Excerpt from 'Demon Lust':
June:
“Breathe, Miss Carmichael.”
“June,” I groan.
“I prefer not to get too personal with my customers, Miss Carmichael.”
His hands push along my sides, all the way up to my armpits, definitely caressing the soft sides of my breasts. My breath hitches, then I force myself to follow his orders. Not personal, right? I swallow hard. I think he’s getting very personal.
His hands perform miracles and I finally relax as weeks of mounted tension begin to drain out of me. On a downstroke he starts pulling the towel up, covering my back. When I feel cool air on my ass, he snickers.
“Miss Carmichael, I told you to undress.”
My heart makes a leap in my chest. He can’t mean…? “But I thought…?” I begin to turn to look at him, but a hand between my shoulders holds me down.
“Don’t move. No speaking. Eyes closed. Focus on your breathing and let me do my job. I shall remove these.”
He hooks his fingers inside the waistband of my thongs and pulls them downward, uncovering my ass. He drags them along my thighs, past my knees and finally my feet. My heart beats wildly, and I’m having a really hard time breathing. I’m definitely not relaxing anymore. I’m naked with a stranger. A stranger who just pulled off my panties.
A squirting noise again, slick palms rubbing against each other, then large warm hands on my butt cheeks. I try desperately to cling on to the thought that he’s a professional, that this is normal. Probably. My friend went here. Oh god, that is nice!
He works my ass the same way he worked my back. First barely-there circling, then deeper, heavier strokes. Fingers pushing into muscles that are so tense that the pain brings tears to my eyes. On every outstroke he parts my ass cheeks. He’s gotta see… everything down there. My cheeks flush with confusing feelings of embarrassment and excitement. Not that I have anything to be excited about. This is just a massage. A very… thorough and... deeply intimate massage.
Maybe it’s a European thing?
Every time he moves back in I find myself wishing he’d push his fingers just a little bit further. Closer to my center. Because… I have needs. The thought that he sees me is oddly enticing.
But no.
He grabs the towel again and pulls it down over my butt. I realize I grind my teeth hard and force myself to follow his instructions. Relax, relax.
But how? God, it’s hot in here.
Squirting. More oil.
He grabs my legs and moves them apart a few inches. My breath gets stuck in my throat and I twist to look at what he’s doing, then I groan and bury my face in the pillow when he starts working my right calf. His thumbs dig deep into my flesh. Pain. Good pain. Breathe. His warm hands move up again, past my knee, along my thigh, one hand on the outside and one hand sliding along the inside. His fingers aim straight at my desperate pussy, but stop millimeters away, right before they get there. I squirm. A heavy, syrupy feeling settles between my legs. Please, please, slip next time. Just a little further.
Calf, knee, thigh. I tremble. And then… stopping right before they reach where I’ve begun to ache. I don’t have to touch myself to know I’m soaking wet.
“June,” I groan.
“I prefer not to get too personal with my customers, Miss Carmichael.”
His hands push along my sides, all the way up to my armpits, definitely caressing the soft sides of my breasts. My breath hitches, then I force myself to follow his orders. Not personal, right? I swallow hard. I think he’s getting very personal.
His hands perform miracles and I finally relax as weeks of mounted tension begin to drain out of me. On a downstroke he starts pulling the towel up, covering my back. When I feel cool air on my ass, he snickers.
“Miss Carmichael, I told you to undress.”
My heart makes a leap in my chest. He can’t mean…? “But I thought…?” I begin to turn to look at him, but a hand between my shoulders holds me down.
“Don’t move. No speaking. Eyes closed. Focus on your breathing and let me do my job. I shall remove these.”
He hooks his fingers inside the waistband of my thongs and pulls them downward, uncovering my ass. He drags them along my thighs, past my knees and finally my feet. My heart beats wildly, and I’m having a really hard time breathing. I’m definitely not relaxing anymore. I’m naked with a stranger. A stranger who just pulled off my panties.
A squirting noise again, slick palms rubbing against each other, then large warm hands on my butt cheeks. I try desperately to cling on to the thought that he’s a professional, that this is normal. Probably. My friend went here. Oh god, that is nice!
He works my ass the same way he worked my back. First barely-there circling, then deeper, heavier strokes. Fingers pushing into muscles that are so tense that the pain brings tears to my eyes. On every outstroke he parts my ass cheeks. He’s gotta see… everything down there. My cheeks flush with confusing feelings of embarrassment and excitement. Not that I have anything to be excited about. This is just a massage. A very… thorough and... deeply intimate massage.
Maybe it’s a European thing?
Every time he moves back in I find myself wishing he’d push his fingers just a little bit further. Closer to my center. Because… I have needs. The thought that he sees me is oddly enticing.
But no.
He grabs the towel again and pulls it down over my butt. I realize I grind my teeth hard and force myself to follow his instructions. Relax, relax.
But how? God, it’s hot in here.
Squirting. More oil.
He grabs my legs and moves them apart a few inches. My breath gets stuck in my throat and I twist to look at what he’s doing, then I groan and bury my face in the pillow when he starts working my right calf. His thumbs dig deep into my flesh. Pain. Good pain. Breathe. His warm hands move up again, past my knee, along my thigh, one hand on the outside and one hand sliding along the inside. His fingers aim straight at my desperate pussy, but stop millimeters away, right before they get there. I squirm. A heavy, syrupy feeling settles between my legs. Please, please, slip next time. Just a little further.
Calf, knee, thigh. I tremble. And then… stopping right before they reach where I’ve begun to ache. I don’t have to touch myself to know I’m soaking wet.