At 38 years old, I’ve reached a point where I don’t want to deny myself anymore. Life is too short to hold back, especially when something makes my heart race. I know some might judge or not understand, but I’ve had a kind of awakening. So between my boyfriend, his best friend, and now the osteopath, I’m giving myself the freedom to live out my fantasies. That’s exactly why I found myself back at the clinic, even though, if I’m being honest, my visit had absolutely nothing to do with my back.

The osteopath had been very insistent during my last visit: “You need to come back soon to keep everything properly aligned.” I pretended to believe him, but deep down, I knew what he really meant. He wasn’t worried about my posture or my spine. And, truth be told, I wasn’t coming back for any medical reason either. I have a feeling he understood why I’d been there the last two times.

He isn’t much older than me, maybe in his early forties, but there is something about him that feels so effortlessly masculine. Tall, broad shouldered, with a quiet confidence that doesn’t feel forced. He isn’t flashy or overly groomed, just raw and magnetic. The kind of man who doesn’t need to try to draw you in. And me? I am completely drawn in.

This time, it was my boyfriend who unknowingly pushed me to make the appointment. He’d caught me stretching awkwardly in the morning and decided to play the hero. “You should go back to that osteopath,” he said, pulling out his wallet. “I’ll cover it. You need to take care of yourself.” He’s just so adorable.

If only he knew.

When I got ready, everything was planned to be as sexy as possible. I chose a tight white blouse, short-sleeved and unbuttoned just enough to tease, and paired it with snug black leggings that clung to me like a second skin, perfectly highlighting every curve. Underneath, I slipped into a bright yellow lace thong, just visible enough to peek out above the waistband. I added small yellow ankle socks and tied a cute yellow ribbon in my hair. It’s a little too youthful for my age, but that’s the point it adds an innocent vibe. I even skipped the bra on purpose, knowing it wouldn’t give me the chance to cover up when the moment came. Everything about this look feels deliberate, leaving no room for going back when it’s time to undress 🤫

When I walked into the living room, my boyfriend barely looked up from his phone. When he did, his eyes widened slightly. “Wow,” he said, half-laughing. “You’re all dressed up. What is this, a runway? You look like a bomb.”

I brushed off his comment with a laugh, but inside, I felt a rush of satisfaction. The irony was delicious, He was going to take me there by car, paying for this, completely clueless about my real intentions. Honestly, I love him so much...

When I arrived at the clinic, the osteopath greeted me with a warmth that felt far too intimate to be professional. For the first time, he used my name “Hello, Mélodie.” His eyes lingered on me, tracing the undone buttons of my blouse, the curve of my waist, the way my leggings hugged my hips. I felt like he knew exactly why I’d worn it.

“How are we feeling today?” he asked, leaning in slightly, of course I'm much smaller than him.

I gave him my usual excuse, a coy smile tugging at my lips. “Still a little tight.”

He gestured toward the treatment room, his eyes never leaving mine. “You can get comfortable,” he said softly.

Once inside, things moved quickly. I stepped behind the small screen to undress. My blouse came off first , letting it slip off my shoulders. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, bare skin glowing under the light, the bright yellow lace of my thong standing out against the black of my leggings. Peeling off the leggings was almost too much, the snug fabric clinging as I slid them down, leaving me in just the thong and socks. I adjusted the lace slightly, the yellow ribbon in my hair catching the light, adding an almost ironic innocence to the situation. I don’t know if you can imagine the scene, but I found it surreal!

When I stepped out, his reaction was immediate. His eyes raked over me, his smile slow and knowing. “You look… stunning,” he murmured ... My breath hitched. There wasn’t even a pretense of professionalism left. Let’s be real, I was standing there with my breasts pointed right at him!

For a moment, I almost felt like he was intimidated. When he told me to get on the massage table, I noticed he didn’t quite know where to look. For once, I felt like I had the upper hand. I lay down on my stomach, offering him the best possible view of my legs hanging off either side of the table, giving him an unobstructed look at my inner thighs. Most people would call him “lucky.”

When he asked me to get on all fours, I hesitated, not out of modesty but because of the heat building between us. I arched my back deliberately as I moved, tilting my hips just enough to catch his attention. His hands brushed my waist, adjusting me slightly. “Perfect,” he said softly, his voice thick. “You have the most breathtaking curves.”

Then, he placed his hands firmly on each of my ass cheeks, spreading them gently but purposefully, exposing me fully. His thumbs pressed into the soft flesh, while his fingers held me firmly, pulling me apart to leave no detail of me hidden. The intimate, deliberate motion sent a shiver through my body, my breath catching in my throat.

He kept running his thumb over my wet thong, clearly testing how far I would let him go. “I wonder if he’s trying to find out when I’ll stop him,” I thought briefly, “but anyone who knows me knows that once I’m excited, nothing stops me.”

When he asked me to lie on my back, legs bent and lifted high, he ask me to hold them in place. The position was intimate, exposing more than I should have been comfortable with, i'm still topless in front of him, I don't know if you see the thing!? But I didn’t care. He smiled, his gaze sweeping over me like he was savoring every inch. “You’re absolutely gorgeous,” he said, his voice husky.

Without hesitation, he slid my thong aside, staring at me with hunger. My freshly waxed skin, soft and flawless, seemed to captivate him. His fingers brushed against me before dipping deeper. His touch was firm. I gasped, my body responding in ways I couldn’t control. His movements grew bolder, quicker, his fingers finding every sensitive spot. The thought of someone waiting outside, completely oblivious, only heightened the thrill. I genuinely felt like his medical expertise took on a whole new meaning, he was going so fast, so hard, so deep, it felt like he was wrecking me in the best way possible in such a short time. I felt my pussy swell like never before, ready to explode. I held back from screaming in his office because I could tell he was giving me everything he had… even if it meant crushing me.

I couldn’t stop myself. My release came fast and hard, leaving me trembling beneath him, my breath ragged. When it was over, I realized I’d left a wet spot on his table. He didn’t seem to mind. His smile was smug, satisfied, as he adjusted his shirt and stepped back.

“All done,” he said, his voice calm but his eyes blazing with something darker. “That will be 70 euros,” he added casually, as if nothing had just happened. My hands trembled as I reached into my bag, pulling out the cash my boyfriend had given me earlier. As I handed it over, a sharp realization struck me. I just paid to be treated like a slut, I thought, biting back a smirk. The thought was thrilling, and shamefully, I almost enjoyed it.

Before I could fully regain my composure, he looked at me with that same knowing smile. “You should come back soon,” he said softly, his voice calm but insistent. “I can book you another appointment right now if you’d like.”

Trembling, my voice barely steady, I nodded. “Next week,” I murmured. He smiled as he noted it down, before handing me the card with the new appointment. As I left, walking out into the cold air, my legs felt weak, my heart racing as I replayed everything in my mind.

When I reached the car, I saw my boyfriend waiting, scrolling through his phone, his face lighting up with a smile when he saw me. “Everything good?” he asked, his voice full of concern and sweetness. “You look a little flushed. Do you feel better?” I smiled faintly, forcing a softness into my voice. “Perfect babe,” I replied.

As we drove off, he kept glancing at me with his warm, caring expression, offering to stop somewhere for a coffee or something sweet to cheer me up. I reassured him that I was fine, all while suppressing a smirk at the thought running through my mind: He’s paying for all this. How ironic and deliciously wicked, that he has no idea what he’s funding.