Skin, Sinew, Muscles

Today, for the first time in my life, I was reduced to parts.  I was reduced to skin, sinew, and muscles.  And it was the most sensuous experience of my life.

Today I had my first massage.

For years, I shied away from the idea of a massage.  My personal credo was, “Maintain three feet of personal space at all times.”  That ended today.  My massage came courtesy of a friend who just wanted to say thank you – I told her later I like how she shows her appreciation.

Nervous does not begin to describe how I felt when I walked into the room and he explained how this was going to work.  He seemed surprised when I admitted my lack of experience.  When I laid down on the table, pulling the sheet over myself to maintain a sense of modesty, a sheen of sweat covered my body.

As he began working his special voodoo magic on my tired muscles, I relaxed to such a degree that no one thought could be contained in my head for more than a moment.  He reduced my world to his hands and muscles.  His fingers prodded, kneaded, worked my muscles and skin.  I could feel the outline of sinew in my arms, shoulders, and neck.

Realizing he was the consummate professional, I only fleetingly wondered if my body repulsed him.  I rejected the thought because surely he sees every body type in a given day.  I am no different than most women and slightly more fit than others – inconsequential, really.  As his hands moved down to my lower back, just above my ass, I used every ounce of will power not to arch like a cat, not to respond.

As his magic hands worked my legs, my pussy pulsed.  I hoped beyond hope he could not tell.  I kept my eyes closed to block out everything but the feeling of his hands and my muscles.  When I turned over, and he worked the tops of my thighs, I wanted to lean into his hands; I wanted to spread wide for more thorough ministrations.

I realized, somewhere between the first desire to arch my back and the second time my cunt throbbed that this was the most physical contact I’d had with a man in months, many long months.  He may have been gay.  He may have been repulsed.  He may have been completely neutral, simply doing a job he enjoys.  None of that mattered.  My state of arousal increased exponentially as his fingers and hands kneaded and massaged this muscle, that body part. I ached for him to be someone I desired.  I ached to be touched by someone I craved.

In the end, I became less than the sum of my parts.  He not only gave me a desire for release, he gave me a new perspective on my own body.  Taken as a whole, I do not always like what I see.  Today, I became simply a delicate neck, a long arm, a strong thigh, a smooth back, and ultimately a throbbing pussy demanding attention.