By the time I arrived at her door, I was already a little flustered. Reading street signs in a foreign language was a challenge, and if I hadn’t found a local who spoke English to give me directions, I would have been even later for the appointment. Still, I had finally made it, and only about 5 minutes late. Taking a deep breath, I knocked at the door. A brunette answered the door, medium build, perhaps in her late twenties, wearing a tank top and shorts. Over her shoulder I could see into her living room, where a massage mat was rolled out on the floor.

“Hi, I’m Yos. I’m your 9:00 appointment. I’m sorry I’m running a bit late, but I had some trouble finding the place.”

“Bonjour, bon matin. Entrez-vous et nous commençons.”

I looked at her, dumbstruck. “Uhhh, I don’t speak French. Do you speak English?”

“Mais non! Seulement francais, bein sur. C’est Quebec, aucun besoin d’anglais.”

“I’m guessing that’s a “No.”” Greeeaaaattt. You’d think this was something the concierge at the hotel would have taken into account, but… apparently not. Oh well, this is clearly the right place, and how much do you have to speak to your massage therapist, anyway?

I tapped my chest. “Yos. My name is Yos.”

Understanding came to her eyes and she laid a palm on her chest, “Anne”. She gave me a smile and stepped inside, gesturing me to follow. I walked into the room and took in the space. Candles, soft music playing, pillows at each end of the mat.

“Is there a place where I can get undressed?” She looked at me dumbly, of course. Sigh. I looked about the room and then pantomimed unbuttoning my shirt.

She brightened with recognition and nodded, “Oh, oui! Le WC est la, en bas”, and led me out of the living room, down a hallway, and gestured at an open door. I peered in and realized it was a bathroom. That would do. I turned around, said “Thanks. Umm, I mean, merci.” She walked back to the living room and I closed the bathroom door. I undressed quickly, hanging my clothes on a hook on the back of the door. There wasn’t a robe or a wrap or anything available. Was I supposed to walk out there naked? Hmm, I guess I’ve heard the French are less body conscious than Americans, but… oh well. I can’t hide in here all morning. I walked out of the bathroom, back into the living room, and stood at one end of the mat. Anne turned around to face me, and she froze for a moment, taking me in. I got the impression that coming in naked was not what she expected, but what else was I supposed to do? Shaking off her surprise, she gestured me towards the mat, then gestured towards me and tapped her backside. “Lie on my butt, face up; I get it.” I laid down, head on one of the pillows, and when I was settled she draped me with a thin knit blanket. She moved towards the foot of the mat and knelt down, sitting on her heels. She placed her hands on my ankles and began to work.

I can’t begin to describe the entire massage. There was too much folding, bending and stretching for me to keep track of it all. Mostly, I just laid there and took it. I started nervously chatting, and Anne either smiled at me blankly, or responded with a stream of unintelligible (to me) French. There was something liberating about this, about being able to talk to a person without fearing their reaction, secure in the knowledge that what you’re saying so openly is safely cryptic.

Early in the massage, while she was still working on my legs, Anne stood and lifted one of my legs in the air. She stepped forward until my heel was at her chest and then continued forward, sliding my leg up and up until it was straight in the air, pressed along her torso. She moved forward slowly now, cradling my calf between her breasts and stretching my hamstrings as she gradually advanced. I breathed slowly and deeply, urging my muscles to release and trying to give into the stretch. “Oooooh, that’s really good. Tight, but good. You can hold my leg between your breasts any time you like.” She smiled at me, happy to hear the moan, but showed no reaction to the words. “Do you have any idea what that tanktop does for your figure? Keep this up and my leg won’t be the only thing sticking up in the air.” She eventually lowered my leg, and then repeated the process with my other leg. In the process, the blanket over me rode quite high, and I couldn’t tell if my crotch was undraped or not. With her hands all over me, her warm, strong hands, my cock was just beginning to stir. But, even if I was exposed, where she was standing she couldn’t see anything anyway, so I didn’t particularly worry about it. Instead, I watched her cleavage as she held my leg and stretched forward. “I take it all back. The concierge made a great recommendation, language barrier or no.” She slowly knelt, still holding my leg, then lifted my other leg, held them together and raised up again. This time, I knew my bare ass was showing, because she stepped close enough that her bare feet slid under my cheeks as she rolled me back and back. The backs of my calves were pressed into her breasts, which didn’t do anything to ease my burgeoning erection. When she finally brought both legs back to the mat, the first thing she did was re-drape me so the blanket covered me fully.

Some time later, she was kneeling beside my shoulders, working on my forearm. She put another pillow in the floor and laid my forearm across it, and then used the base of her palm to walk up and down my arm, using her body weight to bear down. I turned my head slightly to watch her work, and was treated to a great profile of her tits. “Yeeeaaah, that’s it. Lean into it. When you’re forward like that, your breasts hang so low and heavy. Just a little bit more and you’ll drop one right into my open palm.” She lifted the arm into the air and leaned backwards, tugging my shoulder up and back. In the process, my palm was flat against her bare skin, right at the arm hole of her top. She was warm and smooth, but I could feel her muscles flex and strain as she pulled against me. Like a teenaged boy, I was thrilled with this small, incidental touch of flesh, and I eagerly anticipated more of the same when she did my other arm.

She later returned to my legs, focusing on my thighs. She flexed my knee and let my leg rest to the outside, exposing my inner thigh. She sat down near my feet, placed the sole of her foot against my inner thigh and started working her way up, pressing deeply with her heel. Those muscles were tighter than I could have imagined and I was silent for a change, focusing on breathing and giving as much length as I could. Then I became completely aware of her foot, as it had moved high enough that the top of her foot was brushing against my ballsack just the barest amount. Although the blanket still safely covered everything, her foot was busily working under the blanket, and as she repositioned for pressure in a slightly different place, her foot very slightly nudged my balls and slipped past them to get to my inner groin muscles. My cock twitched in response, and I was glad that the blanket obscured at least some of my response. I tried to focus on the stretch, but all I could think of was the pulse, pulse, pulse of my cock thickening and bobbing in place. She switched sides, working on my other thigh, and in the process the blanket slid ever higher. “Can you see me now? Are you trying to sneak a peek? You’re driving me nuts, did you know that?” She didn’t even look up, but continued pressing into my thigh with her foot, inching its way up my thigh, and finally brushing against my balls again. Feeling bold, I pulled the blanket up a bit, covering more of my belly and exposing my cock in the process. She didn’t miss a beat, but kept working on my thigh, my prick bobbing in the air just inches away from her foot. The side of her foot scooped under my testicles twice more before she pulled away completely, straightened my leg and finally pulled the blanket smooth, covering me again.

“Retournez-vous; nous travaillerons à l’avant de votre corps maintenant.”

I looked at her with a puzzled expression and she gestured with her hand, starting palm up and the quickly flipping palm down. “Oh, turn over! Sure.” I rolled onto my stomach, my cock pointing towards my head, pressed between the mat and my belly. She uncovered my leg all the way up to my hip and started applying some cream, working her way up my leg with her hands. I thought I must have misunderstood her intentions, because her work now was entirely chaste, and even when she got as high as my inner thigh, her hands didn’t go nearly as high as her foot had. She did both legs in that fashion, and then stood and quickly hurried from the room.

I was worried that I had offended her, or that the massage was simply over. I was about to get up and find the bathroom again when she suddenly returned and knelt on the mat beside me. With a practiced move, the blanket was neatly folder and draped above my waist and I was suddenly uncovered from the hips down. With more cream, she started working on my ass, massaging my glutes with her closed fist, bearing down on the muscles. On one hand, I was overwhelmed by how good it felt, and how tight the muscles were there. On the other, I was intensely aware of how bare I was in front of her, just where she was working, and the throbbing of my cock against my belly. Anne’s strokes gradually became a little softer and a little broader, sweeping a little more towards the outside of my hips, and then more towards the cleft of my ass. Suddenly, she was rubbing cream right inside the cleft, and I thought I was going to go out of my mind from her hands. Then, in a single move, the tip of her finger twisted just inside the tight ring of my spincter!

I groaned loudly into the pillow under my face, and she continued polishing the barest rim of my asshole. With her finger still wedged tightly, she tapped my on the hip. I lifted my face from the pillow and looked back, and she was making little circle with her free hand. I rolled over and presented her with open thighs and a jutting prick. She continued to twist and squirm a finger in my ass, and her free hand wrapped warmly around my cock and gently worked it up and down. Her ass was just barely within reach of my hand, and I slipped two fingers inside the leg of her shorts, and under the band of her panties. She was goopy wet with spooge, and didn’t pull back at all. I was suddenly determined to taste it. I withdrew my hand from her shorts and reached for the tie at her waist. Pulling the knot free, I tugged at her shorts, slipping them down her hips. She released my cock briefly and helped, shoving her shorts and panties in a wad to her knees. I slid my fingers between her thighs and started slipping back and forth, rubbing across her clit, and she inhaled sharply. She parted her thighs as widely as her bound shorts would allow and I stroked her off until both of her hands froze on my body and I felt her thighs shake. I pulled out from under her and came up to my knees. I quickly pulled her tanktop and jog bra over her head and off her arms, and then guided her backwards until she was lying on her backside. She raised her legs in the air and I removed her shorts and panties the rest of the way.

Her breasts looked as full and tempting uncovered as they had before, and I leaned over her to soak in that view. As I lay over her, my cock nudged against her slick cunt, and she rocked her hips, bumping back at me. I took the cue and pushed forward, guiding my cock inside her. She moaned loudly, and I stroked in and out several times, her ample cum coating my dick and making it slippery. I pushed, enthusiastically rocking in and out of this French piece of ass, and suddenly realized we were half off the massage mat and her back was twisted awkwardly. I leaned back and gave her room to sit up, and gestured for her to move towards the middle of the space. As she brushed past me, I put a hand between her shoulder blades and pushed firmly. Compliant, she fell onto her hands and knees, her pert little ass waggling at me. On my knees, I crouched behind her and grabbed her hips, sinking my cock into her waiting pussy. She pushed back, fitting her thighs against mine and I started bouncing back and forth, marveling at how tight and wet she was. She pressed her face into the mat and cried loudly as I swiveled my hips, banging in and out, in and out. I pulled back roughly, lifting her ass and sinking deep inside her. Listening to her groaning and the occasional burst of French made my balls tighten in anticipation, and I doubled my speed and then buried myself for an explosive finish inside her. I held very still for several seconds, feeling my cock pulse shot after shot, listening to her panting and feeling her cunt walls twitch and grab at my cock. She finally fell forward, one hand under her to catch the cum already oozing out from between her lips. I sat back on my heels, catching my breath. After a couple of seconds, she sat up and grabbed her pile of clothing. She stood up and as she paced out of the room, she said over her shoulder, “Your hour is nearly up. You should get dressed now.” Not in French …

He nervously adjusted his shirt collar before knocking at the door. The door opened and she smiled at him. He stammered, “Hi, I’m Randal. I’ve got an appointment at 3:30?” “Hi Randal, I’m Caitlin. Come on in.” She walked into the room, and he followed. Looking at the skin-tight cotton bicycle shorts she was wearing, he would have followed her anywhere. She led him to a thick cotton mat on the floor and turned to talk to him, and he struggled to bring his gaze up to meet her eyes. “Is this your first time getting a Thai massage?”, she asked. “Yeah. I’ve gotten normal massages before, but a friend of mine just got back from Thailand and told me all about the massages over there. And this girl I know recommended you, so… here I am.”
“Great! Well, any questions before we get started?”
“Can I use your bathroom first?”
“Sure, it’s that door right there. And there are hangers there so you can change.”

He headed into the bathroom and started getting undressed. The massages he had gotten before had worked a little differently, with the masseuse leaving the room while the client got undressed and on the table. Oh well, from what he had heard, this was going to be a new experience in more ways than one. He finished folding his clothes, steeled his nerve, and walked back into the room.

She looked his way, and stopped cold. She stared at him uncomfortably, and he nervously asked, “Should I lie down face up or face down?”
“Umm, let’s start with you face down.”
He settled into position on the mat and tried not to feel self-conscious. For the first time, he noticed the soft chanting music playing in the background, and the subtle scent of incense in the air. He began to relax the smallest amount when she spoke again.
“Are you warm enough? Would you like a sheet or a blanket?”
“Uhh, no, I’m okay.”
“Well then… I’ll just drape you with this towel.”

Randal worried that he had done something wrong, and not for the first time wondered whether his friend’s stories from Thailand had been somewhat exaggerated. A hand towel was laid over his hips, and a moment later he felt pressure being applied to the soles of his feet. He wasn’t really sure what was applying the pressure. It was stronger, harder pressure than the girl appeared capable of. Maybe she was using her heels; he had heard about little Asian girls walking on a guy’s back before. As she worked her way up his body, he was pulled, kneaded, pressed and pulled in ways he didn’t think possible. The towel shifted and slid a few times, but his embarrassment had faded from focus and Caitlin seemed to be casual about waiting for an opportune pause before repositioning the towel. More than the casual draping, he was focused on where her body was as the massage progressed, whether it was noticing how far up his thigh she worked or how she occasionally straddled one of his legs and her crotch seemed to settle low and firm against him.

Eventually, she asked him to roll over, and the hand towel was removed and repositioned completely. By this time, Randal was at least partially stiff, and the towel tented conspicuously. Caitlin resumed massaging, again starting at the feet and working up the legs. She seemed flustered when she moved to hip stretches and the towel would not stay in place. He turned the towel lengthwise and it fared slightly better. When she flexed his hip and pressed his knee into his chest, her torso was leaning against his leg, and her hips pressed against his tailbone. His erection stiffened further from the contact as he became aware of her heavy breathing while she held the stretch. He grew bold and reached an arm around Caitlin’s shoulder and pulled on her back, encouraging her to lean into the stretch even further. He was silently thrilled when she did not protest, but responded positively to the touch. When she switched sides to his other leg, he tried again, sliding his hand along her side and around her back and pulling her closer, and again she did not resist.

Caitlin next moved to the head of the mat and leaned over him to work on his chest and ribs. He watched her heavy breasts sway over his head, snug behind a form-fitting tank top. Her cleavage glistened slightly from the exertion, and he breathed deeply to catch the scent of her. From this position, she had to be staring at his cock, now at full attention and hardly constrained by the towel. She leaned deeply into his chest, and her breast brushed his cheek. The heat rising from her skin was driving him wild.

They both noticed the music had stopped about the same time. From where she was kneeling about his head, Caitlin stretched forward to reach the stereo controls. In the process, her thigh ended pressed against his face and he went out of his mind wondering how he could press the situation further. Stereo adjusted, Caitlin moved towards the middle of his body, straddled one thigh and started working on the bottom of his rib cage. Her thumbs scooped into his diaphragm, but Randal was barely aware, as he was completely focused on her open legs pressed onto his bare thigh. His cock was visibly twitching now, waving a white towel of surrender in front of her leg. With the clock ticking his hour away, he decided to be bold.

“I’m sorry, but can you lift up just a bit?”, he asked.
“Sure! Is something wrong? Is anything uncomfortable?”
He thought to himself, “I’ll say it is”, but aloud he said in an embarrassed fashion, “I just need to, umm, adjust.”
Caitlin lifted up from his leg slightly, and Randal slid his hand down between them. He shifted his cock to lay flat, and then without moving too much, raised his arm slightly until the back of his hand was pressed against her crotch. He still moved as if he was adjusting his package, but his hand was making far more contact with her than him. She squirmed just the least bit, and Randal crossed the Rubicon; he slid his hand inside the leg of her shorts and found her damp pussy. Caitlin inhaled sharply and he cut her off before she could speak. “I’ll double your rate if you’ll do the rest of the massage without these shorts!”

Her brow furrowed with thought, but she didn’t move away from his probing fingers. “I don’t really do that kind of massage.”
He smiled, “I’m sure you haven’t before, but your pussy is wet enough that I think you want to try.”
She gave him a worried look and said softly, “You can’t tell anyone.”
He tried to look sincere and offered, “Who would I tell? You’re safe with me.”

Caitlin gave him one more probing look, then stood and pushed her shorts down in one move, and then settled back onto his thigh. He could feel a wet spot where her pussy pressed hotly into his skin, and he pulled the token towel away from his lap. “Straddle both my legs and work on my chest some more.” She lifted her knee from between his thighs and moved it outside his hips, and sat down again. She planted both palms flat on his chest and leaned against his muscles, in the process pushing herself back against his hips and groin. He moaned softy and pushed up against her. “This is more like the Thai massages I’ve hard about.”
She closed her eyes and continued sliding back and forth against him. “I knew it! When you walked out naked…”
He pushed with a rhythm, trying to beak her concentration. His cock was slick with her pussy drool and he was rubbing against her furiously, riding between her lips.
She breathed heavily. “Our hour is up, and I’v already done more than I should. We need to stop.”
Randal placed his hands on her hips and encouraged the grind. “Don’t be like that. Don’t you want a good tip?” He rolled his hips back and forth, angling his cock so the head poked and prodded against her.
“It feels like you’re already trying to give me the tip. Mmm, I shouldn’t be doing this. My boyfriend…”
“Your boyfriend isn’t here right now. And neither is my girlfriend.” With that, he pushed harder and drove his cock into her gasping pussy. Her eyes flew open in alarm and she blurted out, “This isn’t what we talked about! I can’t… we shouldn’t…”, but her hips rocked with enthusiasm and she made no move towards pulling away.
“Just like Thailand,” he groaned, “only without all the soapy water. Rub me with that wet cunt!” He reached up and pinched her stiff nipples through the tank top. She clenched tight and shuddered on his cock, stifling a cry of orgasm. He pushed and drove, determined to break her composure. His scrotum slapped loudly and wetly against her split groin and as he throbbed in anticipation, she moaned loud and low. He tightened and contracted, then drove as deeply as he could reach to burst in pleasure inside her pulsing cunt.
She cried out in surprise, but her cunt milked him like it was hungry for each drop. When the pulsing subsided, she stood up from his hips, fluid dribbling down her thighs and one drop splattering on him. She picked up her shorts and headed towards the bathroom, saying over her shoulder, “The tip jar is on the table next to the stereo.”