My Husband’s Massage Betrayal with My Best Friend - Chapter 3: Chapter 3

"Madam, your skin is remarkably supple."
Heat flooded my cheeks as I shot him a sharp glance.
Was that really part of the massage?
This felt less like therapy and more like... something else.
Yet the man showed no hint of shame. Instead, as if testing the comparison, he repeated the motion on my other side.
Two simple touches—and I was undone.
Humiliation warred with something darker, something thrilling, coiling low in my stomach.
I buried my face in the crook of my arm. "Just... get on with it already."
His hands began their work, gliding in slow, deliberate circles—starting at the edges, then spiraling inward, mapping every inch of skin.
His touch was bold, skirting dangerously close to places that made my breath hitch.
With every stroke, my body betrayed me, trembling beneath his fingers.
Gradually, resistance gave way. My muscles melted, leaving me pliant, boneless—as if he'd drained every ounce of tension from me.
After working down my back, those warm, rough hands slipped past my waist, over my hips, then lower—down my thighs, teasingly slow.
My ankles were my undoing.
Cradled in his grip, my entire body thrummed with restless energy. Nerves, tension, and something far more dangerous pulsed through me.
His fingers lingered, as if savoring my reaction, before kneading the sensitive spot with torturous precision.
A spark shot up my spine. Heat pooled low, insistent.
A whimper escaped before I could stop it.
Daniel had told me to sell it—to make it convincing—but the embarrassment still burned.
I could almost feel his gaze through the divider, watching, judging.
That illicit thrill returned, sharpening every sensation. The barest touch sent shocks through me.
"Daniel... how's your side going?"
Silence. Then—
Heavy breathing.
My stomach twisted. What were they doing over there?
The sounds were... distracting. Until the therapist flipped me onto my back.
His hands molded me like clay, firm and unyielding.
Exposed. Vulnerable. My mind went blank.
Nervousness. Shyness. And beneath it all—want.
Instinctively, I crossed my arms over my chest, my heart hammering.
Then—darkness. A blindfold slid into place.
"Better, Madam?"
Oddly, it was. The shame dulled, leaving only raw anticipation.
My senses sharpened.
From Daniel's side, the sounds grew louder—not just jealousy now, but something wilder, hungrier.
I wanted that. Needed it.
My arms were gently pried away, leaving me open, bared.
Then his hands—scorching—pressed against my stomach.
The heat was unbearable.
In the darkness, I surrendered. Focused only on the path of those hands.
The dip of my waist. The flare of my hips. Then—my thighs.
Suddenly, my leg was lifted.
My heart stuttered. Electricity jolted through me, leaving half my body numb.
What—what was he—?
Through the blindfold's gap, I saw him part my legs—and drape them over his shoulders.