The Masseur’s Forbidden Touch - Chapter 1: Chapter 1
You are reading The Masseur’s Forbidden Touch, Chapter 1: Chapter 1. Read more chapters of The Masseur’s Forbidden Touch.
My best friend whispered about this exclusive, members-only spa—somewhere discreet, where women like me could find... relief.
I never expected my masseur to be a towering wall of muscle.
One visit was all it took. Like water to parched earth, I kept coming back for more.
"Mrs. Laurent, first time with us?" The therapist's voice was warm, practiced. "No need to be nervous. This is just a standard treatment—completely normal. Just relax and let me take care of you."
Her reassurance did little to ease the heat in my cheeks as I lay exposed on the table.
I nodded, squeezing my eyes shut.
"Since you've already showered, we'll begin with intimate care. Could you open your legs slightly for me?"
Her hands were gentle, but the touch still sent a jolt through me.
No one but my husband had ever seen me like this.
Even with her being a woman, shame prickled under my skin—yet beneath it, something else stirred.
My face burned hotter.
The therapist remained professional, her tone light.
"Mrs. Laurent, your file says you're married. But given your... sensitivity, I'm guessing intimacy isn't frequent?"
The question hit like a dull blade twisting in my chest.
Adrian Roscente—my husband—was every woman's fantasy. Tall, chiseled, effortlessly magnetic.
And utterly uninterested in sex.
Seven years of marriage, and I could count our encounters on one hand.
The first two years? Manageable. Once or twice a month, at least.
But as time passed, his desire vanished entirely. No matter how I teased, begged, or raged, he remained indifferent.
They say a woman's hunger peaks in her thirties.
At thirty-nine, mine was a gnawing, restless thing.
My best friend knew. That's why she slipped me the spa's name—with a knowing look.
It took weeks to muster the courage. Only when Adrian left for a business trip did I finally book an appointment.
The therapist's voice, low and smooth, melted some of my tension.
"Mrs. Laurent, sometimes couples need a spark. I notice you're untrimmed—would you prefer a full wax or just a tidy-up?"
I swallowed. "F-Full."
A nod. Then cold wax spread over my skin, making me shiver.
A warning. A sharp tug—
Pain flared, but so did something else. A gasp slipped out before I could stop it.
She soothed the sting with cool gel, then moved on.
"Next is deep cleansing. Some tools will need to... enter you."
My toes curled.
A thin tube slid inside, followed by warm water.
"Distilled water for internal cleansing. Showers don't always reach deep enough."
My ears burned, but the sensation wasn't unpleasant.
Then came the wash—cool, slightly acidic, perfectly balanced. She guided me to squeeze my thighs, rinse, repeat.
"All done. Now, your full-body aromatherapy massage."
Lavender oil warmed in her palms before gliding over my skin.
Heaven.
I nearly drifted off under her expert touch.
When she murmured, "All finished," I almost groaned in protest.
This was nice—but where was the more my friend had hinted at?
As if reading my mind, the therapist leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper.
"We also offer an advanced massage—one that includes... intimate stimulation. Would you like to try?"
I never expected my masseur to be a towering wall of muscle.
One visit was all it took. Like water to parched earth, I kept coming back for more.
"Mrs. Laurent, first time with us?" The therapist's voice was warm, practiced. "No need to be nervous. This is just a standard treatment—completely normal. Just relax and let me take care of you."
Her reassurance did little to ease the heat in my cheeks as I lay exposed on the table.
I nodded, squeezing my eyes shut.
"Since you've already showered, we'll begin with intimate care. Could you open your legs slightly for me?"
Her hands were gentle, but the touch still sent a jolt through me.
No one but my husband had ever seen me like this.
Even with her being a woman, shame prickled under my skin—yet beneath it, something else stirred.
My face burned hotter.
The therapist remained professional, her tone light.
"Mrs. Laurent, your file says you're married. But given your... sensitivity, I'm guessing intimacy isn't frequent?"
The question hit like a dull blade twisting in my chest.
Adrian Roscente—my husband—was every woman's fantasy. Tall, chiseled, effortlessly magnetic.
And utterly uninterested in sex.
Seven years of marriage, and I could count our encounters on one hand.
The first two years? Manageable. Once or twice a month, at least.
But as time passed, his desire vanished entirely. No matter how I teased, begged, or raged, he remained indifferent.
They say a woman's hunger peaks in her thirties.
At thirty-nine, mine was a gnawing, restless thing.
My best friend knew. That's why she slipped me the spa's name—with a knowing look.
It took weeks to muster the courage. Only when Adrian left for a business trip did I finally book an appointment.
The therapist's voice, low and smooth, melted some of my tension.
"Mrs. Laurent, sometimes couples need a spark. I notice you're untrimmed—would you prefer a full wax or just a tidy-up?"
I swallowed. "F-Full."
A nod. Then cold wax spread over my skin, making me shiver.
A warning. A sharp tug—
Pain flared, but so did something else. A gasp slipped out before I could stop it.
She soothed the sting with cool gel, then moved on.
"Next is deep cleansing. Some tools will need to... enter you."
My toes curled.
A thin tube slid inside, followed by warm water.
"Distilled water for internal cleansing. Showers don't always reach deep enough."
My ears burned, but the sensation wasn't unpleasant.
Then came the wash—cool, slightly acidic, perfectly balanced. She guided me to squeeze my thighs, rinse, repeat.
"All done. Now, your full-body aromatherapy massage."
Lavender oil warmed in her palms before gliding over my skin.
Heaven.
I nearly drifted off under her expert touch.
When she murmured, "All finished," I almost groaned in protest.
This was nice—but where was the more my friend had hinted at?
As if reading my mind, the therapist leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper.
"We also offer an advanced massage—one that includes... intimate stimulation. Would you like to try?"
End of The Masseur’s Forbidden Touch Chapter 1. Continue reading Chapter 2 or return to The Masseur’s Forbidden Touch book page.