Getaway To A Spa – Part 3

"Diana settles in and heads out"

Font Size

As I arose on the first day at the spa after a hard night’s sleep, the previous day’s events were swimming in my mind. Flirting and fantasy in the airport made real as I joined the Mile High Club. It all seemed so surreal. That it couldn’t have really happened. But as I ran my hands across my breasts down my belly to my hips, my eyes closed and I could feel Devon touching me. My body temperature rose and my breathing got deeper and faster. Just at the memory of his touch. I had never felt that kind of feeling before. Brian’s phone sex last night was amazing, but familiar. The touch of Devon’s hand and the slow glide of his slim, tapered penis were not familiar and yet they hung close in my memory. My nipples hardened, my areolas swelled and my juices began to flow just standing there naked looking out over the grounds.

I slipped on an airy, yellow flower print sundress, thong underwear, and my sandals. Braless again. My favorite way to be. Heading out for a light breakfast, I looked over the brochure as I walked to the elevator. I made my selections for the day: a seaweed wrap, a full body massage, and time in the hot springs. I’d forgo dinner and indulge in Bikram yoga at 7:00. After yoga I could shower and get dressed, and then enjoy a late, light dinner in the piano bar with a little cabernet. This was going to be my kind of day!

Breakfast was an uneventful time of good coffee, fresh fruit, and just a bite of croissant. Breads are my appetite’s weakness and my cellulite’s strength! Just a bite, though, because it tastes so good! I have to admit it – I am a food whore. Eating is a truly sensual experience and I revel in them all.  The tastes, the textures, the juices. I particularly love food I can eat with my hands. The feeling of food in my fingers, against my lips, on my teeth and tongue. The way it changes textures as I chew. The feeling of it as it moves across my tongue and down my throat as I swallow. I guess this is why I am so good at sucking dick.

I love the feeling of a penis in my hands, on my lips, in my mouth, across my teeth. The many textures along the shaft all feel different as it moves across the various parts of my mouth. The head has a different taste than the shaft and the balls have a muskier smell – love to pull that soft scrotum into my mouth, tug, and inhale that musk! I like to work my hand and my mouth together. I like to mix things up: sometimes slow and deep, sometimes quick and shallow. And, of course, sometimes I love to just run my tongue along the underside, along that long ridge up to the head and feel him quiver, wanting me to drop my mouth down the shaft and suck him all the way in to the root of his cock.

I truly love the power I get when I eat a nice, juicy penis. The man beneath my mouth belongs to me. He thinks he is in control, but it is really me. Oh, he can grab my head and pound away at the back of my throat, but I have to let him – if I gag or puke, it’s over. But, if I take it my way, I take him to paradise and back and get a tasty treat at the end.

The first shot of cum is always a bit of a surprise even though you can feel the pressure build in your mouth. Each shot of cum hits a different part of my throat and mouth – the first shots are the strongest and thickest while the last shots ooze out and are thinner and sweeter. You can swallow as he shoots or wait. I like to wait. Let it all gather in my mouth and mix together in a whole different taste on my tongue, then slide my mouth off, sucking it down as a I go. My technique has never failed me.

You would have thought that yesterday’s debauchery would have worked the sexual obsessions out of me and that now I would be thinking about kittens and butterflies, or something. Something other than how I suck a big one! I guess since I didn’t get any head yesterday and didn’t get to give any head, I have a cock-sucking-thing going on in my mind today. I was a mess and I knew it and I had no idea how to deal with it. I wanted Brian to come and get me. Now. Take me home, fuck my brains out, and then go down on me until I exploded. Then I could fall asleep, sleep hard, and wake up – well, me. A more familiar me. This me, this free-flowing, fucking-a-stranger-on-an-airplane me is new to me. Perhaps a new me. The hotwife Brian has always wished for.

I finished up my bite of penis, I mean croissant, and headed off to my seaweed wrap. It was a really sensual, cleansing experience. I could feel the toxins leaving my system as well as the croissant. The woman doing the wrap spoke English like I speak Chinese so we had little personal, emotional contact. It was very meditative and I felt like I was moving to a new place – one where I wasn’t sitting on a cushioned stool and without Devon’s penis in my mouth…I guess I didn’t quite get to where I needed to be.

The massage tables were booked until after lunch, so I headed to the hot springs. Oh. My. Gosh. You could smell the minerals in the water and they would penetrate your flesh and your sinuses, relaxing mind and muscles. It was heavenly. You would sit or paddle about for a few minutes and then get out and sit on the edge, inhaling the vapors and giving yourself a break from the heat. I could feel tensions release and toxins leave my system. Between this and the seaweed wrap I had the sensation that I was cleaner and fresher than I had felt in months.

After a soothing shower back at the room, I headed to my full-body massage cleansed and refreshed.  The masseuse was a tall, strapping young man with dark hair, dark eyes, and a cute little firm butt, for such a well-muscled fellow. He handed me a towel and went over the instructions with me. I got lost in his tender eyes and gentle voice. He left the room so I could disrobe. I kicked off my sandals, slid the sundress over my head and hung it on the back of the door. I climbed onto the rich, leather covered table, lying down on my stomach and spreading the towel over my bottom. The table was tapered toward the head with two extensions – one for each arm. I could rest my arms on the extensions or they could hang loosely from my shoulders over the end of the table.

Eduardo, that was his name, came back into the room after knocking, installed the headrest, and adjusted it for my comfort. The headrest had an opening in it for my face. There was a small stool below and he asked if I wanted to read something during the massage. Who reads during a massage? I wanted to be engaged in self-indulgence, not self-improvements or home-improvements! I politely said, “No, thank you,” and went back to relaxing.  He put on some soft music, lowered the lights, and opened a bottle of lavender oil.

Soft music, soft light, and lavender oil. It seemed so familiar. Then he started rubbing my feet. Oh. My. Gosh. It was heaven. Just like what Brian and Chas had done during our little threesome. Here I go again! I finally get relaxed and cleansed and my mind goes off in its little world! At least it was Brian this time… and another guy. The more Eduardo rubbed my feet, legs, and ass, the more I wanted a cock in my mouth. Then he moved to my hands. Just like Brian and Chas had done. Oh. My. Gosh. I was being taken to a new level of sexual stimulation – my body was reliving the sensations I had felt many months before.

Brian had set up our first MFM threesome. Brian said it was because he had been such a whore when he was young and that I had catching up to do. He said he loved me and loved it when I experienced pleasure. He wanted to see me experience pleasure. The setup of the threesome had been sex talk over the phone, by text, email, and while we were giving each other head. Then it really happened. That was surreal, too. Boy, did I get self-indulgent with pleasure! But that’s another story, This story is that here I was, getting a massage and reliving those moments. I wanted a cock in my mouth. And hands. And pussy.

As Eduardo stood at the head of the table to work on my neck, I wanted to reach out, drop his pants, pull that hard cock over to my waiting mouth and suck away. But I couldn’t. This was a professional situation and he could lose his job. He wouldn’t risk it even it I would. As he moved to my back and worked his way down to my lower back and ass again, I could actually feel it building back up inside me. An orgasm. Without anyone touching my clit or G-spot. It was a wave of heat and electricity building inside of me. I wanted to run, but I just closed my eyes and let it flow through me. And it did. I felt my legs tense and extend, my toes point, and my back muscles flex to lift my chest off the table.

Eduardo was certainly surprised. I told him that I was fine and that he just worked out some kinks. He acted like he had no idea what had happened, and I was thankful for that. But now it was time to roll over for the frontal massage.  I decided to drop all false pretenses, so I just rolled over and covered only my snatch with the towel.  My beautiful breasts were out in full view for my 6’2” masseuse to enjoy.  He started working on my feet first and then worked his way up my legs, dropping all false pretenses himself, letting the back of his hand brush against my labia as he worked on my upper thighs. 

He swung around and started working on one hand, rubbing and pulling his way up my arm, and then switching to the other side. I followed him with my eyes the entire time. He then worked on my abdomen kneading and swirling those strong hands over my tight abs. He then massaged my breasts. Like a god. I was aching for him to tweak my nipples.  My areola were full and red, my nipples hard and swollen. As he drew his hands up my chest to work on my neck, he was standing right at the back of my head. I tilted my head back and with one hand pulled the drawstring of his shorts. He slipped the headrest off the table and I tilted my head all the way back so that it was hanging off the end of the massage table. I pulled his gorgeous cock into my mouth.  It was only five to six inches long, but as thick as Brian’s wrist. I slid my hands back to his firm, cute butt, egging him on to fuck my mouth. 

He established a slow, steady rhythm fucking me until his ball sac pressed against my nose. As I drew deep breaths of the musk of his balls, I slid my right hand down to my swollen clit and my left hand to my right nipple, tweaking and twisting it.  He was still massaging my neck as he thrust that thick, musky cock into my throat. He picked up the pace and I could tell from his breathing and the way his balls were tightening that he was approaching climax. My fingers quickened their pace and I was humping the air as he filled my throat with his cum. I immediately came in a powerful, feet-arched-toes-curled climax, my screams muffled by his beautiful, thick cock.  I swallowed every drop.

I reached for my phone and took a quick pic of my mouth, my swollen nipple, and drenched pussy, sent them to Brian, and quickly shut off my phone.  I thanked Eduardo for his wonderful massage, tipped him generously, and then headed to the yoga room for Bikram.

There is no way that a Bikram class in 106-degree heat can become sexual, I thought to myself.

For the first time on the trip, I was right. For the first time, something happened that was completely normal. I did poses, got very hot, and had a terrific workout. With the taste of Eduardo’s cum in my mouth the entire time.  I must have had two bottles of coconut water, but the taste of his yummy cum was still there.

After that very normal, but fantastic Bikram session, I went back to my room to clean up. I was drenched with sweat and a nice moderate bath was in order. Of course, I dropped in the bubble and called Brian. I told him about the sensual recall of he and Chas that I’d had during the massage and I heard his pants unzip. So, I slid my hand down my belly and asked him to talk me through it.  His voice is so erotic. Deep, resonant, and his breathing sounds like it does when he is on top of me during sex. It didn’t take long for both of us to reach a powerful climax.

I was dressing myself for the piano bar and decided that I was going to look hot. And I did. When I crossed the threshold into the room it felt like every eye was on me. My sleeveless gold top nicely framed my neck and shoulders. Without a bra, my breasts hung wantonly, bouncing slightly in the freedom of the light fabric. My nipples pressed against the fabric, but due the light texture of the cloth, the peering eyes weren’t sure if the nipples were erect or the eyes wanted them to be. They were. No panties to make unsightly lines. My black linen pencil skirt stopped just above my knees. It showed off the firmness of my ass and the slimness of my waist and I felt that I was the most fuckable woman in the whole damned bar. No, the whole damned hotel. As I took the railing in my hand, I grasped it like I would a hard cock and placed each four-inch-gold-strappy-heel-clad foot down the stairs like a gazelle. I was prancing. And it felt good.

And then I heard a familiar voice from my right. “Diana, you look like a million in bullion.” It was Devon. His presentation had been here. At this convention center. In this spa/hotel. A little bit of my bravado was taken from me as awkwardness swept through me. I froze on the last step. I’d never had a one-night stand before, and certainly not a one-flight stand. I didn’t know how to approach him. I couldn’t speak.

He rose from his seat where he was enjoying a drink with two colleagues from the conference, Matt and Audrey. Devon made introductions all around, but only referenced that the two of us had met at the airport. Matt was a handsome black man with a clean, conservative look in black dress slacks, a blue dress shirt and tie, and a looseness that made me feel at ease. Audrey was a cute little thing that guys like and girls like me can’t stand. She was a red-head, or at least had a head of red hair, was skinny, and flipped that hair a lot. She was probably 5’5” or 5’6” and 105 pounds with what looked like perky 32B tits.  At least her butt was so tiny that it didn’t move when she walked. Brian insists that only fashion designers like a flat, skinny ass on a woman. He always said that an ass has to move when a woman walks and move in such a way that says, “Fuck me – cause I know how to fuck back.” He said my ass does that. Brian says that my ass is sultry when it talks to men. So, I was going to take that thought and run with it. Audrey was beautiful and at least ten years younger than me.

What is going on with me? I thought. Why do I feel the need to compete with a woman I don’t know for a guy I shouldn’t want who I’ve already fucked? And use my husband’s words of encouragement, which I actually don’t really believe, to help me get this guy?

I was definitely losing my mind. It was time to turn around and head back, no, run back to the room on the excuse that I needed to make a phone call. So, naturally, when Devon invited me to join them, I said, “It would be my pleasure.” Failing and flirting in five little words.

I took my seat and Devon ordered a dirty martini for me. He remembered. I asked for a menu because I was starved. Then I realized that we would all be talking and I’d be the only one eating. Maybe it would keep my insane mouth busy so I didn’t say anything stupid. Or flirtatious. I ordered a spinach salad with walnuts, goat cheese, and a raspberry vinaigrette. On the side. I like things the way I like them, though, obviously from this trip, I take on new adventures.

The salad was delicious and the martini nearly gone when Matt asked me if I’d like to dance. I was taken aback, actually. And relieved. From the conversation it appeared that Audrey was here with Matt. But maybe, just maybe, if I spent time with Matt, I wouldn’t spend time with Devon and get myself in more trouble. I looked at Audrey and asked, “Do you mind?”

“Of course not,” she laughed, “Matt and I are an item, but a dance is just a dance.”

So far, so good. If I spent time with Matt, maybe Devon would leave and then I could leave alone. Matt and I danced to an old Duke Ellington ballad. Romantic and soothing. He felt good to hold and I felt safe in his arms. He wore an oaky cologne that mixed well with his natural musk. The smell of him made me want to lay my head on his shoulder and snuggle up to his neck. His crotch would brush my thigh on occasion and I could feel his cock start to harden as we danced. Dangerous. Then I looked up into those deer-like eyes and I just melted. Literally. I felt myself fall toward him and my juices flow all at the same time. His musk got stronger. His lips parted. Then Devon tapped me on the shoulder as the song ended.

Devon’s fruity smell brought me back to the plane and the feel of his cock in my hand, against my ass, and in my vagina. My breathing became deeper and more labored. We started dancing to a Tony Bennett tune. I love Tony Bennett – my weakness. Or should I say another weakness. Devon’s hand pressed against my lower back and he pulled me toward him. He was so strong, but so gentle. I could feel that slender penis harden against my lower belly as we swayed in time to the music. We wouldn’t win any contests, but it was soothing and sensuous. And dangerous.

As the song ended, I excused myself to the restroom to gather my composure. This was going someplace it shouldn’t and I was a big girl. I stepped into the stall, slid my skirt down to my ankles, and standing there leaning against the wall, went to work on my clit. My hand was in a fury of emotion and passion, rotating around my knob as fast as I could go. I was filled with want and anger and I was taking it out on my clit. I could feel a build, but it wouldn’t go anywhere. I was too emotional. I pulled my skirt back up and headed back to the table. The table was by the exit and they were at the table. I had to deal with them in order to deal with me. And I now smelled like sex.

When I arrived at the table, Devon had ordered me another martini. Matt and Audrey were on the dance floor. Devon recognized my awkwardness and apologized for grabbing me so on the dance floor. “Diana, I didn’t mean to be so aggressive. I just thought, you know, after the plane, that you would be, you know, receptive.”

“It’s alright, Devon. I was just, just feeling awkward. I’d never done anything like that before, and I didn’t know how to approach things.”

“It felt like you were responding positively. Were you?”

“Yes, I was, Devon.”

“Diana, it seems like that may be that bad somehow?”

“Yes, to a degree.”

“How, Diana?”

“I’d rather not explain.”

Just then the pianist started playing a bit of roadhouse boogie. Matt and Audrey rushed over and grabbed us both by the hand, pulling us out on the dance floor. We jitterbugged with each other and it was a blast. I had been right at the perfect moment to walk out, and now that moment was gone. We continued dancing after the end of the boogie with Matt and Devon tapping off each other. Audrey and I were the belles of the ball and I didn’t loathe her as much as I had before. She was younger than I and very nice, very open to people. After about an hour of Sinatra, Bennett, Davis, and Fitzgerald, Audrey excused herself. I was comfortable now and the second martini was gone, so I stayed to dance with the two young studs with the pulsing hard-ons in their trousers.

This entire trip had been so out of character for me. I am not a prude and not a wild thing, either. I am sensible and protective of myself. Why I didn’t leave when Audrey excused herself, I don’t know. I considered it. It reasoned to me that if she and I left that Matt and Devon would leave as well. It could be awkward if we all left. For some reason, I didn’t think that Devon would want Matt to see the two us of leave. Or maybe I had ulterior motives. Maybe I knew where this would lead. But in reality, there is no way that I could have known.

Published 3 years ago

Leave a Comment