control.
“Yes,” I sighed, the word slipping out with a soft breath. My body responded before my mind could catch up, anticipation humming quietly through me and spreading in gentle waves.
“Okay, let’s get you more comfortable.” Emily’s voice was calm and steady, the same reassuring tone that had guided me throughout the session. She reached over and pressed a button on the table’s side, and I watched as my legs gradually lowered while my upper half remained inclined. The change in position felt strangely intimate, with a quiet vulnerability settling over me, making my breath hitch as I became more aware of my exposure.
Emily moved away, heading to the sink to wash and dry her hands, a familiar routine that allowed me a few moments to process everything. I turned my head slightly to see her pull out something familiar from the closet: stirrups. My heart raced, and I felt heat rush up my cheeks as she connected them to the table’s sides. Nerves and excitement surged through me, sharp and electric, but beneath it was something else: anticipation, readiness.
When Emily finished, she stood by the table with the same caring smile, always checking in on me and ensuring I was okay. Her hands were gentle as she lifted my left leg and placed it in the stirrup before repeating with my right. As she pushed the stirrups out, my heart pounded harder in my chest, and my face flushed with an unmistakable blush. I was completely exposed, and the aching warmth between my legs was almost unbearable.
“Now, do you want me to focus just on your vagina, or would you like anal as well?” Emily asked, her tone professional but soft, as she stood between my legs, her eyes meeting mine steadily.
The direct question sparked a wave of anticipation in me. Her tone was gentle and patient, giving me space to say no. But something told me I wouldn’t. I hesitated for a brief moment, feeling the ache deep in my belly, but my need outweighed any hesitation. “Everything.”
Emily’s smile was tender, her eyes warm and reassuring. “Okay,” she said softly, her voice as calm as ever, grounding me in the present. Her compassion and professionalism calmed some of my nerves, but excitement and anticipation lingered beneath the surface.
She sat down in her chair and rolled closer, her body resting between my legs. From this position, all I could see was the curve of my belly, my breasts, and her face, which was glowing softly and steadily. There was something about this position, the way she was so attentive to me, that felt deeply intimate, beyond the physicality of it.
I watched her grab her oils, and the familiar sound of her pumping them into her hands made my breath catch in my throat. She rubbed them together slowly and deliberately, as if she knew I was watching, taking note of every detail. Every nerve in my body tensed in anticipation as her hands hovered just above my aching sex.
“Close your eyes and enjoy,” Emily said with a teasing tone in her voice, which made my pulse quicken.
I let out a soft breath and slowly closed my eyes. Surrendering in this way was both terrifying and liberating, knowing I was safe in her hands while also being completely exposed.
Her hands lightly rested on the insides of my knees, and I tensed in response, my body already sensitive to her slightest movement. Her fingers moved slowly and deliberately down my inner thighs, each touch leaving a burning trail of need behind. Every stroke sent a warm ripple through me, and I could feel my arousal increasing with each inch she moved.
She moved closer and closer, her fingers brushing the edges of my pussy, but just as I was about to beg for more, she paused and began working her way back up my legs, teasing me with each retreating stroke. The slow, purposeful rhythm was infuriating, and each flight fueled my desire. But I stayed still, concentrating on my breathing and willing myself to wait.
Then her hands came to a halt, her palms lightly resting on my outer labia and her thumbs gently pressing against the ridge of my asshole. I gasped at the unexpected intimacy, my breathing quickening as the tension in my body rose to a fever pitch. I was desperate for her to continue, my skin alive and tingling with sensation.
Emily’s thumbs traced alternating circles around my tight entrance, each touch careful and deliberate, increasing the tension. In response, my breath deepened, and my exhales turned into soft, unbidden moans as the space between us became heavier.
She gradually increased the pressure with each full rotation, sending shivers down my spine. When her thumb finally began to sink in, I gasped, my toes curling instinctively at the unexpected, intimate intrusion. The sensation was a mix of strangeness and thrill, and my body responded in surprising ways.
Emily’s free hand moved back up over my bare mound, tracing a line up to my belly before gently moving back down, her thumb slowly rotating inside me. Each movement was deliberate and precise, her fingers teasing the edges of my mound, sending jolts of pleasure through me.
I whined as I felt her thumb gently press against the outline of my clitoral hood, and my hips lifted slightly off the table as my body constricted around her thumb. The tension inside me tightened, and my breath came in shallow, needy gasps as my body ached for release.
“It’s okay,” Emily said softly, her voice warm and soothing as her thumb continued its gentle rhythm. “Relax.” Her words were more than a suggestion; they were a command that brought me back to a state of trust and surrender. Her soothing tone invited me to relax and surrender completely to the present moment. I exhaled slowly, attempting to obey, allowing myself to sink deeper into the experience, completely trusting her.
Emily withdrew her thumb from my ass, leaving a brief, hollow sensation before I heard her stand. The sudden emptiness sent a rush of desire through me, and when her finger returned a moment later, sliding into me with firm but gentle pressure, I couldn’t help but sigh in surprise. The feeling of being filled again made my body tremble with excitement.
Emily pressed her palm firmly against my swollen pussy, her fingers moving purposefully. Each touch was deliberate, not rushed, as if she was assessing every reaction from my body. She began rotating her hand in slow, deliberate circles, sending sensations through me as her fingers pressed firmly against the base of my clit. Each rotation caused my breath to hitch, and my body tightened in response to her touch.
She repeated the motion, pressing her palm against my delicate lips and grazing my clit with just enough pressure to send waves of pleasure through me. My hips lifted instinctively, seeking more of her touch as the desire for release overwhelmed me. The tension within me grew stronger with each careful movement of her hands.
“Just let go, sweetie,” Emily whispered, her voice soft and encouraging, full of warmth and care. The sound of her words washed over me, calming the storm of tension building within me, and I took a shaky breath, relieved that I was safe. I completely surrendered, feeling the release build, and become unstoppable now.
A few more thrusts, rotations, and the pressure of her fingers had me cumming tightly around them. My body stiffened, every muscle tensing in unison as a powerful wave of release washed over me. Then, in an instant, I convulsed, catching my breath as I rode the rush of intense pleasure coursing through me.
Emily’s fingers withdrew slowly and calmly, allowing me to ride out the aftershocks. I lay there, lost in the bliss of the moment, my body humming with the lingering echoes of pleasure. As the intensity subsided, the world around me softened, and for a moment, I believed it was over. A bittersweet thought crept in, and I almost wished it hadn’t.
But then I felt it: two of her fingers lightly pressing against my entrance. My breath caught, the familiar sensation evoking a new wave of anticipation. She worked them in gradually and deliberately, until her fingers were snug inside my aching, sensitive cunt.
Another set of fingers probed my ass, not as deeply, but enough to make my breath catch again. The dual sensations of being filled from both places overwhelmed me and caused my mind to spin. The fullness was almost overwhelming, but the pleasure far exceeded the intensity. I held my breath, attempting to remain present as my body responded to the intensity of the situation.
Emily whispered, “Breathe, Lexi,” her voice soft and calm, a soothing reminder to stay grounded in the pleasure. The soft command drew me back, reminding me that this was my choice. I exhaled shakily, attempting to follow her lead and trust her to guide me through the rush of sensations that flooded my body.
Emily’s fingers delved deeper into my asshole as I exhaled, sending a rush of pleasure through my body. A moan escaped my lips, and my body shivered in reaction to the sudden, intense fullness. The sensation of being filled in two places at once was novel and unfamiliar, but in the best way possible: overwhelming and euphoric.
Emily’s fingers moved in a slow, deliberate rhythm, pumping in and out of me in perfect time. Each time one set of fingers drew back, the other filled the void, keeping me balanced on the verge of control, the sensations swirling through me, too much and not enough. My mind was racing, and my body swam with euphoria as the pleasure coursed through me.
“Oh, yes,” I moaned, my voice breathless as I tried to resist moving beneath her touch. The desire to move, to lift my hips toward her, was nearly unbearable, but I forced myself to remain still, determined to savor every sensation.
“Good?” Emily’s voice was sweet and warm, and her question felt like a gentle reminder that I had control and that she was there for me.
“So fucking good,” I said quietly, my voice trembling as I tried to catch my breath. The words felt inadequate, barely capturing the pleasure that pulsated through me with each movement of her fingers, pushing me closer to the edge.
Emily maintained a careful balance of speed and pressure, not going too fast or too slow, and maintaining the perfect rhythm that had my body teetering on the edge. Then her thumb pressed firmly against my clit, providing just the right amount of pressure and the final push I needed. It was as if everything clicked into place, the tension within me snapping.
I gripped the table’s sides, my knuckles white, trying not to squirm and lose the rhythm, but the pleasure was overwhelming. She pressed deeper inside me, her thumb flicking at my clit in perfect sync, while her other hand maintained a deliberate rhythm in my ass. That was it—I’d come undone.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuu…” I cried out, my voice breaking as my orgasm hit me harder than I expected. My body arched off the table, wave after wave of intense pleasure rushing through me, each stronger than the last. My toes curled and spread, and my entire body trembled as I felt the overwhelming release. It was as if the tension that had been building for weeks, if not months, had finally snapped, allowing me to experience pure, unadulterated pleasure.
Emily’s fingers withdrew slowly and calmly, allowing me to ride out the aftershocks. Her touch became lighter and more soothing, as if she knew exactly how to bring me down from the intensity of the moment. I lay there, floating in the warm afterglow, my body still tingling with pleasurable sensations.
She did not rush me. Instead, her hands moved gently over my skin, caressing my thighs, hips, and belly with soft, feathery strokes. Her gentle touch grounded me, allowing me to gradually regain my sense of self. It felt as if she was still holding me in the quiet, intimate space we had created together.
“How are you feeling?” she inquired softly, her voice a warm whisper in the quiet room.
I exhaled deeply, feeling the last remnants of tension slip away. “Perfect,” I murmured, my voice soft, almost drowsy. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this relaxed.”
Emily smiled, her expression warm and tender as she wiped her hands clean and began to remove the stirrups from the table. “I’m glad to hear that,” she said, her movements unhurried as she adjusted the table back to a more comfortable position. “You deserve to feel this good.”
I smiled at her words, filled with gratitude not only for the physical release, but also for how she had cared for me, seen me, and created this space for me to fully let go. The intensity of the moment had faded, but our connection remained, as if something deeper had quietly settled into place. It was more than just physical pleasure; it was also about trust, safety, and our connection.
Emily finished cleaning up and handed me a warm towel to wrap myself in, her gaze soft and reassuring. “Take your time,” she advised, her voice remaining low and soothing. “I’ll be at the reception desk whenever you’re ready.”
I nodded, feeling the towel’s warmth spread across my skin like a comforting embrace. “Thank you,” I whispered, the words conveying more than just gratitude for the massage. She had given me something more—something I had no idea I needed so badly.
When Emily slipped out of the room, gently closing the door behind her, I lay there for a few more moments, savoring the peaceful silence and the lingering warmth in the air. My body still hummed with the experience’s afterglow, but it wasn’t just the physical satisfaction that lingered—it was the sense of being completely cared for, both physically and spiritually.
I slowly opened my eyes, blinking against the soft glow of the candlelight that still illuminated the room. Everything felt different now—softer, more peaceful. I ran my hands over the swell in my belly, feeling the familiar curves and rolls, but instead of discomfort or self-consciousness, I felt a profound sense of contentment. For the first time in what seemed like forever, I felt completely at ease in my own body.
A soft giggle rose from my chest, surprising me with its lightness. I smiled, letting the warmth of the moment wrap around me like a soft blanket. It was a beautiful, fleeting feeling that I wanted to hold onto for as long as possible.
After a few more moments of lying in peaceful silence, I pushed myself up from the table and wrapped the towel around my body as I stood. My legs were a little wobbly, but there was a lightness in them that I hadn’t felt before—a sense of freedom and ease that made me feel like I was walking on air.
I took my time getting dressed, letting the peacefulness of the room wash over me as I pulled on each piece of clothing. There was no rush or urgency, just a quiet, serene calm that had settled into my bones.
Once I was fully dressed, I gathered my belongings and headed for the door. As I reached for the handle, I took a moment to reflect on the room that had held so many memories for me. It was no longer just a massage room; it had become a space where I could let go of my insecurities and discomfort and embrace something more profound.
I took a deep breath and opened the door, stepping out into the hall. The soft music and dim lighting welcomed me back, but this time felt different. Lighter. I approached the reception desk, where Emily greeted me with a warm and knowing smile as she stood up.
“Do you feel better?” she asked, her eyes filled with the same tenderness that had accompanied me throughout the session.
I smiled as the weight of her question settled into my chest. “So much better,” I exclaimed, my voice full of gratitude. Thank you, Emily. Truly.”
She reached out and gently squeezed my hand, her touch warm and comforting. “It was my pleasure, Lexi,” she replied softly. “I’m always here for you.”
There was something in her words, something unspoken but deeply understood between us. It wasn’t just a professional statement; it felt like a promise, a reassurance that she would always be there for me, comforting and caring.
The connection between us remained, lingering in the air. I wasn’t sure what it meant or where it would lead, but for the time being, it felt good to know she was there and I was safe.
I nodded and felt a lump form in my throat. “I’ll see you next week?” I inquired, my voice a little shaky but full of anticipation.
“Of course,” Emily replied, smiling. “I’ll be ready for you.”
As I left the spa and stepped out into the cool evening air, I felt a sense of calm wash over me. My body felt lighter, my mind was clearer, and for the first time in a long time, everything seemed to be in order. Emily had given me more than a massage; she had given me a renewed sense of self, a reminder that I could still be beautiful, desired, and comfortable in my own skin.
And as I walked back to my car, I couldn’t help but smile, knowing that this feeling would stay with me for a long time.