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A young widow has lucky breaks.

It felt too good. It had always seemed a pity to me that masseurs didn't do breasts. It felt so fucking good.

After Jay finished my back, he started massaging my arms. He took my forearm into his hand and stroked down, so that his hand ended up in mine. I squeezed my fingers around his. The gesture was spontaneous, but it made heat rise to my cheeks.

After he massaged my arms, I asked him to massage my hip joints. I had some pain in my low back, and thought it might be due to tight hips.

JAY wrapped his fingers around my hip-bones, dug in, and stroked up, but my body didn't sigh as I'd expected it to. The problem was somewhere else.

JAY ran his hand from my shoulders down to my butt, and then he started kneading my butt cheek. He pushed his knuckle in a bit, and I yelped.

"Too hard?"

"Yeah, but it's probably good for me," I replied, figuring that the tension in my back was due to my tight ass.

He ignored my masochistic request and lightened his touch.

He skirted [T J1]his fingertips lightly over my thighs as if flirting, as if teasing.

Artist, I thought. This man is a touch artist.

"That feels really good,"

"As long as you're happy, I'm happy."

I blushed into my head rest. If that didn't sound like pillow talk, I didn't know what did.

"How's the pressure?"

"Perfect." I purred.

His fingers crept closer and closer to my pussy, and I wondered if he'd touch me.

He didn't. Instead he pulled down on the skin of my inner thighs, sending tingles to my pussy.

A whimper, barely audible, escaped my mouth.

Maybe, I should ask him out after the massage I thought, though it felt slightly inappropriate. I wondered if the attraction was mutual. If it was, surely, I'd feel it in his touch.

I closed my eyes and focused in on his touch. He dragged his pinky down my leg, as if caressing me. Flirty mister.

He shifted to my other leg.

"Feels good?"

"Silly question. The whole thing feels amazing," I teased.

He chuckled.

"Let me know if I'm talking too much,"

"You're not talking at all."

"Well I wasn't talking to give you a relaxing experience."

"Well I wasn't talking because you weren't talking."

"So what do you want to talk about?" he asked, as he dragged the pads of his fingers down my leg.

"You have a kid?"

"Yeah, four years old, but I'm not married."

I smiled at the unasked-for admission.


"I have a cat,"

"What's he like?"

He was making light circles around my calves, which felt so good that I had to pause.

"Black like a proper witch's cat with a little white neck."

"A tux."

He ran his hands down my thigh and then back up. His fingers brushed against my pussy.

My back jolted, lifted, and I trembled. My breath shook. He must have noticed.

He stroked down. It couldn't have been a mistake. Could it?

On the way up, his finger brushed against my pussy again. This time, he touched twice. It was intentional.

My body shook. I wanted to tell him that if he was going to do that, he'd better fuck me, but I remained silent, curious about what else he would do.

"You can turn over now," he said, and his voice sounded a little hoarse.

He lifted the sheet, and I turned over onto my back. He covered my breasts with the sheet and tucked it under.

He walked behind me and started massaging my neck.

I wondered if he noticed how quickly my chest was rising and falling.

"So tell me more about your cat."

Surely, he was teasing me. For once, I had nothing to say about my cat.

"What did you do before massage?"

"Acupressure, which is sort of the same thing," he said as he massaged my collarbones.

I nodded. It was what I expected. He had found his calling early on.

Through the sheet, he ran his fingers down my scapula, over the ribs and around my breasts. I felt my nipples harden. He ignored them. Frustrated, I wondered if he limited his groping to touches that could be dismissed as accidental.

He walked over to my side, lifted the sheet and tucked it under my other thigh.

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