Chapter 9: Massages

Equipped with Abbie’s spare bottle of massage oil and a thick flannel blanket, Curtis met Anja in the meadow under the giant oak.

Proned out on the blanket, she placed her head sideways on her folded arms, waiting.

He dolloped out a serving of oil into his palms and rubbed them together until the liquid was warm. As he pressed it into her shoulders and upper back, he marveled at the softness of her skin. He could feel her muscles underneath, which were more resistant than her regular flesh.

He moved over her shoulders to her upper arms, then switched to her lower back. Once she was oiled, he placed one hand over the other and swirled circles over her muscles, working the tension away.

This guy is a fucking genius! It feels SO good. And what is dragging over the backs of my legs? (As if I didn’t know.)

Curtis repositioned and began working her thighs. He spread his thumb and index finger wide apart and pushed along the flesh, using the webbing of his hand as a scraper. After paying due attention to her calves and feet, he was ready for the main event.

More oil, and he was deeply massaging her butt now. He was firm, but still loving. As he pushed, her pink asshole would slip into view, momentarily. He had seen everything now—asshole, pussy lips, and nipples—they were all perfectly delightful shades of pale pink.

Flipped over, Anja was similarly oiled and massaged by his big and strong hands. When he was on her breasts, she muttered, “36C, in case you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t. I simply had them down as ‘perfect,’ Anja.”

He sat back, still kneeling.

“Your turn, Curtis. On your back, please. What’s this?”

Like a flagpole. Only one thing to do: I wiped his shaft clean so there wouldn’t be any oil taste. He was so rigidly erect, his foreskin pulled fully back. After just a minute of blowing him, his hips were involuntarily thrusting up towards my face.

After he came, then, I swallowed and cleaned up his shaft. Another day I might watch him splatter his belly, but he was already a little bit oiled there, and I was unwilling to taste the chemicals.

Without further comment, I began running my hands over his breasts and pecs, and the little nubbins of his nipples. He really was in exceptional shape, without being too muscle-bound like a competitive body builder. This was going to be fun —