Massage and fisting

I was working in a country town alone and at a loose end one evening, so I phoned a lady who I had previously met through a reply to her internet advertisement. Ann usually calls by my motel; she surprised me by inviting me to her home for the first time. I took a bottle of wine with me. When she greeted me at the front door I guessed my earlier thoughts of lust had more than a good chance of coming to fruition. Ann was dressed in a very short happy coat, obviously fresh out of the shower, and also obviously with nothing on under the coat given the bits I could see as she moved. Going inside her home my pleasant suspicions began to get some confirmation with the soft lighting and nice music she had set up in her lounge room.

After I opened and poured us a wine we sat in the lounge and caught up on recent news since we’d last seen each other. Somewhere in the course of the conversation, Ann asked me if she could give me a massage. Naturally, I agreed; apart from any sexuality involved I knew she had recently completed a massage course so there was a chance of having the real thing. We moved to the bedroom where we both stripped off; me face down on the bed, Ann kneeling over me.