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I learned the art of massage from J., a new age woman who’d studied at Easalen in Northern California. J was older, tall. lanky and gave very good, very sensual massages. J. maintained her lifestyle by doing private massage and a majority of her clients were women; I think by her choice. She had male clients too, but even though they paid her more, she didn’t seem to like working on them as much.

The first time J gave me a massage, it was my first experience receiving a professional massage, and I became extremely aroused. J wasn’t a bit troubled by the sight of my erect cock, she made no move to cover my erection, nor did she say anything negative. Too my surprise, she contained that arousal by giving me one of the best blowjobs I’ve ever experienced.

J took her time during the massage, teasing and occasionally touching my penis until I was ready to explode, drawing it out until I was ready to beg her to touch my hard cock. J was skillful, and at the height of my lust and frustration, she leaned over and took my cock deep into her mouth and throat. She worked it down to the base, swallowing as she deep throated my cock to the hilt, then sucking and pulling her lips back up to the glans. It was an incredible climax, and I almost passed out from the intensity of it. Looking back now, I think she passed some of her power and mastery of the art of massage to me at that moment, similar to the way I’ve heard Yogi Masters pass their knowledge on to their students.

Hotel massage in Las Vegas had been men working on men, women working on women for about 20 years. In the early 90’s, a couple of therapists changed things. They petitioned the city fathers to allow them to do cross gender massage. It caught the attention of the hotel operators and legislation was passed allowing cross-gender massage on a trial basis.

In the beginning, I was very conscious of the whole cross gender, male female thing and I beşevler escort did my best to be professional. Yet, there was something in my touch, something that aroused women whether that was my intention or not. Perhaps it was J’s training, perhaps it was just my hormones, but I was aware that women were exotic creatures and not just pieces of flesh. I massaged them with an attitude of devotion, as if I were being given a special opportunity and I used the best combination of pressure, music, and technique that I could. My women clients would respond to this and I received more requests than most other therapists.

For whatever reason, a majority of the women I worked on would respond sexually.

The first time this happened in the hotel was during a half hour massage, shortly after we began cross-gender. I no longer remember her name, only her face, hair and her exquisite body. I will call her M.

M was a stunningly beautiful girl who was a cheerleader with the Oakland Raiders. Long, dark brown hair, olive skin and beautiful muscle tone — her presence was breath taking. She was so physically attractive, it almost took my breath away when we walked into the small massage room. It was all I could do to stammer out the instructions for her to disrobe and mount the table.

Because it was only a 1/2 hour massage, I began with M lying face up, on her back. I put a bolster under her knees, spreading her legs slightly, then placed a rolled towel under her head, wanting to make her as comfortable as possible on the table.

I began her massage with slow, firm strokes, working under her neck and shoulders, pulling and kneading the long muscles in her back from underneath. M made tiny little pleasure noises and I noticed her nipples seemed erect under the thick towel. I worked her shoulders and then a little bit on the front part of her chest büyükesat escort and pecs, taking care not to let my hot, oily hands slide to far down her chest. Her skin was olive with fine pores that made it silky soft and a joy to touch. My heart was racing and I restrained myself from sliding my hands under the towel and cupping those large, firm breasts.

M must have sensed my desire to touch her because without any warning, she pulled the drape towel down to her flat tummy, fully exposing those two luscious breasts. They were beautiful, firm with large brown aureoles and fully erect, large nipples. I thought my heart would explode, and I was conflicted by a variety of feelings. My sense of ‘professionalism’ was saying: “This is wrong.” , my essence as a man saying: “Everything is fine.”

Truthfully, having had years to reflect on this, I didn’t have the strength to pull that towel back up and cover her breasts. Her feminine ‘musk’ was too powerful and I didn’t have the strength to resist what had been offered.

I worked my hands down to her breasts and they felt even better than they looked. I took a deep breath, squirted some almond oil in palm, heated it by rubbing my palms together, and proceeded to massage her extraordinary breasts. They were firm and I was gentle as I kneaded her flesh in my hands, trying to engulf each breast with both hands. My touch was gentle and firm, with just a little extra pressure to see if she would respond to a slight amount of pain. She didn’t, so I circled my palm around her nipples and felt the pressure of her erect flesh against my hand.

I felt her heart beating rapidly, and noticing how her breathing had quickened, I worked my way quickly down to her legs, conscious of the time. It was only a 1/2 hour and I didn’t want to run over or out of time,– that would cause suspicion on the part of the female çankaya escort attendants who would greet M when she got back to the women’s portion of the spa. Adding to the tension was my enjoyment of touching this beautiful, sensual creature and I didn’t want the experience to end.

I turned M. over and worked the muscles of her calves and thighs, using long, slow strokes and the deep pressure that I had learned so well from my past teacher. M responded by grinding her pelvis into the table, her way of silently telling me all was good. She moved in unison with my stroking, as my hands traveled up from her calves to her thighs, she would grind her hips into the table with a circular motion. The room was heavy with an air of hot, moist sexuality and I could seen a thin sheen of perspiration on her shoulders and back. The towel had fallen unnoticed to the floor and I could vaguely smell the scent of clean woman sex, a faint, musty aroma of aroused flesh and wet pussy.

My desire to penetrate M was fierce, it took enormous control not to unzip my pants and pull her back on the table, back to where I could get my throbbing cock at her wet, slick cunt. I didn’t though, there was no way I could allow myself to take that liberty with her body. Instead, I continued massaging the backs of her thighs and M continued to grind her pelvis into the table jerking her ass up into the air as she came in a series of thrusts and jerks, her body experiencing a powerful climax.

I leaned over and whispered: “You’re a very beautiful woman and you have a beautiful sexuality. Thank you for allowing me to share.” M said nothing in reply and I stepped from the room, saying I would be waiting for her in the hall when she was ready to return to the spa.

As I waited outside the room, a thousand thoughts raced through my mind. No one was waiting outside the door. My cock had returned to a more manageable state. My underwear kept the pre-cum from showing on my pants. I felt good, vital, sexual and very much alive.

When M stepped from the room, she must have felt the same, there was a bright gleam in her eyes, a tiny smile and she was perfectly composed. One would never know that just five minutes before this same beautiful woman was writhing in orgasm on my massage table.

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