My Husband’s Massage Betrayal with My Best Friend - Chapter 4: Chapter 4

My legs jerked back instinctively, muscles coiled to deliver a sharp kick.
But the guy was quicker - his hands clamped down on my ankles like vices before sliding upward with deliberate pressure, working every inch up to my thighs. The intense kneading sent liquid heat straight to my core. A traitorous moan slipped past my lips before I could bite it back.
To my relief, after thoroughly working my legs, he finally released me. Was this some kind of twisted game? I dug my nails into my palms, schooling my face into careful neutrality.
The sounds from my side had been embarrassingly loud. Daniel had to have heard, yet he made zero move to check on me. I gnawed my lower lip as anger simmered in my gut. How could he just ignore some strange man manhandling me? Meanwhile, I could practically see him getting cozy with his female masseuse. The mental image sent jealous fury licking through my veins.
Oh, we were definitely having words about this insane arrangement when we got home. What if things escalated next time?
Finally, the suspicious noises from Daniel's side tapered off. His satisfied groan cut through the silence, followed by the telltale rustle of fabric. Those weren't normal massage sounds - more like... his usual post-performance noises. And that masseuse's voice? Weirdly familiar.
I must be losing it from jealousy overload.
Daniel emerged looking disgustingly refreshed, the masseuse trailing behind him with that unmistakable post-coital glow. I shot him my best death glare. He gets to have all the fun while I'm stuck getting groped and overthinking myself into an early grave. Never. Again.
At home, I cornered him immediately. "What exactly went down with your masseuse?"
His lips quirked. "Getting possessive, sweetheart? Whatever happened with your guy, I did with mine."
Bullshit. I rolled my eyes so hard I saw my brain.
Still fuming, I turned in early, curious if today's "therapy" yielded any results. But Daniel was completely tapped out - couldn't even muster a half-assed effort.
Furious, I cursed that quack doctor to hell and back.
Daniel actually defended him. "Easy there, tiger. His method kinda worked - just missed the target."
"Like today, imagining you with that masseur—"
"Nothing happened!" I snapped.
He raised his hands. "Obviously, my angelic wife. All in my head."
"But picturing you with him lit me up - just... not where it counts."
So Mr. Cool had gotten jealous too. That took some sting out of my anger - toward both him and the doctor.
We agreed to revisit Dr. Winston tomorrow for plan B. The man did come highly recommended, after all.
Next day in his office, the doctor listened intently before declaring with unsettling confidence: "The treatment works - you just need more intense stimulation!"