LUCK IS A LADY Part 2
I could hardly sleep that night. I couldn’t stop thinking of Kate, how gently she had treated me, how she nurtured me, how she seemed to be genuinely concerned for me. My emotions were still askew. Part of me felt the joy of discovering something new; a new love, a friendship in a new way. I had butterflies in my stomach when I thought of Kate.
The other part of me felt a combination of fear, shame, guilt, and decadence. I somehow felt dirty, that I had gone somewhere I shouldn’t have and had gotten a stain that would never wash off. A feeling that I had no self-control, that I was a pervert to allow a woman to touch me there and bring me to. And with me helping her, no less.
Was I just a conquest? Does she do this to all the girls on her table? How could I tell her that I didn’t want any more touching if I had guided her to where I wanted her? And what if I did want her touch? These weighty questions haunted me all night.
But despite all the anguish, the guilt, and the shame, there was something else. There was something deliciously risqué about surrendering to a woman, a real woman. Her hands were smooth and delicate. She had a soft touch and knew where to touch, and how. It was relaxed, smooth, and comfortable. Kate was warm, loving, and very personal.
Kate called early the next morning. Caring as she was, she didn’t want me to wake up with doubts about her sincerity. Her soft voice was music.
“How did you sleep, Laura?” she asked in a silky tone.
“Like a baby,” I lied.
“Must have been the massage,” she giggled. “How is your neck and back?”
I actually hadn’t thought of that because the pain was gone. “Much better. I feel a lot looser now,” I said before realizing I chose the wrong word.
“I’m glad,” Kate said sincerely. “Tomorrow I intend to work those same areas.”
Those same areas, indeed, I thought.
“And I’d like to add some Shiatsu techniques, too. Would that be alright?”
“You know best. You did me right last night. I feel great.” Again, the wrong words.
“Great. I’ll see you tomorrow night. About 7:00 o’clock?” she asked innocently, being lady-like and ignoring my poor choice of words.
“7:00 o’clock is perfect.” We rang off.
Was I falling in love with Kate? Her voice made me tingle. I couldn’t help but look forward to our next session and hope she’d repeat the treatment.
Two days felt like two weeks. But they passed. I rang her doorbell and she answered immediately. She appeared as a goddess. This time I looked at her differently. Her chestnut hair tumbled down across her shoulders. Her makeup was subdued; some blush on her high cheekbones, a little eye shadow, mascara on her long lashes, and some lipstick. Her top enhanced her well-endowed figure. Her hips curved into low-cut jeans. Her legs were long and thin. She wore low pumps with a two inch heel. She noticed me eyeing her up and down and seemed to approve of that.
“You look nice,” I said coyly.
“Thank you,” she said with a smile, trying to fake modesty.
She looked sexy and she knew it. Long legs, generous uplifted round breasts, sumptuous hair, and pretty face. Every inch a woman.
It was her turn to ogle me. “You do too, Laura,” she said, pausing at my tummy. “You keep a nice figure. What’s your secret?”
“I work my abs and gluts a lot. Some arm workouts too. Shoulders and hips.”
“It certainly shows,” she exclaimed, her eyes now higher. “Well, shall we get started?”
“Sure, but first my shower.”
I was at ease in Kate’s soothing studio. Being with her in this serene ambiance produced a relaxed feeling. I emerged from the shower comfortably ensconced in the plush bathrobe. Fresh and clean, I climbed onto her table on my tummy. The atmosphere was much as before; soft music, scented candles, low lights. Once I was nestled under the warm bath towel she provided, Kate went right to work on my spine, neck, shoulders, legs, and feet. Her hands did their magic and again I was transported somewhere else. I was totally relaxed, semi-conscious, and floating.
“Turn on your back now,” cooed her soft voice.
I complied. She worked my neck, again tugging to stretch my spine. Then another soft scalp massage. I remained in my spell as she brushed my hair. She returned to my shoulders and then worked lower, her hands on my sides. She came around and massaged my abdomen, almost reaching my pelvic bone. She slowly worked back up to my tummy, then my ribcage, then my upper ribcage. She remained there a moment and in one gentle move she slid her hands up, squeezing my breasts together. I didn’t mind at all and made no protest. The bath towel dropped away. She held me at attention for a few seconds and then slowly released me. She then massaged each breast individually, handling me lovingly and gently. I made some soft cooing sounds as she petted me. She’d hold a breast erect with one hand as she massaged with the other, rubbing the nipple with her thumb.
“A proper massage here also helps relieve tension,” Kate said, pausing and squeezing me together. I glanced down. Her delicate hands on the sides of my breasts held me upright, enhancing my cleavage. For the first time, I noticed her glossy red nail polish. She was squeezing gently and her fingers pressed into soft flesh. My nipples stood erect between the semi-circle formed by her thumbs and index fingers. It made a fine sight and I felt a stirring.
“Our breasts have many nerve endings, making them as sensitive as they are. Done properly, a breast massage relieves tension and can improve posture,” she continued, as she resumed her treatment.
I was lost in her sultry voice and in her loving touch. She continued relieving my tension and improving my posture.
“You’re the envy of every woman,” Kate said, holding me. “Your breasts are perfect; generous, firm, yet soft. Spaced apart perfectly and topped with beautiful, pointy nipples,” she said admiringly, pinching and tugging on each.
I was always self-conscious of my size. I was embarrassed when I’d run or move quickly and they’d bounce. I didn’t like the attention they got from guys or the looks I got from women. I preferred to wear loose fitting flannel shirts or sweatshirts to conceal them.
“Yours are nice, too,” I stammered.
“I like yours better,” she said. “Here, compare the two. I mean the four,” she said with a giggle, removing her top.
Her breasts, restrained by her bra, were quite generous indeed. She removed her bra and her boobs spilled out.
“See? Mine aren’t as firm as yours and your nipples are better,” she said, holding herself up and then letting go. She held her own nipples between her thumb and forefinger to demonstrate the difference.
“Here, feel mine,” she said, guiding my hand to her. “Lift and squeeze.” I did as instructed.
“Now yours. Yours are firmer. Your nipples, too. Squeeze mine.”
She guided my other hand to her breast. I squeezed both nipples.
“Now squeeze yours.” I couldn’t tell much difference.
She resumed the massage, now topless, as she described our breast differences. This was nice; being massaged by a topless woman. I was out of my trance now and my attention was on her body as she worked. Her luxuriant hair spilled across her shoulders and fell onto her gorgeous boobs, alternately hiding one breast, leaving the other exposed as she moved, then revealing that swaying breast and hiding the other as she shifted her balance. She was art in motion. Pretty face, gorgeous hair, flat tummy, and swinging breasts, she was the model of femininity. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her.
I was completely naked and on my back at this point, a ringside seat to this lovely show. She worked lower and paused to reach for a tissue.
“You’re dripping wet,” she announced proudly, gently opening me and wiping my full length.
“Of course I am. How could I not be?” I said involuntarily.
Kate smiled back at me. “You’re so sweet, Laura,” she cooed as she dabbed my wetness.
She pulled me open to inspect me close up and gave me a gentle kiss. It was slow and loving and soft. She knew how to treat a girl. Instead of charging in with her tongue, licking like a dog, she approached carefully, respectfully, with feminine confidence, and kissed me. She repeated with an assortment of tender kisses and caresses. She took my lips between hers and travelled up and down, gently tugging all the while. She began some deep kisses, as if she was making out with me. After countless soothing kisses she tenderly rode her tongue several times up and down my full length. She took my clitoris out and lovingly kissed it. It was exhilarating. She toyed with it, sometimes softly and sometimes stiffening her tongue and flicking me. I was so swollen now that she took it between her lips and moved her head to and fro, gliding over it. With this level of expert attention it didn’t take long. I finished with an explosion.
With her caring touch, Kate gave me multiples and kept me on the crest for what seemed like hours. She focused with intensity on my clitoris and worked it with fingers and tongue. My emotions were wild; I had tears in my eyes.
After an eternity she let me down. As I lay there panting and wiping my tears, she kept perfectly still, her tongue parked inside me. After three minutes she pulled me open and inundated me with soft, affectionate kisses.
“So gentle,” I cooed.
To finish properly, she gave a cleansing lick and a soft kiss. I was completely spent.
She rose and repeated “You’re so sweet, Laura,” as she covered me with the bath towel. She produced a warm cloth and cleaned me. She then resumed brushing my hair for ten minutes while I regained my composure. Our session complete, I rose and dressed.
“Let’s schedule our next session for Saturday,” Kate said, as she adjusted herself in her bra.
“I’m working Saturday until 5:00 o’clock.”
“Then we’ll make it 7:00 o’clock. I’ll have the house to myself, so we’ll have our privacy,” she said with a furtive grin.