Madame B - Ecstasy

"I could just stay here all day, couldn't you?" a girl next to me asked in a lazy, sleepy voice.

"I've only just got here, but I like it so far," I replied. "I haven't been here before."

"Ooh…" she breathed, her voice slow and unhurried. "Who are you seeing?"

"Adi," I replied.

There was a collective intake of breath and then a sigh, like a wave of tiny orgasms rippling over the women surrounding me. Someone stifled a giggle.

"Oh!" said a voice in the mist. "Lucky you!" More giggles and sighs came, but before I had time to ask what they meant, a male voice called my name through the mist.

I gathered my towel about me and exited through a pointed arch, down a tiled corridor, and into a smaller chamber where Adi was waiting for me. He was aston ishingly good-looking. Tall, broad, and well muscled, he wore a white robe that showed off tight buttocks and strong arms and legs. He smiled and gestured toward the stone slab in the middle of the room.

"Please, Helen," said the voice I'd recognized on the phone. "Make yourself comfortable." And with that, he took away my towel so that I was naked in front of him. Feeling clumsy and vulnerable, I lay facedown on the slab and closed my eyes. The slab was hot and felt good against my skin, like the warm, baked glow you feel when you've spent the day lying out in the sun.

Without further warning, Adi began to work on my body, taking a loofah and scrubbing my skin hard and fast. Working his way up from my feet, he left no inch untouched. He used the loofah to make small, harsh circles on my skin so intense that they burned. When he worked on my inner thighs I had to stuff my fist in my mouth to stop myself from crying out in pain. He made sweeping motions along my buttocks, pummeling and kneading deep into my flesh, scraping up and down my back, bringing the surface of my flesh to life wherever he touched it.

As he polished my skin, I could feel something inside me melt, give way, dissolve. The body that had been tense and rigid for so long was finally coming back to life. Adi bent double to scrub my back. His breath on my skin unleashed months of pent-up sexual frustration, and I felt sensual, alive to the touch, turned on. Wildly turned on. As the front of my body was ground into the hot stone slab, I could feel my nipples hardening, and a pulsing heat started spreading between my legs. I wondered how much Adi could see in the half-light and the steam. Part of me wanted him to know about this unexpected wave of horniness that had engulfed me. As the pulse in my pussy turned to a throb, I knew I was getting wet. I hoped that the soapy water splashing between my legs wouldn't wash away my own cunt juices and that the sweet spicy scent wouldn't overwhelm my own natural aroma.

"Please turn over, madam," said Adi, turning his back while I slithered all over the marble, propping myself up on my elbows, and eventually made myself comfortable on my back. If Adi hadn't guessed that I was turned on before, he would now: My face was flushed, my nipples were stiff, and my clitoris was so engorged I was sure it would be visible. If he noticed, he was too professional, or polite, to say anything, and began his routine of scrubbing and polishing again, working his way up the front of my legs. His hands crept farther and farther toward my pussy, working on my knees, then my inner thighs, so close that I thought he was about to touch my clit-and I wouldn't have stopped him. But with his fingers just inches away from my bush, he switched his attention to my arms, then my stomach, swirling, soaping, and scrubbing, avoiding my breasts even though they were silently pleading for his touch.

"A colleague will join me for the next stage of your massage," said Adi, hands pummeling my lower abdomen. "For the four-handed massage. It's our signature treatment here."

I nodded, even though I wasn't sure I could handle any more stimulation. If one pair of hands got me this worked up, wouldn't four tip me over the edge? Then again, maybe his colleague would be an unattractive old man who would be much less likely to increase this horniness, whose presence would calm me down so that I could enjoy this for its own sake.

A door clicked, and in walked the guy from reception, the one I believed to be the most beautiful man I had ever seen in my life. Oh, dear.

"This is my colleague, T J," announced Adi.

"Hello again, madame," he said, smiling the perfect smile that had kick-started my arousal when I'd first arrived. "I hope you're enjoying your experience so far."

Adi grasped my arms, and TJ took my ankles. Then the two men stretched me in opposite directions as if I were on a rack, so that my whole body lengthened and loosened under their grip. My naked torso was exposed, beads of sweat rolling between my tits, along my hips, between my legs. Each tiny bead of sweat mingled with remnants of salty water and the sensual oils I was covered in, tickling me all over. This wasn't a massage-this was multisensory foreplay!

T J kneaded my feet while Adi massaged my arms and wrists. The idea of male hands on these much-neglected areas was achingly intimate. As their expert fingers melted away the tension, I was aware of how much stress I'd been carrying around in the hands that clawed a keyboard all day and the feet that dashed from meeting to meeting in unforgiving high-heeled shoes.

Then they worked their way up, T J touching the insides of my ankles, Adi caressing the soft, sensitive, and neglected skin on my neck and shoulders. I couldn't help it. Instinctively I let out a whimper and parted my legs. If they wanted me to beg for it, I was on the verge of doing so.

And then they were there: Adi's soft, strong hands drawing circles around the flesh of my breasts, almost but not quite touching my nipples, which stood up like bright red buds, while TJ was deftly massaging my inner thighs, where my pussy juices were mingling with heady perfumed oils. I looked at them. They moved in perfect time together, their hands caressing me with more skill and sensitivity than any lover ever had, but their deadpan faces betrayed no signs of arousal. I was desperate to break through this dedication to their craft and persuade them to fuck me.

In the end, I can't say I mustered up the courage to ask for more; it was more an involuntary request, issued from my lips before I knew what I was saying. "Please," I said, "I want you inside me." I didn't care what they thought. I didn't care which one of them serviced me. I didn't care about anything but the aching void in my pussy that needed to be filled before I lost my mind.

"Ah," said T J. "I think madame needs our gold-standard treatment. Two dicks reach the parts that hands fail to satisfy." I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Sure, that's what I wanted! Then it dawned on me-why Cassie had told me that I'd need to keep an open mind here. These guys weren't regular masseurs, they were gigolos! I'd been right in thinking that the service so far had just been foreplay; they'd obviously been waiting for me to allow them to take the massage to the next stage. Suddenly the three-hundred-dollar price tag seemed like a bargain. I got to my knees and watched Adi and TJ take off their white uniforms. Each had a smooth, almost hairless body, their brown skin shining in the steamy atmosphere. As they used their hands to bring their dicks to life, their movements remained smooth, synchronized.

Adi lay back on the slab, and I crawled over him on my hands and knees. I let him use the tip of his penis to stimulate my clit, tracing patterns on my cunt lips with the same steady rhythm that made him such a good masseur. I couldn't stand any more teasing, and, using my pussy to locate the tip of his hard-on, I pushed down with all my weight, sighing as his dick finally filled me up. He pushed upward as I bore down on his erection so that our hips were grinding together. But it still wasn't enough; the expert foreplay I'd been indulged with had made me greedy. I wanted more.