I lay silently face-down on the soft massage table, my face gently cradled by a spongy pillow. The room was dim and warm, the carpet bland, the koto music emanating from the music player ethereal, yet rustic. I waited alone until there was a knock on the door.

“Are you ready for me?” Daniel asked from behind the door.

I took a deep breath. My flesh tingled. The fact that I was completely nude tugged at my mind as I replied, “Yes.” He was going to see me naked. What would he think? What would he say? What would he do? Were we really going to do this? Would he have second thoughts?

The door opened and closed. I kept my face buried in the pillow, none too eager to expose my face along with my ass. I held my breath, hoping to hear some sign of his thoughts, but he revealed nothing.

Wordlessly, he circled the table. The sound of footsteps. Gentle bumps and thuds. A liquid squirt. And then suddenly, his warm, smooth, broad hands on my shoulders, coating me with oil. I moaned at his touch. His hands swirled around my shoulders, pressing firmly against me. His strength was evident, yet he restrained himself. I knew I was entirely in his power right now, naked and alone, exposed and vulnerable. But I trusted him completely.

His thumbs pushed against my back, working away my knots. It hurt, but only briefly, soon replaced by a sore relief. His hands went further down my back, slowly moving up and down from my neck to my lower back: firm, tender strokes. His fingertips pressed against my soft skin, lightly grazing along the length of my back, before his palms slid back down in the opposite direction.

I felt like clay in his hands, being reduced first to simple matter so I could be reformed into a new me. His muscled forearms pressed against my obliques, up onto my back, pressing me into the table. My hands gripped the sheets as I stifled a groan, a combination of pleasure and pain inside me. The smell of lavender suffused the room, wafting its way to my nostrils.

“How is it so far?” he asked. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Very good,” I whispered. But I couldn’t deny that I wanted his hands elsewhere. Impatiently, I wondered how long his talents would be squandered on my back when his hands could be exploring elsewhere. Would he be so cruel as to deny me that, after I had left myself so open to him, so exposed?

“Well of course it is. I told you I was good at this.”

He lifted his hands off of me. His steps moved from near my head to my legs. How much of me could he see? I wished I could see myself right now, look at my own parted legs, my own naked body. Could he see my freshly shaved pussy? Or the first glistenings of my dewed excitement?

His hands wrapped around my leg, encircling me. He worked his way down, patiently, thoroughly, his thumbs rubbing my leg all the way down to my ankle, then back up to my thigh, up and up until he could go no further, until his hand was against my delicate, tender inguen. My body trembled. And there, he lingered, his fingers playing against my thigh like it was a piano, his knuckles brushing so closely to my lips. “That feels good,” I confessed.

“Thank you,” he replied, his voice soothing and deep. A voice I could happily fall asleep to every night.

He made a fist and rocked it back and forth against my loins, in the corner between my thigh and my pussy. I opened my legs wider, inviting him to come in further. His hands switched to my other thigh, and again, worked their way down before returning as close as he could get to my womanhood, his fingers torturously, temptingly, teasingly close. I wanted those fingers inside me, I wanted them rubbing my clit, I wanted them caressing my lips and fondling my breasts and pulling me against his body as I screamed his name and felt his cock release his essence inside my womb.

His hands departed. I released the fists I realized I had made. His hands rested atop the back of my thighs and paused. “Is it alright if I massage here, Himeko?” he asked, moving them to my buttocks and giving each cheek a possessive, whole-handed squeeze.

“Yes,” I managed to whisper. He groped my cheeks from behind, kneading them like dough. I could only imagine just how much he could see of me right now, my cheeks apart, my cleft open to his eyes. I bit my lip and let him, let him stare and let him touch my body, let him do whatever he wanted to me.

I couldn’t help but desire him inside me. What if he unzipped his pants? Right now? Took out his hard cock and guided it between my parted thighs until it slipped between my moist lips? What if that hard, thick, virile shaft of his that had so often been the object of my desires and daydreams entered me, his swollen head forcing its way inside me? I was in the perfect position for him. Take me now, I wanted to say.

Ravish me, Daniel.

Make me yours, Daniel.

Fill me up, Daniel.

Make me cum, Daniel.

Fuck me, Daniel.

Hard.

Now.

I sighed, quivering, when he removed his hands from my backside. He spanked one cheek playfully, making me gasp in surprise. A few moments passed, and his lips brushed against my ear as he whispered. “Turn over, Himeko.”

I obeyed. I flipped over and he offered a pillow for my head. I rested my head on it and kept my eyes closed. His fingers wrapped around my skull, burying beneath my hair, rubbing against my scalp in short, quick motions. I moaned loudly as his fingertips scritched and scratched my head. My eyes rolled up into my head beneath my eyelids as he continued his ministrations. Ten tiny masseurs sent me into a trance of blissful relaxation until I thought I might just lose consciousness entirely. “That feels amazing,” I told him. His fingers continued unhurried, tending to each and every inch of my buzzing scalp.

His fingers left my hair and found their way to my contentedly smiling face. He massaged my jaw, my nose, my cheeks, my eyebrows, and forehead. I grinned at this intimate caress, at the feeling of his hand against my cheek and his fingers brushing against my lips. His hands caressed my jaw and moved down my neck, finding their way to my collarbones. His fingers stroked them from my shoulder to my throat. “You have beautiful collarbones,” he observed.

“Thank you.”

“It’s amazing that you can know someone for so long and have no idea what they look like beneath their clothes. Today’s been very interesting.”

I opened my eyes. His upside-down face stared into mine, just inches away. “Was it worth the wait?”

“I’d have waited a lot longer for this view. You look like a goddess. You exceed every fantasy I ever had about you. And trust me, I had a lot.”

My cheeks smoldered. “Flirt. It isn’t fair that I still don’t know what you look like, though,” I told him.

His hands paused. “Do you want to?”

“Yes.” He smirked and stood back, taking off his shirt, revealing a broad, hairy chest and a dark path of hair leading down above my field of vision. His hands reached out of sight and I heard the sound of a zipper, and then the quiet susurrus of fabric hitting the floor. Was he really naked now? I arched my back, but couldn’t see far enough to confirm it. Patience, I chided myself. He wouldn’t be standing behind me forever.

Now completely nude, so far as I could tell, he returned his attention to my body before him. His hands passed between my breasts as he leaned down, his abdomen above my face, close enough for me to rise up and kiss. He tenderly pressed against my stomach, moving his hands in circles on either side of belly button, my body tingling as he traveled between my breasts and hips. He raised his hands, letting only the tips of fingers graze against me as he quickly brushed along my torso from my pubic hair to my neck, each time just narrowly avoiding my nipples, each brush a tingling tease. I could smell his manliness in the air now, mixing with the floral scent of the massage oil, an earthy, rustic aroma that made me want to be wrapped safely in his arms.

“My heart’s pounding.” It throbbed hard inside my chest, echoing inside me like a drum.

“Really? I haven’t noticed.”

I grabbed his wrist and guided his hand to my chest. “Can you feel it now?”

His hand closed around my firm, round breast. “Well, your heart’s on the left side,” he corrected me with a chuckle. His other hand took hold of my left breast and grabbed it passionately, roughly, as though it were his property, existing for his pleasure, not mine. “Now I can feel it,” he intoned, as his hands began to massage my bare breasts. His palms grazed against my hard, brown nipples as he moved in circles, his touch electric against them. My toes curled and my fingers gripped the sheet as I tried and failed to stop a moan from escaping through my clenched teeth.