We stand before the studio mirror. Mark is behind me; his strong arms encircle my torso as he gently but firmly encourages my rib cage to lift, to move, to become unstuck from the muscles that have gained too tight a grip.

"Breathe deep," he says in his rich baritone voice that is just ever so slightly rough. As he speaks I feel his breath against my neck and ear, and I feel the warmth of his body through my thin camisole and yoga pants, clothing that gives him easy access to any part of me which calls out for attention from those skillful, knowing hands.

Mark is my massage therapist, my teacher, one might even say my guru, and the object of some of my life's most persistent, exhilarating, obsessive sexual fantasies. He healed my body from a painful, disabling injury that had nearly ended my career as a performing artist, and healed my mind from the anxiety and depression that came along with it, as well as the lifetime of unhealthy thought patterns that had set the stage for my physical collapse. He's the closest any 21st-century girl will ever get to the proverbial knight in shining armor. That in itself would have been reason enough to fall for him; that he's the most gorgeous man I've ever seen only made it that much easier and more inevitable.

He doesn't think of himself that way, which is of course completely charming and irresistible. Nearly 20 years older than I, Mark is tall and strong and in amazing shape for a man of any age, with splendid silver hair, steel-blue eyes that look straight into my soul and from which I can conceal nothing, and a smile which promises total recall of all the ways in which he was once a very bad boy indeed. He is quietly but utterly masculine. And then there are those phenomenal hands; as they traverse my body they caress, coax, demand, soothe, as they bend and twist and stretch and stroke me from head to toe, releasing tension only to fill me with longing.

Does he know? Of course; he can read my emotional state through my eyes, my voice, my breath, my body so clearly that I could never hope to hide anything from him, much less this. But despite the undeniably mutual attraction, an affair with a client is not, alas, a possibility he is willing to entertain.

So we stand before the mirror, he and I, in this tantalizing yet maddeningly professional embrace; desire is as present in the room as the serene music playing in the background, yet we never deviate from the steps keeping our dance firmly on the safe side of that line he refuses to cross. But if I could have my way, it would be another story entirely...

* * * * * * * * * *





"Breathe deep", Mark says from behind me, resting his hands on my belly to feel how my breath moves within me. I always love this part of the session; as I lean against him, relaxed and enveloped in his arms, a small contented sigh emerges from my throat. He grins at me in the mirror and says, "You're enjoying this." Satisfied for the moment, he drops a gentle, almost innocuous kiss onto my favorite spot, that exquisitely sensitive place where my neck blends into my shoulder, and turns me to face him as he releases me and sits against the edge of the massage table.

"Tell me what you want today, my dear," he says, that smile playing at just the corners of his mouth -- a mouth I have kissed so many times, but always in a reasonable facsimile of a chaste, friendly farewell.

Impulsively, instead of the usual catalog of body parts that crave his (professional) touch, I reply, "You know what I want."

He laughs, deep, throaty, almost a growl. "Yes, baby, I know exactly what you want." He pauses. "Even though I've never heard you say it."

Very adroit. Not quite an invitation, but definitely a challenge. It's my turn to smile, as I say in my most inviting voice, "I want to fuck you, Mark."

Mark's eyes widen slightly, and for a moment he says nothing. Oh, god, have I gone too far? He stands and steps toward me, and suddenly my back is against the wall, his hands pinning mine above my head, and he leans in to claim my mouth with his own. His kiss is slow and hot and searching at first, then deeper and more demanding, as our tongues do a sensuous swirling dance and our bodies press tightly together as though they would meld into one another. I feel his cock growing and throbbing against my hip, and my own juices beginning to flow. I've never felt this close to coming just from a kiss.

He pulls away and begins kissing my neck, and he murmurs into my ear "Tell me more," as his lips and tongue tease their way down the side of my neck to that favorite spot. I am dizzy with pleasure and can hardly speak, but I obey his instruction as I always do.

"I'm dying to see you naked," I whisper, as I slip my hands free from his grip and reach for the buttons on the navy blue polo shirt he's worn for every session with me since the day I told him that this color did amazing things for his fabulous blue eyes. I slide my hands down to his waist, grasp the hem and slowly lift the shirt off over his head, tossing it aside. Mark's broad, solid, muscular chest is covered with salt-and-pepper hair that my fingers can't resist running through. I bring my thumb to my mouth and lick it, then reach it out to caress one nipple as I kiss and suck the other one. I straighten up, trailing my tongue up across his collarbone, over the corner of his jaw, up to his earlobe, where I nibble playfully as I reach just inside the waistband of his sweatpants to undo the drawstring. I sink down to my knees and slide the pants along with me.

I pause for a moment and lean back on my heels just to enjoy the sight of his powerful body, naked now in the soft light of the studio. Mark smiles indulgently down at me as I stroke his sinewy legs with my fingertips, the palms of my hands, my nails. I lean forward and begin to kiss my way up his inner thigh, not stopping until my cheek is resting against his now fully erect cock. I take it into my hand, stroking and savoring the feel of it; the weight, the heat, the softness of the skin stretched so incredibly taut over the rigid shaft, the way my fingers cannot quite encompass his girth, envisioning how it will feel to have this lovely weapon rampaging deep within all my body's openings. Looking up at him, his eyes darkening now with lust, I tell him, "I can't wait, Mark... I have to taste you."

I stick out my tongue and lick slowly along the underside of his shaft, from the base to the velvety tip and back again. He groans with pleasure. Another long, slow lick, this time up one side and down the other. His hands reach for my head, his fingers entwine in my hair. My tongue swirls around the tip, bringing me a sweet salty drop of pre-cum to whet my appetite. As if I needed it; he's barely even touched me and I'm already so wet I feel it running down my thighs.

At last I take him into my mouth, slowly, a little deeper with every stroke, until I'm swallowing as much as I can, sucking and licking his whole rod and leaving it slick and glistening while my fingers are gently caressing his balls and ass. I look up and see his head thrown back and his eyes closed; I release his cock from my lips just long enough to say impishly, "You're enjoying this!"

He replies, "Mmmm... You got that right, honey."

"Open your eyes, Mark; it's more fun when you watch."

He opens them and locks his gaze onto mine as I devour him whole once again. My entire body is awash in the enjoyment of this moment; there is nothing quite as satisfying as looking deeply into the eyes of a man you adore as you kneel before him and pleasure him this way. I wrap one hand around his thick shaft and pump the base while I suck the tip and tease that sensitive ridge just behind it with my tongue, alternating the lightest flicks with firmer strokes, every now and then stopping everything else to dive all the way down and pull back oh so slowly to the tip once again, sucking so my cheeks grow hollow and stroking with my tongue.

His breathing grows ragged, and he says, "Won't last... much longer..."

"Then come for me, Mark," I urge him; "come in my mouth, give it to me now."

His grip on my hair tightens, and he holds my head in place as he begins to rock his hips and fuck my face. My hands wander from his legs, to his ass, to his balls, savoring the rhythmic rippling of his muscles under my fingers; my throat opens to welcome each plunging thrust of his iron-hard cock. Finally, the deepest thrust of all, and his body stills as his cock, pulsating between my lips, swells and twitches as he shoots jet after jet of thick, hot, salty semen into my waiting hungry mouth.

I cradle his cock, softening slightly now, in my mouth, as I gently lick it clean, and then release him. A few drops have escaped the corners of my lips and spilled onto my cheek; I gather them up with a fingertip. Standing, I lean into him, invite him to "kiss me and taste yourself," and deposit them on the tip of my tongue. He folds me in his arms and kisses me deeply and thoroughly; you've got to love a guy who's man enough to do that without the slightest hesitation.

He breaks the kiss and steps back. There's that smile again; damn, he is so sexy when he looks at me like that.

"Undress for me," he says. He speaks quietly, but it's clearly a command and not a request. I've been nearly naked in this room many times, of course, but always after he's stepped outside and waited until I've mounted the table and covered myself with a sheet. This, I think to myself, is much better indeed. So I slowly peel off my camisole, revealing the lacy black bra underneath, and then turn slightly away as I slide down my yoga pants, giving him a perfect view of the firm round globes of my ass clad in matching bikini panties.

As I'm tossing my pants and top into the corner, I sense him crossing the room, and when I straighten I feel him right behind me, skin against skin. He puts his hands on my shoulders and kisses me once again where neck and shoulder meet. I purr and tell him, "I love the way you kiss me there... that's my favorite spot."

"I've known that since the very first time I had my hands on you," he replies. "And I love watching you strip, but I want to do the rest." I'm still facing away from him as he unclasps my bra, pushing the straps off my shoulders until it falls to the floor, and then hooks his thumbs into my panties and pulls them slowly down and off. He stands again, his fingertips tracing a path ever so lightly up the sides of my body, from ankle to knee to thigh, stopping over my hip bones and drawing me close, his cock nestling in the cleft of my ass cheeks, his mouth again trailing kisses along the tops of my shoulders and the back of my neck, until at last he turns me to face him.

I have been working with him for years now, have felt his hands on almost every square inch of me dozens of times over, and yet this now is an entirely new sensation, as for the first time he touches me not as a healer but as a lover. He reaches out to brush a stray lock of my red-gold hair away from my face and back behind my ear, turning it into a lingering caress along my jawbone, and when he reaches my chin tilting my head upward to receive another smoldering, sensual kiss.

As we kiss he reaches down and lifts me up as if I weighed no more than a sack of flour. I wrap my legs around his waist as he carries me to the end of the massage table and sets me gently down on it. Its thickly padded surface is heated from within, and it's warm against my bare skin. I lean back slightly, supporting myself with my arms. His hands travel upwards now, from hips to waist and finally to my breasts, aching for his touch; cupping them, squeezing, fingertips stroking the sides, thumbs sliding gently over nipples, pinching, twisting them, just the way I like it. I don't have to say a thing; those splendid hands just know exactly what I want even before I do. He bends lower and brings his mouth to one breast, kissing and sucking and licking, his teeth grazing my nipple and sending shock waves straight to my clit.

"Lie back, baby," Mark says, leaning over me and pushing me back gently with one hand. I don't resist. I feel the heat from the table against my back and the heat of his body against my abdomen as he kisses his way down my breastbone, his lips and tongue leaving a trail of fire and ice on my skin. Down and down, past my belly button, down to the neat strip of reddish hair centered over my smooth shaved cunt which is wet and slick and waiting for him. But he has other ideas, as he turns to the side and licks along my inner thigh, grazing the sensitive flesh with his teeth, his hands at my knees holding my legs spread wide. Up and down my thighs he travels, kissing, biting, licking; from one leg to the other, but passing by my soaking cunt every time, so close but just out of reach, making me nearly frantic as my body yearns for release.

"Please, Mark... don't tease me like this... "

He lifts his head and flashes me that devilish grin, and says "As you wish, your majesty," nipping and caressing slowly back up to the junction of my thighs now, until at last I feel his mouth where I need it so badly, the rush of his breath against soft skin soaked with my essence. His tongue reaches out gently to part my nether lips, licking slowly up and down the length of my slit, exploring the oily folds, darting teasingly in and out of my hole and savoring the sweet taste. He sucks the outer lips, one by one, into his mouth--so warm, so wet--and then the inner ones. Finally, finally, he brings his tongue to my clit, throbbing and swollen with the strength of my arousal. He traces slow, small circles around it and then surrounds it with his soft lips and sucks it in, inexorably, at the same time that he thrusts two fingers deep into my sex and begins to fuck me with them. I am clutching the edges of the table and gasping for breath; I want this heavenly sensation to last forever but I can't hold back any longer and I arch my back and come hard--oh my god, so hard--surrendering to wave after wave of pure pleasure that is almost painful in its intensity, feeling my inner walls clench around his fingers and my clit spasm against the roughness of his tongue and the softness of his lips as he rides along the crest of the orgasm with me.

At last my body stills and relaxes, and my awareness slowly returns me to the present, to the room, the music, the hazy light, the man who has me so completely in his power. Mark stands between my open thighs and reaches for me, pulling me up till I am sitting once again on the edge of the table, his arms cradling my head and shoulders against his chest, mine wrapped around his waist. I hear the steadiness of his heartbeat, and I feel the rhythms of our separate breaths gradually becoming one. I also feel his cock stirring against my thigh, and I reach for it and begin stroking slowly, firmly, feeling it swell and lengthen to its fullest dimensions under my fingers. I look up at him and, in a voice made husky and low with renewed desire, say,

"I need you inside me now, Mark."

He lifts me from the table and spins me around to face it. Once more his lips find that magic spot where neck becomes shoulder, as his hands slide from my breasts down over my belly and settle at my hipbones, where he pulls me hard back against him. He kisses his way up my neck to my ear and the voice I hear in my dreams growls at me to bend over; I obey, spreading my legs to give him access to my innermost parts. I am burning with desire, with the need to feel him filling me. He lodges the head of his cock at my soaking wet entrance and in one smooth controlled motion drives it home, balls deep, and stops there. I can feel my sheath stretching to accommodate his unaccustomed size, and the pulsation of the veins in his cock against the slippery walls of my interior sending thrills through my body with every slight movement.

He begins to move now, fucking me with long slow deep strokes that reach every place there is inside me, some of them for the first time. I rock back against him, following his lead as if we were on the dance floor, delighting in the feeling as he moves in subtly different ways--now straight on, now more circular, each one generating its own exquisite enjoyment. His hands wander freely over my body, no longer clinical but possessive, stroking and caressing my soft responsive skin, searing heat from his fingers branding each place he touches as his. I look back over my shoulder and smile. The rest of the world has fallen away; there is only his body joined to mine, and the sounds and smells and sensations of our coupling. Liquid fire rises deep in my pelvis as I feel another climax beginning to build.

Mark's breathing grows louder, more labored, and he quickens the pace of his thrusts, his balls slapping against me as his cock slams into my cunt. Nothing tender or affectionate now, just raw, primal fucking with nothing held back, hard and fast and deep and overwhelming. I can only surrender to his punishing rhythm until my body explodes in orgasm again; my pelvic muscles contract around his cock over and over, milking every bit of pleasure from both of us until at last I feel him erupt inside me, filling me to the brim with his hot creamy seed as he slows and ultimately comes to a halt. Cock still buried inside me, he bends forward, covering my body with his, clasping my hands in his, and murmurs into my ear "damn, darlin', that was amazing"...

* * * * * * * * * *

"Hey," says that wonderful voice in my ear, "you just about stopped breathing, you OK in there?" His arms unwind from their grip on my rib cage, and he turns me to face him as he sits against the edge of the table. He looks at me with an expression I cannot quite decipher, somewhere between inquiry and amusement; I blush slightly, wondering just how much has been apparent about what I've been imagining.

"So, my dear," says Mark, looking into my eyes, wearing that mysterious smile, "tell me what you want today."