He moved his attentions to my other leg and repeated the wonderful treatment of my tight calf muscles. I watched him intently as I slowly slipped my hand across my tummy, circling my belly button just once with my index finger, but he did not flinch, why on earth would he? Two fingers slid lower and began to gently caress the sticky hot flesh of my outer lips. It felt so damn good and I shut my eyes allowing my head to fall further backwards. I momentarily wondered what the fuck I thought I was doing, but the sensation of teasing my desperately frustrated cunt while the blind masseur touched me so close by, gave me the answer. I let my fingers part my lips, the soft, pliant flesh yielding to the gentle pressure of my fingertips and the sticky heat of my slit coating my fingers so sweetly as they slid between.

“Does that feel nice?” he asked and my eyes flashed open. “I can feel how tense you are and your little moans sound like you are enjoying yourself.

“Oh yes Michael! You have no idea,” and he truly didn’t.

I was completely unaware that I had been moaning, but I simply smiled, staring straight towards him and began to rub my fingers up and down my slit a little quicker. When I was thoroughly sticky wet with my juices, I allowed my fingers to rise higher still and to seek out my poorly neglected clit. I circled round and around against the little fold of skin, teasing the swollen bud beneath. I looked straight at Michael the whole time and it almost seemed as though he were staring straight back at me. I loved to masturbate in front of other people, but there was something so special about playing with myself so close to a handsome man who would never know it. Not until I whispered it to him anyway.

I could feel my body wound tighter and tighter as I rubbed my clit harder and harder. The shocks were firing more deeply now and I found myself stifling desperate cries quite regularly. I pulled at the towel, exposing my breasts and put it to my mouth, biting hard against it. Again, I was powerless to resist as my free hand sought out a tight nipple and began to twist against it. I was breathing desperately through my nostrils, my cries thankfully quieted, but as I felt Michaels’s hot, oiled palms slide above my knee, drawing ever upwards towards my cunt, I threw my head back and moaned deeply.

Time and time again he swept his palms upwards. He was so close; if only he had dared he could have taken me. I would let him finger my cunt until I begged to experience his cock, but still he did not.

I was entirely naked before him now, my thighs parted wide, my breasts exposed, the soft, pink flesh of my areola pouting and my nipples swollen full and tight. I had one hand teasing my clit and the other playing with my nipples, twisting and pinching urgently. Michael had moved to the other leg now and repeated his strokes, sweeping slippery palms so close to my cunt, but by no means close enough. I sensed the massage would be over soon and