I’ve been a physiotherapist for years. I’ve worked with everyone from grandmothers recovering from hip surgery to elite athletes needing to get back in the game. Obviously, I have come across many beautiful and fit women but I’ve always remained professional. That is, until a few years ago when I met Jessica.
Jessica was in her mid-thirties, married, and a mother of two. She worked a couple of days in a friend’s business, to help her out, but otherwise lived a socialite life. Her husband was 10 years her senior, very successful in business, and, as I later learned, totally unattractive in her eyes.
Jessica was suffering from what physios commonly refer to as “Tennis Knee” (Patellar Tendonitis). It’s pretty common in any sport where you repetitively jump or need to come to a sudden stop. After initial rest, I had her stretching and moving, as well as some leg massages.
“You have amazing hands,” she said on her third visit. “I’m only coming here for the massages, you know.”
I wasn’t entirely sure she was joking. Her smile said she was but her eyes said otherwise. She had an intensity about her. The kind of confidence good-looking, fit women get over many years of learning that they can have anything they want. I’d picked up on it from the first appointment. She seemed aloof at reception but once we got chatting I learned she was witty, friendly, clever, and very confident. I enjoyed our sessions.
“Shame I didn’t hurt my back,” she said. “Or even my hamstring.”
“Why is that?” I asked.
“I could have got more of a full body massage.”
I laughed it off, but she held eye contact that little bit too long, making my stomach grab and heart rate pick up. The sexual tension was turning me on. I think she could tell.
“My glutes are actually pretty tight,” she added, biting her lip for a second.
My cock started to swell. I was wondering if it was all a tease or if she was seriously hitting on me. Either way, I remained professional but she was on my mind for hours after.
The next day, Jessica called wanting to change her appointment time. The receptionist explained I was fully booked. Jessica insisted on talking to me. I called her back in between clients.
“Something’s come up. I can’t do our usual time but I’m told you don’t have any appointments for a few weeks. Surely you can do something for your favourite client,” she said in a flirty voice.
Once again, typical Jessica. Insistent with the female receptionist, flirty with me. Before I could answer she continued.
“Maybe you could do an appointment after close? I’d pay you extra to stay back,” she said.
I won’t lie, my mind raced, my heart rate increased again, and my cock woke up.
“Sure. No problem,” I said. “No need to pay more.”
She insisted and we locked in the appointment time.
On the assigned day, when everyone else had gone home, I heard a knock on the door. I looked out and saw Jessica standing there, dressed up like she’d come from a business meeting. Suit jacket and skirt, hair and make-up done, high heels (which she probably shouldn’t have been wearing, given her sore knee). She looked amazing. I unlocked the door and let her in.
“Hi,” she said with a big smile. “Thank you so much for seeing me so late.”
I told her it was no problem and she headed off to get changed. I joined her when she called out that she was ready. I found her sitting on the edge of the massage table in little sports shorts and a crop top. Once again, looking amazing. I’d only ever seen her in leggings before. I knew her legs were strong and sexy but in those shorts, I struggled to maintain eye contact.
“OK,” I managed. “Let’s get you moving a little.”
“I’m so tight,” she said. “Any chance you could loosen up my leg first?”
I nodded, before adding “sure.”
She lay face down, her shorts riding up a little. Normally ladies wear spandex shorts under little tennis shorts. Jessica was not. I saw the bottom of her ass cheeks and a whole lot of those amazing legs.
I put started at her calf and worked my way up, encouraging circulation to the injured area, then loosened up the bottom of her hamstring, about a hand’s width above the back of her knee.
“Higher please,” she sighed.
I worked my way up, massaging her hamstring, even though it wasn’t really part of the treatment plan. She sighed a few more times and I’m pretty sure I caught her ass flexing like she was subtly humping the massage table.
“Your hands are sooo good,” she moaned.
I got those excited, nervous butterflies in my stomach. Once again, sexual tension you could cut with a knife. I continued, moving up to the top of her leg, falling short of her ass. I was so turned on. I had to make an effort to breathe calmly.
“My glutes are so tight. Be a darling?” she asked.
I paused. I could see where this was going and I didn’t want to cross the line. My cock was bulging in my pants, my heart was racing, and my mouth was watering, but I was trying to keep it professional.
“Please? I’ll pay you more,” she said, looking over her shoulder at me.
“No problem,” I managed.
I massaged her ass through those little shorts. She was either wearing a string thong or nothing underneath. I could feel her bare ass through the thin material of her shorts. As I continued to massage, her shorts rode up higher, gaping at the inside of her leg. I got confirmation that she wasn’t wearing any underwear. Her pussy was right there. A few times she lifted her ass up to push back into the pressure of my hands, giving me an even better look. I wanted to slip my fingers into the side of her shorts and touch her. I was aching to. I was certain she wanted me to. I was losing my mind.
“I’m so tense. Such a tough day. Tough week, really,” she said, face down. “I need to release all this tension.”
I was losing my mind. She was obviously soliciting a happy ending. I wanted to give it to her but she was a client and I was at work. I needed to resist.
“Help me out?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at me again.
I didn’t reply. I was wondering what to say.
“I could help you with your tension too,” she said, dropping her eyes to my obvious hard-on.
I swallowed.
“I would absolutely love to,” I said, staring her in the eyes.
“But?”
“But I can’t. You’re a client.”
“You’re fired,” she said, abruptly.
I was stunned.
“You’re fired. Now I’m not your client,” she said smiling.
She reached back and ran her fingertip down my bulge. I let out a sigh.
“I can’t. I work here.”
She looked frustrated, even annoyed. She’d probably never been turned down. Then her face softened.
“Are you free tomorrow morning?” she asked. “You could finish this massage at my place. I have the house free all day.”
Her determination and confidence was so sexy. My head was spinning. I was so turned on, adrenaline coursed through my veins.
“Yes,” I replied.
And that’s how it all began.
Diary of a Masseur 