Springtime in the Massage Room

We had been married for two months, but my husband had always been cold to me. To save our marriage, I started dressing up more often. That day, as soon as I put on a form-fitting dress, Jason frowned. It turned out my anterior pelvic tilt had become more noticeable. Surprisingly, Jason was helpful for once, saying he had a masseur friend who could help me. Eager for a solution, I arrived at the massage parlor ahead of my appointment. On the cold table, the masseur's fingers were agile and burning hot. I closed my eyes in comfort, until something thick and hard pressed tightly against my crotch. ***** With the season changing, I had bought a few tight-fitting dresses. But looking in the mirror, I felt something was off—especially around my pelvis. It looked like my posture had gotten worse. Annoyed and frustrated, I turned to ask Jason. "Honey, how do I look in this?" He frowned. "I have a masseur friend who's an expert at treating anterior pelvic tilt. You should go see him this Friday." Overjoyed, I quickly tossed the dress aside and threw my arms around him. Our bodies quickly reacted to the physical contact. Jason let out a low pant, lifting my leg. I closed my eyes, already feeling the wetness between my thighs. But before he could penetrate me, something warm dripped onto the floor. Drip... The air instantly froze. I pretended not to notice. "It's okay. Let's try again." But no matter how hard we tried, Jason couldn't get it up. Overcome with desire, I rubbed my face against his neck. "Jason... please..." "Holly, are you always so horny? What's the rush? Don't I satisfy you enough?" His face darkened, his ego clearly bruised, and he stormed off without looking back. I stood frozen in place as tears of frustration and hurt streamed down my face. In our two months of marriage, we had barely been intimate. The first time, he even threw a tantrum. Just because I didn't bleed, Jason had glared at me and called me a slut. Later, my best friend, who was a gynecologist, explained that it was likely due to intense physical activity during my childhood. Only then did he accept the truth and try to sleep with me a few more times. But it was always a flop—either he came before entering, or he couldn't get it up at all. As a normal person, I had physical needs too. My best friend suggested I use a rubber toy to satisfy myself, but they were lifeless. No matter how big or thick they were, they could never compare to a warm, strong man. Was it because my body wasn't attractive enough, so Jason felt no desire for me? I couldn't put this off any longer. Our marriage was on thin ice, and I couldn't wait another day. At that thought, a tight pang squeezed my chest. Time was of the essence. I had to go today. Clenching my fists, I called Jason. "Honey, can we move up the session to this afternoon?" I had a company gala to attend at night, and because time was tight, I went straight to the massage parlor without changing. I was wearing a low-cut, tight dress that accentuated my curves and showcased my full, pale breasts. Honestly, I felt incredibly nervous when I noticed Bruce staring at me intently. "Hello, are you Bruce Shaw, the masseur?" He quickly looked away, his fingers gripping the bedsheet until it wrinkled, his breathing turning shallow. Confused, I looked down and realized why. My breast petals had slipped out of place. Right now, my two pink n*****s were completely exposed. Blushing furiously, I quickly turned around in embarrassment to adjust them. "You must be Jason's wife, Holly, right? Well, anterior pelvic tilt is easy to correct. Go ahead and change in the locker room." He handed me a bath towel. "Just wrap yourself in this." I froze. Wrap myself in a bath towel? That was so bizarre! Besides, the towel was so short it would barely cover the tops of my thighs. Not to mention, I was wearing a thong specifically to match my evening gown. If I bent over or lifted my hips, wouldn't everything be exposed? For years, the only man I'd ever been close to was Jason. I had never shown this much skin to another man. I remained silent, my eyes filled with hesitation and resistance. Sensing my reluctance, Bruce asked, "What's wrong?" In the light, the sharp lines of his jaw and his prominent Adam's apple exuded a powerful, masculine aura that hit me instantly. Even with his clothes on, I could easily picture the solid muscles of his torso... My ears flushed red. I couldn't believe I was curious about a complete stranger's body. Seeing that I didn't reply, Bruce said, "Don't feel self-conscious. I'm a masseur. Skin contact is just a routine part of the job." I snapped out of it, silently scolding myself. Exactly. He was a professional masseur, and his relationship with female clients was purely business. Just like to a doctor, patients have no gender. Besides, he was Jason's friend. Nothing would happen between us. My failing marriage needed saving. Under these circumstances, I couldn't afford to hesitate. Brushing my doubts aside, I stepped into the locker room and quickly changed. "Go ahead and lie on the table. Let me do a quick examination first." Since the bath towel had no fasteners, I clutched it tightly against my chest as I carefully climbed onto the table. His broad palms rested on my lower back, gently checking and pressing. He then kneaded his way downward from my waist, his hands settling on my firm buttocks. My body was incredibly sensitive, and the warmth of his touch sent waves of electricity through my skin. "Do your lower back and abdomen usually ache?" he asked gently, his fingers brushing right up to the top of my thighs. Every sensation was magnified, leaving me desperately flushed and breathless. I let out a soft gasp, holding onto my last shred of sanity to reply. "It's... it's alright." He asked a few more questions, but I couldn't answer him properly, lost in the overwhelming heat of his touch. Soon, a light sweat coated my body, and my voice began to tremble with desire. Throughout this sensory prelude, Bruce remained remarkably calm. Yet, for some reason, his hot breath kept brushing against my face. It was burning hot. In a daze, I heard him ask me to turn onto my side. But I forgot the bath towel only reached the top of my thighs. As I lifted my leg, my intimate area was fully and shamelessly exposed.