Chapter 1. My Shame

My name is Susan and I want to tell you what happened to me recently. I'm doing this because right now I feel guilt, and remorse, and most of all because I can't tell my husband, Peter (not his real name), but I have to tell someone. Maybe publishing this anonymously on the web will help cleanse the shame I feel right now. Please do not think I am writing this to boast about what I did or at the time wanted. This is a true story and my name really is Susan, but I have changed other details to remain anonymous.

I live in a major city, lets say, Orlando, Florida. Peter is a Physician, specializing in facial reconstructive surgery. We are very well off, residing in a secure, guarded, and private development. The average cost of a house where I live is in excess of one million dollars. I married Peter when I was nineteen and have never had to work or want for anything. My marriage is strong and I love Peter dearly, but I must admit I become very bored with life at times. Life with Peter is very structured and always run by the clock. We even make love on schedule. I have often wondered what it would be like to have a different lover, who would do different things, other than what Peter and I do. With Peter our love making is always the same. Not that it isn't wonderful, but I always know what to expect. The entire session may last fifteen minutes, with Peter always on top, and always climaxing on schedule. I wish sometimes that I could be on top, or that he would mount me from behind, with my bottom raised high, or that I could take him in my mouth. Well, I guess I don't have to wonder anymore and in some ways I'm glad of what happened. And I guess also that my shame is somewhat mixed with thoughts of doing it again. Anyway, this is my story and I hope writing it to so many people purges the unpleasant feelings that I've been getting lately.

Chapter 2. Massage by Paul

About six weeks ago, I was having my hair done at a private salon. On the way out I picked up a brochure laying on the desk that advertised other personal services offered the select clients of the salon. I didn't read it until I got home, made myself a drink, and curled up on the couch to relax. Most of the advertising was about things like weight loss programs, facial treatments, nail clinics, and so on. One, though, stood out by itself. "Massage by Paul, a personalized experience". I wondered what personalized meant. A massage sounded really interesting. I had never had one before and as I thought about it, the prospect of a man, a stranger, touching my back and legs, sounded somewhat appealing. After all, massages were perfectly legitimate and quite acceptable in upper class circles. I wondered where the massage clinic was and decided to write and request more information.

Two weeks went by and I received a small package from "Massage by Paul", containing a write-up of Paul's credentials and a glossy color brochure of services and prices. Paul was a licensed, registered masseuse, and a registered nurse. His business had been in operation for about one year and his clientele was limited to a small select group of upper class women. The brochure listed three basic packages. The first was titled "Pamper", and included a forty-five minute massage, in the clinic, at a cost of two hundred dollars. The second package was called "Pamper Plus", and included a one and a half hour massage, a pedicure, and fingernail treatment, a therapy pool session, and a facial. The cost was stated as five hundred dollars. The last package was the "Wellness Treatment", and included a wellness exam, facial, nail treatment, massage, and specialized options, and could be scheduled at the clinic or at the clients home. The cost for the complete treatment, with options, was fifteen hundred dollars. The brochure really sparked my interest, and I pondered and fantasized on all the possibilities offered. I didn't worry about the cost. I had my own banking account and even the expensive "Wellness Treatment" would not pose any financial problems. The more I thought about a good massage, the more convinced I became that I should try it. I was a little scared, but after all, other ladies probably did this all the time. Why should I deny myself of a little pampering and pleasure. And I wouldn't be doing anything wrong, because massages were quite acceptable in today's society. I wondered whether or not I should tell Peter about what I planned to do. I decided that it was no different than going to the beauty salon and Peter had no interest in that kind of thing. He really didn't need to know. There was a telephone number at the bottom of the brochure and while I was still excited about the idea, I decided to call. On the second ring the telephone was answered and a pleasant sounding woman said, "Massage by Paul, may I help you?" I told her I was interested in scheduling an appointment for a massage. She asked, " May I have your name please", and when I told her she put me on hold. After about one minute she came back on the line and said my name was already listed as a part of the special client list that Paul maintained and how could they be of help. I told her I received Paul's brochure and I was interested in one of the packages, but I wasn't sure which one. She replied that since this was the first time I contacted the clinic, that "I would highly recommend the 'Wellness Treatment' because Paul will learn more details about you and could better serve you later." She asked would I like to come to the clinic or would I like Paul to visit my home. I hadn't considered having the massage at home, although it did seem logical to be in one's own private quarters, rather than a place filled with people, with the constant interruptions of telephones, messages, questions, and so on. I said, "Yes, I think that it would be more convenient if Paul would come to my home and I will go with your suggestion for the 'Wellness Treatment' package.". Paul's schedule had a free morning on the following Monday, she said, would that be suitable. I told her that was perfect and she confirmed that Paul would be at my home at 8:00am. I told her I had never had a massage before and was there anything I needed to do in preparation. She said that a nice hot shower before the session would help me relax and soften the skin. I thanked her and hung up the phone. I had done it and I practically ran around the large home, trying to figure out the best place for the massage. My mind even considered the bedroom, and then I thought that might be pushing it somewhat, and I quickly discarded the idea. I was so excited at the thought of another man touching me and the idea that I would be practically naked. What would I wear, I thought. A bra and panties. That seemed to be too personal and I ran to my bedroom to look at the possible clothes I should wear. A thought then ran through my head of what it might be like if I had no clothes on at all. I shivered with excitement and immediately chastised myself for letting my mind run into forbidden territory. I was a married woman of three years, had everything I could possible dream of, and I had no right in entertaining such evil thoughts. I would have a relaxing massage and that would be the end of it.

Chapter 3. Anticipation

Peter came home at his scheduled time and announced that he was going to attend a two day seminar in NewYork on Monday and Tuesday. He would catch the early bird shuttle flight Monday morning and return home on Tuesday night. He had done this several times in the past, so it was no surprise to me when he told me this time. I told him that I understood and I hoped he enjoyed the seminar. I felt a little guilty that he would be away when I planned my Monday massage, but it quickly disappeared, and I convinced myself that it would probably be safer. There would be no fear of Peter suddenly coming home early, even though that rarely happened. Or if he decided to take the day off, which never happened. In any case, I felt calmer about the situation and relaxed my inner thoughts and fears.

It took forever for Monday to arrive, and when it finally did, I was so nervous I could hardly sit still. Peter was up very early and said his good-byes, with his usual formality, leaving precisely on schedule at 5:45am. I still hadn't decided what clothes to wear, and I looked once more in my clothes closet. I finally settled on wearing my house robe, with a bikini underneath. I thought wearing a bikini would add more dignity to the situation, and both the masseuse Paul and I would be more comfortable. It seemed to take forever for eight o'clock, and the closer it got the more butterflies I felt. You would have thought I was a young school girl waiting to attend her first prom. I couldn't sit down and constantly looked through the front window for Paul's car to arrive. At about ten minutes to eight, I ran to my bedroom and removed the bikini, and quickly put on a new blue colored frilly bra and matching panties. I did that on impulse, wanting this stranger, Paul, to see me in my in my most intimate undergarments. I stood in front of a full length mirror and wondered what men found so attractive in me, because I knew and enjoyed the many glances men gave me when I was in public. I am of average height, 5'8", slim, weighing 114 pounds; a true blond with short hair. My breasts are on the small side but firm and pointed. My areola's are bright pink, almost red, and extend separately from my breast; my nipples are large and very sensitive. I have a very slim waist leading to my bottom, which I think points out to far, but apparently men like that, from what I have read. I have long legs, well proportioned to the rest of my body. In general I am considered very attractive and well distributed. Sometimes when men look at me, I know they are trying to see through my clothes and to be honest, there are times I wish they could. I put my robe back on and hurried back to the living room for Paul's arrival.

Chapter 4. The Arrival

At about eight ten, the front doorbell rang, and I quickly ran to answer it. I didn't look through the peep hole, but instead unbolted and opened the door. A very tall, well built, and extremely good looking black man stood in the entry way. Before I could speak, he said, "Miss Susan? I am Paul and I believe we have an appointment." I was shocked and momentary speechless. I had never imagined that Paul the Masseuse would be a black man. I recovered quickly and said. "Yes, I am Susan. Won't you please come in." Paul walked in and followed me to the living room. I gestured for him to sit down on a sofa while I sat in a single straight back chair opposite. He was completely hairless. His head was clean shaven, and there was no visible hair on the exposed portion of his chest. His skin was very black and almost had a shine to it. His arms were also hairless. I was fascinated, and quite impressed with the perfection of the man sitting opposite me. Paul spoke, "Miss Susan, where can we set up the massage table. While my assistant is doing that, we can have an informative chat." I had tried to figure out the best place for the massage, and had given up, hoping the masseuse would make the proper suggestion, so I responded by asking Paul where he thought might be the best place. Paul said that a bedroom with adjoining bathroom would probably be suitable. His voice was gentle and low, and reassuring. I began to relax a little and let my masseuse help me with certain decisions. "Would you show me a bedroom Miss Susan," Paul asked. He followed me through several rooms and down a long hallway, to the master bedroom. He looked around and said the room was perfect and he would excuse himself for a moment to instruct his assistant as to the setting up of the equipment. I led Paul back to the front door and went back to the living room area to wait for him. Shortly I heard the front door open and a folded type of table was carried in by Paul and another impressive looking black man. Paul returned alone after a few minutes and sat down on the sofa again. He said, "Miss Susan, may I ask you some personal question, to help me determine your treatment? And please remember that I am a registered nurse, so there is no reason to be nervous." I said I felt quite relaxed and that I would try to answer his questions accurately.

He started by asking the usual questions, such as height, weight, did I have any major diseases, past operations, broken bones, muscle aches, and so on. But in between the general questions, a few were not so easy to answer. When was the last time I had a complete physical? "About a year ago," I said. Another question. Are you on any kind of birth control regiment. I told him I was on the pill. How is my present sexual relationship with my husband, he asked. I started to answer quickly that it was great, but then in mid sentence, I admitted it was terrible. Paul then asked would I like to get started. I said that yes I was ready, and I really was. I wanted his large hands to touch me. We walked to the bedroom.

Chapter 5. Exposure

A table was set up in an open area. The table was about two feet wide and about six feet long. It was padded with soft looking leather and had indents where a persons legs would go and a small elevated headrest section. At the end of the table Paul's assistant stood and smiled. Paul said, "Miss Susan I would like you to meet Jerome. He will be assisting me during your treatment session." Jerome, like Paul was very dark skinned, and also had his head shaved. He appeared to be very muscular under his shirt. His hands, although large, had long feminine looking fingers. I said hello to Jerome, and continued standing where I was, waiting for Paul to say something. I did not anticipate that two men would be looking at my semi nude, and intimately clothed body, and the mere thought of this send a shiver of pleasure throughout me. Paul asked, "Miss Susan, we are ready to start. Do you need to use the bathroom before we start?" I said I did, and went into the master bedroom bathroom. I didn't bother to close the door, although they couldn't see the toilet located around the corner. I felt that if they were going to touch my semi exposed body, going to the toilet, in their presence would not be so improper. Actually, it was one step closer in my mind to revealing myself completely to them. I desired this, but could think of no easy way to make it happen. And the thought of the two men hearing me urinate, for some reason excited me, probably because it would be associated with my naked mid-section and their close proximity. I opened my robe and pulled my panties down. When I sat down to relieve myself, I noticed that the crotch area of my panties had a wet stain on them that was quite visible. There would be no doubt that the two men would see this and the thought further excited me. After urinating I wiped myself with tissue paper and confirmed that my vagina was indeed wet. Even with the action of wiping myself, a sensation causing a wave of heat radiated from my loins. The feelings were beyond any I experienced with Peter, and I knew I was close to the start of something powerful. I considered changing panties, and decided that I would let them see me in this condition, and anyway I would probably continue to secrete. With Peter I would get wet, but this usually happened after he started to penetrate me. The wetness I felt then, was new to me, and I wondered if other women reacted in the same way. I returned to the bedroom but did not fasten the front of my robe. I held it partially closed with my hands. I wanted to take it off and show myself to the two men. Paul asked if I was feeling comfortable and would I get onto the table and lay face down. I moved next to the bed and removed my robe, folded it, and placed it on the bed. I turned and faced both of them, feeling very exposed and vulnerable. I was experiencing a release of suppressed, pent up desires, and an abandonment of deeply placed restrictive morals. It was like a volcano erupting forth hot trapped lava, as boundaries previously unscathed, came tumbling down. Instinctively I knew that my dear husband Peter should have pierced my veil of womanhood, to it's totality. I was left to guide myself to fulfillment and at that moment I resented Peter for not exploring my womanhood and my sexual awareness. For putting me in a position that craved the attention of others, was forgivable, but not trying or exploring the depth of my passion and love, was not. There was no stopping now, as my body mirrored my emotions, and I sensed and felt my nipples growing and pushing at the thin covering of my bra. I walked over to the table and slid myself onto the soft leather surface, face down. I positioned my legs in the recesses for them, which spread them open to a considerable degree. Both men were extremely well muscled and well proportioned. Paul stepped to the head of the table, while Jerome went to the other end. I laid my head down sideways on the comfortable headrest and felt Paul's gentle hands on my shoulders. Jerome started to rub the back of my legs, with gentle squeezes, and circular pushes. Paul moved his expert hands up and down my back, stopping just short of my panties. The feeling of hands, men's hands, over my body was exquisite. I could feel the wetness between my legs growing larger. My breasts felt like they were swelling, and I wished I wasn't wearing my bra or panties. The two men continued their ministrations on my arms, neck, legs, and feet. I felt wonderful, but still I wanted to be totally naked. My inhibitions were replaced with desires of wanting to exhibit. Would they like what they saw? Would they look at my private parts with want and desire, the way I looked and wanted theirs. I was growing more and more wanton of pleasures I had never dreamt of. I wondered what would happen next and who should initiate the direction. I decided I didn't care any longer, and that I would do anything to entice the two black Adonis's to look at my totally naked body. I shuttered with the thought of their eyes looking at my breasts and vagina. It was all I could do not to yell out my thoughts. My thoughts were bringing me to a state of arousal never attained before. I was flushing with desire for these two men to look at me and open me with their eyes. At times Paul would move around the table to lift an arm, or probe a back muscle, and the bulge in his pants would be only inches from my face. I wanted to reach out and touch him, but I was too shy and thought that it might ruin the present wonderful feelings they were giving me, by creating an impropriety. Jerome moved up my legs, but always stopped short of my bottom. The two men, as if by signal, one moving up from my feet, the other moving down from my shoulders, joined at the edges of my panties. I exhaled air and heard myself moan as they gently kneaded my lower back and upper leg areas. I was loosing control of my feelings and emotions and heard myself say, "My undergarments feel so confining. Can I take them off?" "Of course", Paul said, in a low relaxed voice. I slid off the table and stood between the two men. I caught Jerome's quick glance to my crotch area. I was wet and it showed about half way up the front of my panties, and was spreading rapidly. I was overcome with wanton desire to remove my intimate outer garments, ands let the taboos of inhibition be cast aside. A feeling was growing inside my body, producing such pleasure I had difficulty standing. With both hands I reached up to my front bra hook. I turned my head to look a Jerome's face His eyes were riveted on my chest area. I unhooked the bra closure and pulled each lacy coup from it's breast. I saw and heard Jerome suck in air. My breast mounds stood out smartly, capped by swollen and protruding pink areolas. My nipples were hard and extended. Two men were looking at my naked breasts and I started to lose myself to my pleasure. Lowering my gaze to Jerome's shorts, I watched in fascination as his manhood hardened and grew erect. Something was building inside me, a feeling that was slowly and steadily looking for release. I turned my head to my left to Paul's smiling face. With trembling hands, I slipped my fingers under my panty hem, and slowly brought down my last barrier of inhibition. Looking down at Paul's shorts, I gasped, as I saw an enormous and growing protrusion. As I stepped out of my wet panties, my legs quivered and I had to grasp the side of the table for support. Still watching Paul's unfolding erection, the feeling of pleasure coursing through my body erupted, and I experienced my first true orgasm, with two strangers watching me have it. I was so exposed, both in body and of what was happening, that the orgasm peaked, producing a series of body shutters, and ending in a slow trickle of juices down my inner thighs. I stood head down, between the two men, feeling their eyes search my naked body, and the fluid which was still coming from the lips between my legs. Jerome stepped close to me with a small piece of tissue paper, and when I didn't immediately take it, he knelt down in front of me. He reached out his hand to my knee and began to wipe my release. I squatted slightly, with knees pointing outward, to give him access to my wet vagina. He moved the tissue paper up one thigh and down the other, but avoided the source of the wetness. Feeling waves of pleasure again rising within me, desperately wanting for him to see all of me, I reached down with both hands, and spread my vaginal lips wide. He was looking directly at my open vagina, and I moaned loudly, as I approached another orgasm. Carefully pointing the tissue with an extended finger he reached shakily to my wet vagina, and touched it's lower openness. I lost myself to a body shaking climax and had to reach out to Jerome's shoulders for support. My vaginal lips closed to the pointed finger, and I tried to lower myself further to it. He moved slowly up my slit that now was opening to it's touch. In one continuous movement he completed the length of my passage sliding out over my hooded clitoris. I was flushed with heat and twitching with the release of orgasmic waves of pleasure. More fluids ran down my legs as Jerome continued to stair at my open womanhood. Jerome reached out slowly with his hand to touch me and my climax came down as quickly as it arose. It was replaced by shame and embarrassment, and before his touch reached the parting between my legs, I ran to the bathroom, trying to cover my nakedness with my hands.