Massage Therapist Intern Pt. 01 - Sex Stories

Massage Therapist Intern Pt. 01

... junk swaying freely was exhilarating. The entrance to her studio was through a patio door at the back - I was to go through the gate to the patio -- Katie knew I would be waiting for her there as she finished up with her client. Moments after I arrived, the drape was pulled back and the door slid open to allow a well-dressed gentleman to exit. Katie remained inside and called for me to "c'mon in" as she stepped aside and invited me into the studio.

As she slid the door closed behind us, I took in my surroundings. I was impressed : a fully equipped space with a hydraulic table, an elevated pedicure chair with an attached footbath (perfect for foot massage) and a large glass paneled shower stall. A wheeled privacy screen was available for Katie and her clients to change behind. Blackout drapes allowed her to block the bright light flooding in, plunging the studio into darkness when called for. A subtle, relaxing atmosphere was created with soft music.

Because of my anxiousness, I was inside her studio before she had the chance to slip into a robe. At first, I was shocked, thinking that she was nude. Her erect nipples were impossible to miss and her body stocking was soaked in oil, giving her profile a glossy sheen. It hugged her like the stocking it was -- her bald pussy perfectly framed by a transparent cameltoe.

It never ceased to amaze me just how impressive Katie's physique was. I had done my fair share of sports in school and had grown to just over six feet tall ...

... with a slim, muscular build. But Katie (who was my mother's age) was Amazonian in her dimensions. Just short of six feet tall, she had a svelte and curvy figure, her firm and prominent breasts making her appear a bit top heavy. She had strong, muscular arms and legs from the years of practicing her trade. There was nothing frail about her, grace abounding.

She apologized profusely as she took a moment to cross the studio to fetch a terrycloth robe. It was entirely too small and clung to her oil-soaked skin, hanging open as she "struggled" to draw the lapels together. Not before I got a good look though - an extended glance at her exposed thighs and torso. As I stood there with my tongue hanging out, she slowly and immodestly fiddled with the robe, now soaked in oil, explaining that her last appointment had run a bit late. I wasn't sure how that explained her wardrobe disarray or whether all of this bare flesh was an accident or for my benefit but my 19 year old hormones were raging. My shorts had a distinct tent that was hard to miss.

Remembering my mother's advice, I rolled my tongue back into my mouth and told her I was fascinated by her line of work and that I admired her for it as I watched her fumbling with her robe. I told her I was interested in anatomy and physiology as I caught a generous view of her muscular torso. I enthused that I wanted to learn from the best as she appeared to give up on modesty and didn't bother to close her robe, the lapels left hanging ...