The Masseuse

"Please turn over, I will get a cloth for your eyes," she whispers. Embarrassed I quickly roll over, readjust my fully erect cock and fix the towel on my waist. She turns back with a face towel and we lock eyes, she smiles and asks if I am enjoying it. "It's great," I respond, feeling my face blush slightly. She places the cloth over my eyes and I can see her glance down at my hardening cock under the towel before the room goes black. She works the front of my thighs. Moving slowly up to the front of my hips, almost sliding her hands under the towel. She squeezes hard and drags her fingernails back down my thighs. I exhale deeply. She slides her hand back up my thighs and reaches the towel, she slides both hands under and pushes her palms into the base of my pubic bone. She lifts her fingers off my skin and slides them over the shaft of my hard cock. I moan.

I can hear her walk around the top of the table and stand above my head. She reaches down and lays my arms above my head. She works my chest, sliding down the side of my ribs and back up. She runs her fingers across my nipples. Damn that feels good, I think to myself. She reaches down my abdomen and slides her hands along both sides for my cock. I feel the fabric of her tank top on my chin. I inhale deeply and can smell her faint perfume. She leans over further and I can feel her confined breasts on my cheeks. I reach my hand out to feel her butt.

"Excuse me?" she says sternly. "Oh, I'm sorry," I reply, dumbfounded and embarrassed. "You're not allowed to touch me," she states as she stands and steps back from the table. "I'm sorry, it won't happen again." "You're correct, it won't," she responds. I feel something cold around my wrists, the distinctive clicking. My wrists can't move. Unable to see. "What the fu..." "Don't worry," she interrupts, as she kneels beside my head. "You're in good hands," she whispers in my ear.