I’m reorganising and reposting this series over the next few days, because the automod took down several parts for not following the sub’s new rules about title formatting. Guess it’s a good opportunity to add those tags to the title, and new story parts :)

I hope you’ll enjoy reading this story as much as I have writing it, and feedback is of course very welcome.

To my surprise, the doorbell is answered by a young woman in her early 20s, looking at me with surprised blue eyes from the entranceway of her hotel room.

Her soft features are framed by ash-blonde hair tied in the back in a ponytail, and she is wearing a tight t-shirt and gym shorts that do little to hide her toned legs.

I quickly look up at her, checking my wandering gaze, and give her a professional smile. I reach down to pick up the heavy bag and portable massage table from the floor next to my feet.

“I apologise, ma’am; the concierge must have made a mistake. If you’re willing to wait a moment, allow me to send for a female therapist to assist you.”

As I look back at her, I catch her glancing at my own torso and arms. I was an athlete before I got into massage therapy, and I do try to stay in shape. I see her surprise melt slowly into a curious smile.

She says tentatively, “Well, actually, I don’t mind you giving me a massage at all. If… you don’t mind either, that is.”

I pause for a moment. It’s my first week on this job, and I really don’t want to mess this gig up. “I… You’re Ash? Ash Johnson?”

“Yeah,” she says with a chuckle, “and from that name you can see why some think I’m a guy.”

I shake my head and smile. “Alright, you got me for the next hour, Ash. Just let me bring the equipment in.”

Just an hour; what could go wrong?

~~

“Ma’am, please remove all your jewellery, and undress to whatever feels most comfortable for you.”

“Mm-hmm….” Ash calls out lazily from the bathroom.

I had just gotten the massage table, towels, and oils set up beside her bed, when she comes out of the bathroom wearing a bathrobe. The front of the robe is open just enough to reveal the top of her cleavage, and her smooth thighs peek out with each step.

She walks up close to me, and pushes a few stray stands of hair back behind her ear with a slightly-embarrassed smile. “You know… I’ve never actually gotten a massage from a guy.”

“Hey, don’t worry,” I look down at her with a professional and reassuring smile. “You can just imagine that I’m a set of disembodied hands. Or a woman!” I laugh. Just trying to ease her nerves.

Her embarrassment turns into a smile, and a chuckle. She then deliberately, slowly, looks over my body, from the broad shoulders holding up my light linen shirt, to my toned arms, and down to my gym sweatpants. She gives me a small wink. “Definitely not mistaking you for a woman.”

Before I manage to hold up a sheet for her modesty, she takes the bathrobe off one shoulder, then another, and lets it fall around her feet.

She is wearing a white string bikini that only just covers her round B-cup breasts, and her slim, toned waist curves into hips with little knots that hold her small bikini bottoms in place.

She gives give me a playful smile, then lies face down on the massage table. I reluctantly cover her bare back and cute ass with a sheet.

~~

“So, track?”

“Mm-hmm. You could tell from touching me?” she replies cheekily while facing the carpeted hotel floor.

“Heh. Did sports massage for a few years before this, so I know an athlete when I see one. I guess you’re in town for the meet?”

I’ve started working on her legs, after carefully pulling back the bottom left corner of the sheet. I knead her calves, then gently work my way to her thighs, massaging the sides, then the inner muscles. I smile when I feel her squirm a little with pleasure.

“Yup, but I suck, definitely not gonna win any- Oh. That’s… nice.” She exhales slowly. “Um, sorry, that felt really good.”

“No need to apologise, ma’am. It really helps me to know what’s working for you.”

I work my oiled hands up her thighs, always carefully shifting the sheets to make sure she is covered where I’m not massaging. I listen to her quickening breaths and feel every squirm of her body, finding and releasing the tension in her muscles.

As I start to knead the bottom of her glutes, she reaches down and slowly pulls the sheet aside, uncovering more of her lower body. I feel my sweatpants straining at the crotch as I stare at her perfect back and firm ass, barely covered by her tiny white bikini.

“Sorry. This is really embarrassing to say, but…” she points, “I usually ask massage therapists to focus on my glutes. They’re pretty much always sore from all the training. If it’s… alright with you, of course.”

I look at her ass. It is definitely alright with me. “No need to be embarrassed, ma’am. It really helps when you tell me what you need.”

I slowly work her butt, starting from the bottom where they meet her smooth thighs, and slowly run my oiled hands over her firm cheeks, shifting her bikini bottoms slightly for better access.

When I start to knead her glutes, I hear her exhale, and wonder if I’d hit a knot, and then I see her slowly spread her legs a little. I can see the outline of her bald pussy straining against the fabric of her bikini that barely covers her lips. I feel glad that she is facing down, because my large erection is obviously tenting my pants.

I work her butt more, and then knead with my thumbs stroking her inner thighs, wondering if her movements were an invitation to massage there. Then I hear her breathe in sharply.

“Ma’am, is this alright? If you’re uncomfortable with any-”

“Mm-hmm!,” she hums breathlessly, “just… keep going… please.”

I knead more, and let my thumbs stroke her inner thighs, inching closer and closer to her lips. I hear her breathing quicken, and she parts her smooth, oiled legs even more. I feel her hips move, very gently starting to thrust against the mattress.

I know this is wrong, and I might lose my job. But… a little more wouldn’t hurt, right? This does seem like what my client wants after all… right?

“Mmmph!” Ash gasps when my thumb brushes the side of her shaved pussy, and slowly runs along the edge of her bikini. Is that the massage oil, or her juices?

“Ma’am-”

“Fuck…” she can barely speak, “shut the… fuck up… and just keep going.”

My own erection throbbing painfully in my sweatpants, I move my fingers between her legs and gently run them across Ash’s pussy lips. She moans audibly now, and raises her hips to give me better access.

My own desire hardened, I rub her pussy in earnest over the thin fabric of her bikini, while my other hand makes long strokes over her slender back.

Her hips jerk involuntarily, making her firm ass wobble, when I reach the vicinity of her engorged clit, and she starts to move her hips with my stroking, almost humping my hand, more and more urgently.

“Fuck… oh fuck…” Her breathing heightens, and I see her grip the edge of the massage table hard with one hand, and her other hand suddenly reaches down to grab my fingers. She moans and her hips buck, and then does so again, and again. It takes a few seconds for her to calm down.

“Oh fuck,” she says softly, “a… small one.” Her head is turned to the side, partially facing me, and she is still breathing hard. “I’m… I’m so sorry. It just… happened.”

I can only smile, lost for words. “I’m glad it… well, ma’am… maybe I shouldn’t have…”

Turning slightly to her side, she looks down at the obviously-rock-hard erection straining in my sweatpants, then looks up at me with a small smile.

“You don’t have to call me ma’am. And… could you do my front too?”

All my training as a massage therapist is telling me to shut this down: I had crossed a line, and it doesn’t matter that she had obviously enjoyed it… very much.

As my first head struggles with guilt, and my second struggles against my pants, I muster as much professionalism I still have, and hold up the sheet for Ash to turn to her front. She looks at me with something like wonder in her eyes, and turns.

~~

I focus on what Ash needs, and work hard on her neck and shoulders—often-neglected areas for a runner.

The thick sheets wrap her snugly, with only the top of her breasts showing, and at times the young woman closes her eyes with a contented smile. My own excitement slowly softens as I focus on her muscle knots and on releasing her tension.

As I start to work on her upper chest, she opens her eyes again. “Thanks,” she says with a shy smile.

“For?” I smile in return while stroking her soft chest above her shapely breasts.

“For not making this weird after I… you know.”

“Were you expecting something different?” Is she blushing?

She chuckles embarrassedly. “You know what I mean! Things get hot and heavy in the massage room, and boom, cock’s out, and pound town!”

I laugh while kneading the top of her breasts where it meets her pecs, shifting the strings of her white bikini when they get in the way. “I see somebody watches too much massage porn!”

She looks away to face her bed, with a guilty smile. “… maybe.”

“Thankfully,” I say with a grin, “this isn’t that kind of story.” I notice one of her hands has moved beneath the sheets to rest around her upper thighs.

She turns back and looks at me with bright blue eyes. “So what did you do before you started touching people?” she asks with a chuckle.

“Heh, funny. Interestingly, athletics too; not too different from you. I was more a long distance guy. Won a few events, nothing too spectacular.”

“Ooh, everybody check out Mister Cardio here!”

I look around her hotel room—a relatively neat king-sized bed and comfy couch, and is that two sets of bags I see?—and pretend to wave to a cheering crowd.

Ash laughs, and extends a hand from under the sheets to punch me playfully, only succeeding in prodding at my abs… a few times. I see her mouth nice and her fingers take maybe a little longer than necessary to trail across my body.

“Hey Mister Cardio, gimme a sec, I actually only wore a bikini top because you’re a guy. But since you’re actually just a set of disembodied hands…”

She sits up while holding the sheet to her chest, reaches back, and slowly undoes the back of her bikini top. She lies back down, the tiny white triangles now draped loosely over her B-cups. “I’ll let you do the honors,” she says with a playful wink.

I slowly lift her bikini top, to reveal perfect, perky breasts that end in soft-pink nipples. I gaze a moment, then reach for the sheets, but she reaches up and squeezes my forearm.

“It’s ok,” she says softly, “no need to cover me up.”

She looks into my eyes with a slightly nervous smile, then guides my hand to her right breast. She is a soft handful in my hand, and as she breathes heavily, I feel her nipple harden as it rubs against my palm.

~~

I drip more oil on her shapely breasts, and stroke lightly at first, running my fingers along the sides before following their curves, inching closer to her pink areolae.

Ash’s eyes are closed, but her mouth is half-open in pleasure. I see her hands moving beneath the sheet covering her lower body. Standing over her, my erection is growing in my sweatpants again, just next to and above her head.

Her body flinches and her heavy breaths sharpen into a gasp as I drip warm oil on her nipples, and touch them gently, caressing them as they harden even more.

Her hips thrust slightly and her legs writhe under the sheet, pulling it down, and I can see that her hand is inside her tiny white bikini bottoms. A wet squelch breaks the relative silence and her eyes open.

She looks up with guilty eyes, but her mouth is half-open with desire, her ashy blonde hair a mess. “I’m… sorry. I just… I can’t… if you don’t mind…”

In reply, I bend down more, shift my hands and swirl her nipples in a circular motion with my heavily oiled fingers. I notice that the large tent in my pants is nearly touching the side of Ash’s head.

“Fuck…” she arches her back, trying to push her breasts harder into my hand. She stuffs more of her hand into her bikini bottom, and I smell her scent, see her mound, and see and hear her glistening fingers working hard.

I bend down more over her. Without neglecting her nipples, with one hand I rub her slim, toned tummy, moving ever-lower, towards her mound. When she gasps at my movement, I realise that my raging-hard cock, through my sweatpants, is resting squarely on the side of her face.

Panting hard, with one hand still rubbing her wet pussy, she reaches up with her other hand, and pulls at my waistband. “Fuck it… Let’s… test that endurance of yours… Mister Cardio…”

(To be continued…)