Erotica Fantasy

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.

About the author

Kayla Lords

I am an erotic author, sex blogger, podcaster, freelance writer, an opinionated marketer, and speaker. You can find me online sharing my innermost sexual thoughts and experiences, teaching other bloggers how to make money writing about sex, and helping kinksters have healthy BDSM relationships. I'm also a masochistic babygirl submissive with an amazing and sadistic Daddy Dom and business partner, John Brownstone. Welcome to my kinky corner of the internet!

2 Comments

  • How have you managed to go without for so long? I’m addicted. I don’t care who the hands belong to, I love to be touched so completely like that. Turned me to mush.

    • Frankly, money and a personal space issue. The personal space issue is history…now I just have to figure out how to afford them…and I’m not giving up my Brazilians to make room for massages…nope, not gonna happen!

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