Starting a new story. For bros who enjoy stories of wife sharing, wife exhibition and such. If you are not a fan, please click away.
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INTRO
“David, I can feel his hands… He’s touching me.”
Amy’s voice was a little frantic, but also a little breathless. She was letting me know that the massage I had booked for her in the privacy of our villa had perhaps strayed into something not quite so professional.
Little did she know that not only was I not upset to see Simon’s hands wandering over my wife’s body, I was actually sporting a massive hardon as this large Greek man slid his meaty palms up the back of Amy’s thighs and when he reached her sex, swiping her labia and clitoris with his thumb.
CHAPTER 1
[David’s perspective]
Before I describe the night that unfolded, let me introduce my wife and I. If there was one word I could use to describe us, it would be that we are completely ordinary. Neither of us was particularly outstanding in the looks department, though my wife was often mistaken as someone younger than her actual age. I am past middle age and definitely in need of more exercise. Amy was in much better shape, thanks to better genes inherited from her family. We were both average height for Chinese Asians, which meant that at 1.9m, Simon was more than a head taller than my wife.
Simon was someone I found while searching online for a masseur to treat my wife to an in-call massage on the third day of our holiday in the island of Crete. Among the various masseurs offering their service in Crete, his profile stood out because he emphasized that his philosophy when giving massages was to always seek to connect with his clients and took it as a matter of personal pride that his clients would always finish their sessions completely satisfied. To me this seemed reassuring as some of the other profiles seemed to read more like dating profiles, with thinly veiled promises of a ‘good time’. He communicated via WhatsApp and it was a simple matter to arrange the date and time for a two hour massage session at our AirBnB villa.
Simon was extremely punctual. Arriving promptly at 5pm at our doorstep. I let him in, and watched as he set up the massage table next to the bed. His motions were effortless, a result of practice I supposed, and also from the fact that though not built like a bodybuilder, he was certainly more fit and younger than me. In no time he had the table set up and he gestured for Amy to undress and lie face down, covering her with two towels (upper and lower body) for modesty as he began his massage. My wife seemed a little embarrassed as she removed her top and shorts and lay down clad only in her bra and panties, but having done many massages on trips to Bali and Thailand, once she had lain face down and unhooked her bra, she seemed to regain her composure.
Simon started his massage pretty conventionally. He first massaged Amy’s neck and shoulders to release the tension held there. Then he massaged down her back until just above her buttocks. I could see Amy start to drift off into a content haze and I made myself comfortable on one of the armchairs present in the room while I started scrolling through my phone.
I paid little attention as Simon worked on my wife. I did notice that like all professional masseurs and masseuses he had very strong hands and I could see his forearm muscles ripple as he kneaded and pressed my wife’s back, shoulders and forearms, before moving down to her calves and slowly working their way up her legs. The two towels covering my wife were adjusted as Simon draped and uncovered different parts of my wife that he was working on, though one towel was always covering her butt, to protect her modesty.
Perhaps because it was because everything was proceeding so usually that I stopped paying close attention, until I heard Amy’s sudden intake of breath. Curious I glanced up from my phone and saw that Simon had apparently completed massaging both calves and was now kneading the back of her thighs. I didn’t understand why Amy gasped at first until I saw Simon’s hand travel all the way up her thigh and slide up under the towel covering her rear. While Amy was still clad in her panties, the thin silky material I imagined did little to block the sensation as Simon’s fingers slid under the towel and over the buttocks of my wife. My wife’s buttocks looked small compared to his large palm, which fully covered the entire cheek of her ass. I then saw his thumb slide between her ass cheeks into her butt crack and it must have made quick contact with her vulva and asshole because Amy let out a second gasp.
I was transfixed as I watched this larger man now use two hands to massage the back of my wife’s thighs, and each stroke of his hands he would slide his thumbs between my wife’s legs and rub the lips of her vagina and also her anus. By this time Amy had started breathing really heavily and I could see her squirm a little, overcome with erotic sensations.
“David, I can feel his hands… He’s touching me.”
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CHAPTER 2
[David’s perspective]
“David, I can feel his hands… He’s touching me.”
“Yeah no shit” I thought to myself. But strangely I didn’t feel any urge to speak up or to stop Simon. Instead I continued watching as this stranger touched my wife in her most private and erotic zones.
Instead I was fascinated by the sight. It felt almost like I had stumbled into a private scene between two lovers and I was the interloper.
All this while Simon hadn’t uttered more than a few short phrases and he seemed like a man completely focused on his task. Maybe it was also the way that he seemed so professionally intent that I too held back from making any comment.
“Is this part of the massage” I thought to myself. After all, we had only experienced massages in Asia. Maybe they did it differently in the Mediterranean?
My attention snapped back to Amy as a new sound came from the direction of the table. My jaw dropped as what I saw seemed like something straight out of a JAV scene. Simon stood by my wife’s side. His left hand was on her upper back, between her shoulder blades and he seemed to be restraining Amy from rising from the massage table. Even though he was only using one hand, my petite (in relation to Simon) wife was not able to push her upper body off the table. But it was to his right hand that my gaze was drawn.
His right palm was on my wife’s butt, over her tailbone, his thick fingers were curled around and between her legs and I could see his middle and fourth finger had slid past the lacy fabric of my wife’s panties and was pistoning in and out of my wife’s vagina!
*Squelch* *squelch* Wet sounds were coming from Amy’s vagina as I stood up, finally galvanized into action at the sight of this guy manhandling (as it appeared) my wife. I had no idea how I was going to be able to pull this bigger guy away from my wife, but my instinct to protect my wife overrode all conscious thoughts and plans.
Just as I crossed the bedroom from the armchairs to the massage table Amy let out a large groan.
“OHHH! Fuck! Oh god! Ahhh!”
I knew that sound. That was the sound my wife of 15 years made when she was having her orgasm. But this was louder and more urgent than any I had heard her utter before.
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Quote:
Originally Posted by
TwaLiap
Story … means just fiction, not real, right ?
Whether real or not I leave for the bros to decide. But I will say that every story has at its core a grain of truth.
In any case, here is the next part.
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CHAPTER 3
[David’s perspective]
“OHHH! Fuck! Oh god! Ahhh!”
I knew that sound. That was the sound my wife of 15 years made when she was having her orgasm. But this was louder and more urgent than any I had heard her utter before.
I froze.
What I had imagined to be panic and struggle in my wife’s movements I now saw was actually her shuddering in extreme ecstasy. Simon wasn’t holding her down to force her into submission, as I had initially assumed, but rather was preventing her from climaxing so violently that she fell off the massage table. My wife’s knuckles, gripping the edge of the massage table, were white not from terror, but rather from her struggles to hold on to her sanity while a huge orgasmic wave crashed over her.
As she came down from her bliss-filled high, she made soft cooing sounds.
“Oooooh, oooooh, ahhh. Ohhhh.”
Stark contrast from the almost guttural moans ripped from her soul a few seconds prior. She lay panting and practically boneless on the massage table in her deep satisfaction. Every bit of tension and worry that we all carry unconsciously seemed to have drained completely out of her. I was struck by how beautiful she seemed. Practically glowing.
This is what pleasure looks like. I thought to myself. And it seemed that I had fallen in love all over again.
A voice intruded into my ruminations. “Turn her over.”
That jolted me back to the moment. Had I actually forgotten Simon’s presence?
“Turn her over.” He repeated. No doubt sensing my state of turmoil.
It was a voice that expected compliance and was used to being obeyed. Almost unthinking I reached out to my wife, cradled her close and turned her face up on the massage table.
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Quote:
Originally Posted by
Nitrolicious
Sounds like an interesting story. Looking forward to more!
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CHAPTER 4
[David’s perspective]
She lay there. Eyes closed. Dreamy look on her face. Clearly still caught up in the lingering afterglow of her orgasm. A thin sheen of sweat covered her chest and forehead. A smile of utter contentment on her face.
“She doesn’t need those.” Simon said, finger pointing to her bra, clasp undone and draped across her chest.
Once again I obeyed the command unthinkingly. Sliding the straps of Amy’s bra off her shoulders and arms. Revealing Amy’s modest but proud and firm breast, with pert and hard nipples straining, begging even, to be held, fondled and touched by a man’s hand.
Without even being told, I knew what Simon wanted next. Moving lower, I literally peeled Amy’s panties down her legs and off her pussy, so wet with her womanly juices that the front of the panties seemed stuck to her. Evidence of how much she had cum from the small pool of liquid glinting from between the v of her thighs. The scent of her was strong in the air and my subconscious recognized the smell of deep arousal.
Simon moved to stand opposite me, on the other side of my wife. Mirroring my position. In doing so, any observer would be drawn into comparison of the two men bracketing a woman in full flower display. They would see one man. Average height, dark hair, broadly built but with what some fondly call an Asian pot belly. The other, taller, erect stance, brownish/blond hair. Life experience and strong confidence etched into his bare forearms. The two men gazed at each other for a brief instant and it seemed that some unspoken agreement was made.
Simon dispensed with the need for any more false modesty or pretence with towels and draping. Oiling up his hands and forearms he proceeded to run his large hands over every part of my wife’s bare body.
Whether he wanted to tease her further, or whether he was simply saving the best parts for last, he actually started off with her hands and forearms. My wife’s tiny(in comparison) hand was engulfed in his as he held her hand and lifted her arm slightly. With his other hand wrapped around her wrist he slid his hand up to her armpit. The circle made by his thumb and fingers large enough to wrap completely around her arm. Somehow all I could think about was that it looked somewhat like he was doing a jerking off motion, instead of a penis, it was my wife’s arm.
While his actions were mundane, it nonetheless seemed to affect Amy. Her body responded instinctively, as she strained her chest upward, like a moth seeking the flame. Her other hand strayed to her sex, like how a baby would seek to latch on to the breast. A low moan came out of Amy, as the pleasure assault recommenced.
As for myself, I could only stand and stare at the tableau of ecstacy laid out in front of me. While I had always personally worshipped at the altar that was my wife, my first love and the one to whom I had offered up my virginity, never had I elicited such a response from Amy. Feelings of inadequacy crept in me. But more than anything, what dominated me was incredible arousal. As Simon’s ministrations shifted to her other arms, I retreated to stand at my wife’s feet. It seemed that I had subconsciously decided that Simon was to have full access to my wife’s body.
After massaging both arms. Simon then moved to stand at Amy’s head. Once more putting us in opposite positions. From this position, Simon’s long arms reached out, one hand starting at each clavicle, sliding down Amy’s sternum, following the valley between her breasts, until they had travelled past those lovely twin hills, he then circled around either side and back up and repeated the journey of his hands, tracing a circling path on each breast.
“Fuck, that feels so good. Don’t stop.” Amy’s hand now gripped the edges of the massage table on either side. Her chest was thrust upwards in an effort to maximize contact. Her nipples standing hard like pencil erasers. Swollen with blood and desire.
I realized that Simon, who thus far had seen entirely unaffected by the proceedings, was now sporting a large bulge through the loose shorts he was wearing. From my vantage point at Amy’s feet I watched his groin bump against the top of my wife’s head as he continued his tender stroking of my wife’s flesh. By my estimate, his ‘package’ was the length of my wife’s head. Torrid thoughts began to rear in my head.
Simon’s ministrations continued. I admired and approved of the attention he gave to my wife’s chest. Somehow he had picked up on the fact that Amy’s breast was a highly erogenous zone for her. It was like he had read the owner’s manual to my wife’s body and knew which pleasure centres to target.
As though to demonstrate this mastery of her sexuality, Simon’s hand made one last circle and then came to rest right on top of each breast. Covering fully and almost possessively each mound.
He squeezed. Amy’s response was immediate.
“OHHHH! YES! Squeeze my tits. Fuck that feels good!”
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CHAPTER 5
[David’s perspective]
Simon’s grip was almost crushing. I could see the muscles on his forearm ripple with effort as Simon milked her creamy orbs. But far from complaining, Amy seemed to be in heaven. My normally mild mannered wife was swearing like a sailor. Her body writhed as it lay on the massage table, pleading for more.
Flick.
Simon flicked Amy’s distended nipple the way you would flick an insect.
Amy exploded. “Ahhh!”
Flick. Again. The other nipple this time.
Again a cry rose from Amy.
Now both nipples stood out angry and red.
As though in apology, Simon shifted to Amy’s side, lowered his mouth over Amy’s breast and started sucking and licking in a parody of a baby seeking nutrition. One hand covered the other breast, more gently this time.
Amy responded instinctively as a mother. Wrapping her own arms around Simon’s shoulders, hand cradling the back of his head. She started cooing soft sounds of pleasure. I wanted to join in too, but the moment almost seemed too private and my role it seemed was merely to bear witness.
Again I was struck by the image of beauty in front of me. Memories of Amy breastfeeding her babies came to my mind. Now, as then, I saw a woman in the full bloom of happiness and satisfaction.
All thoughts of massage were driven from my mind. I ached to hold my wife and indeed started to move up to come and stand by her side. But Simon, consummate professional that he was, decided wordlessly that he had an unfinished job to do.
Carefully (reluctantly?) he drew himself out of her embrace. His hands once again reached out for my wife’s body. This time those large hands made their way down her sides, converged over her navel and spread out again to travel down her thighs. Where his hands moved, Amy’s flesh trembled, not in fear, but what I had come to recognize as desire. Her body craved this touch from this strong stoic man. Somehow they communicated to each other with hardly any words spoken. I was spellbound once again by the connection they seemed to have.
As Simon’s hands reached the end of their journey at Amy’s calves, he gave each calf a firm squeeze. This time a different sound of contentment came out of Amy. We had spent the past few days hiking the various gorges and visiting the various beaches of Crete and had amassed a much higher than usual step count compared to our usual routine in Singapore. This was why I even came up with the idea of engaging a massage therapist this penultimate afternoon/evening of our 8 day trip to the Mediterranean. It was intended to soothe Amy’s body before our inevitable return to Singapore and the grind of our jobs.
Simon’s shifts from professional massage, to erotic stimulation and back must have been somewhat confusing to Amy, because I could see her slowly sinking back into the almost dreamlike state one achieves during a good massage. I, on the other hand started to feel almost disappointed. Maybe I was conditioned by too many JAV films, but part of me was thinking ‘is this it?’. Besides that I was still blue balled from not having achieved my own release so I promised myself that I would reclaim my wife’s body once Simon left.
But little did I expect that the final act was yet to come.
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Quote:
Originally Posted by
makkauhijau5
camping for more!
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CHAPTER 6
[David’s perspective]
Similar to what happened when my wife was face down, Simon’s hands moved competently up from massaging her calves to the flesh just above her knees. I could see his thumbs digging into the tendons and muscles of Amy’s hairless and smooth legs, aided by the massage oil he used. Amy started groaning in pleasure. Lactic acid built up from the past days exertions driven away under Simon’s talented efforts. Once again Simon demonstrated his knowledge and mastery of my wife’s body.
‘Maybe I should go learn how to give massages.’ I thought to myself. Wondering if it would give me similar insight into female anatomy.
But I shouldn’t have kidded myself, Simon was clearly a maestro when it came to playing the instrument that was the female body. He demonstrated this with what came next.
It was inevitable that Simon eventually ran out of real estate unclaimed as he methodically covered every inch of my wife’s body with his hands. As before, his hands eventually arrived at their ultimate destination between my wife’s legs. Amy too must have sensed his intention. As Simon’s questing fingers came closer to her sexual core, her legs spread in welcome. From between the lips of her labia, a pearl of liquid appeared, signalling her readiness and desire.
Simon accepted the invitation. I held my breath as I saw one thumb, then another swipe upward, gathering and spreading those pearls of arousal across the fleshy lips of Amy’s sex. My penis, which had been starting to subside, sprang immediately back to attention.
“Ohhhh, fuck….. Mmmmmm”.
Amy’s approval was unambiguous. Actions matched verbal expression. Her legs, already spread apart, widened even more. Her hips strained upwards, presenting the flower of her vagina, inviting Simon’s attention. Pleading for MORE.
Amy’s breaths came in short pants. Effort presented as a layer of sweat on her forehead and upper chest. Unconsciously, her hips started a slow undulation, a foretaste of the oldest dance between man and woman.
Two thumbs dove into my wife’s pussy. Amy’s back arched like a bow at the long awaited (re)penetration. The size of Simon’s large hands highlighted again in contrast to my wife’s smaller frame as his palms and 4 fingers could still wrap around her thighs even as his thumbs, themselves easily a good four to five inches in length, buried themselves in my wife’s vagina.
“YES! Oh god yes!”. Amy shouted her encouragement. Which I thought was really entirely unnecessary. I could see a look of determination and commitment on Simon’s face. The large man clearly needed no additional motivation.
Simon thumb-fucked my wife. It was glorious. Amy’s pussy leaked fluids at first, then started actively weeping as though in gratitude. At the back of my mind I wondered if the massage table was waterproof. If not, it would probably be ruined after this evening.
Amy’s hands flew to cover her face in (belated) embarrassment. She seemed surprised and a little betrayed by her own body’s reaction. but if there were any thoughts of regrets on her mind, her body was clearly not getting the message. Her hips pulsed to a primal rhythm, her chest rose up and down as she struggled to draw sufficient breath to scream out her pleasure. By this time, Simon had switched to using two, then three fat fingers to penetrate my wife. Given the size of Simon’s digits, I realised that Amy was probably experiencing the sensation of the thickest piece of flesh she had ever had shoved up her love canal.
And clearly she loved it!
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Quote:
Originally Posted by
Nitrolicious
Maybe Simon has something thicker that he hasnt whipped out!
Bro Nitrolicious, you are definitely a fortune teller!
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CHAPTER 7
[David’s perspective]
By now I had lost count of how many times Amy had orgasmed. Certainly more than four times, not counting the first orgasm she experienced while face down, or the second smaller orgasm she had when Simon sucked on her breasts. Six orgasms. That was more than she typically averaged a month! All in one session. And Simon was not done.
Directing another command my way, Simon said “Grab her arms. Let her see herself pleasured.”
Again, I obeyed with barely any hesitation. I grabbed Amy’s wrist and held her arms above her head. Her breasts, already sitting firm and high on her chest, arched further upwards in both invitation and offering. Amy’s continuous stream of moans and groans crescendoed into wails as her last psychological cover afforded by her hands covering her face was stripped away by her own husband.
“AHHHH! AHHHH! AAAHHHHH!”. Amy descended into incoherence. Her body was now Simon’s instrument, and he played her like a maestro. Four fingers were now jammed up her pussy, stretching wide that elastic muscle and fleshly opening. Amy’s vagina was taking in the equivalent of a soda can’s circumference now.
A clear spray of liquid gushed out of Amy’s pussy, squirting past her legs and even further than the end of the massage table. I had heard of women who squirted before, but this was my first time witnessing it. I was transfixed!
“NOOOOOOOO!!!!! FUUUUCCCKKKK!” While her words suggested refusal, her every behaviour gave a lie to her speech. Her body shuddered violently on the table. Legs spasming as though her motor neurons were randomly misfiring. Every muscle in her body seemed to be clenching and unclenching in sympathetic contractions to the orgasmic signals flooding out from her sexual core. Her hands grabbed mine in a death grip, even as I continued to hold her arms down.
Slowly, gradually, her tremors subsided. That’s when I let go of her wrists and Amy curled into a foetal position on the massage table.
“No more. I can’t take any more.” she managed to gasp out.
Simon patted Amy on the head. The way one would pet a family pet.
“Good girl.” he said. And strangely those words evoked a strong sense of pride in me. I realised that I was proud of my wife for achieving such a complete and utter surrender to her sexual desires.
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CHAPTER 8
[Amy’s Perspective]
“Good girl.”
The words could have been belittling, like I was being talked down to. Strangely, I felt nothing but gratitude, like a puppy that received their master’s praise. Blame the oxytocin, dopamine, endorphins and other neurochemicals coursing through my system and flooding my brain’s pleasure centres. In that moment, my usual asian conservatism was completely banished and I was fully and utterly emotionally and sexually available to any willing to claim it.
Like an infant, I reached out blindly, seeking a physical anchor to tie myself back to reality. First, towards David, whose reliable presence I could always rely on and point to unerringly in any situation. And with my other hand I sought out this new stranger who had entered my life and to whom I had surrendered my climax and had bared my body and soul, literally and figuratively. I knew literally nothing about this man, other than his name, but he had somehow managed to unlock parts of my sexuality that I never even knew I possessed.
David sensed my need for connection and wrapped his loving arms around me from behind. I relaxed into his comfortable and familiar mbrace. My other free hand, unbidden, went straight to Simon’s groin and wrapped around his manhood through his shorts. I could feel the heat emanating even through the fabric of his shorts. His meat felt massive and solid and my mind tried to shy away from acknowledging the size, girth and length of Simon’s spear. Surely that’s impossibly large! There’s no way anyone can have sex with that.
Before anyone accuses me of being a complete mountain tortoise, I do know that dicks come in different shapes and sizes. But I had only ever seen one penis in real life and that was my husband’s. We had measured it once with a plastic ruler and I had believed then that 13cm was already generous in its capacity to give me pleasure. My girlfriends had told stories of men they had slept with that were ‘well hung’ and had whispered about 16-17cm long love tools, but none of their stories had descriptions that came anywhere near to matching this!
Simon’s balls, felt through his loose shorts, were bigger than what my palm could cup and felt heavy, like the ankle weights that I used sporadically to keep fit. His penis was almost as thick as a soft drink can and I could have wrapped both hands around their trunk and still leave a good portion of the penile shaft and its mushroom head protruding past both hands.
To say I was curious about Simon’s equipment was a massive understatement. This was something I had to see with my own eyes! My grasping hands grew hungry with need as I ran both hands across his groin. I heard Simon’s grunt of pleasure and that pleased me. It seemed unfair that he had made me scream and cum with such abandon and I had not found any chink in his armour. I resolved that I would pay back, at least in part, some of the pleasure he had imposed on me and reclaim my womanhood by making him beg for release in the way that I had.
Dear reader, I know that sounds illogical – reclaiming one’s womanhood by stripping and pleasuring a man, but I swear to you that that was indeed my logic at that time.
(Actually who am I kidding, I was spellbound by that log of meat that I hadn’t even set eyes on yet. Simon hadn’t even waved his ‘wand’ yet and I was already his willing slave).
Matching action to intent, I sat up on the massage table, which at least brought Simon’s strong jawline closer to my eye level. Getting rid of the pesky shorts that stood between me and direct contact with Simon’s monster cock wasn’t difficult. His shorts were held up using an elastic band and a looped string and a simple tug on the slip knot was sufficient to loosen it to fall to his feet. Simon pulled off his own tank top, exposing his broad chest covered with short strands of hair. I had never seen a hairy chest before, since Asians typically were not very hairy and the novelty of seeing it now distracted me for a few moments, as I ran my fingers through the soft down of Simon’s chest hair. His breath caught a bit as my fingers, small and delicate against his muscular chest, grazed his man-pectorals.
‘He’s sensitive there’ I mentally filed away this tidbit of information. Maybe I could take advantage of that at some point.
As my hands ran down his chest and across Simon’s abs, not quite an 8-pack or even a six pack, but still radiating strength and power in its firm ridges and with little evidence of any kind of a paunch, my eyes followed their journey downward until they rested on a brown tuft of hair perched like a bird’s nest on the limb of a tree. At least my brain insisted on thinking of it as a tree branch because otherwise I think I may actually have been scared.
“It’s still not even fully hard,” I observed breathlessly to myself. Indeed his trunk-sized penis was only half at attention, gravity exerting its influence to make the end of it curve downward. Still I could only just about wrap my hands around its circumference. I marveled at how substantial and heavy it felt, even semi erect as it was, and also how alive it seemed, pulsing in rhythm with the beat of his heart which my imagination told me I could hear through his chest. I realised belatedly that the pounding sensation was my own heartbeat as my own body reacted to this massive tool. My fight-or-flight response actually engaging in half sensed fear that I had perhaps bitten off more than I could chew.
But I was nothing if not stubborn, as David was wont to remind me. I resolved to see this through having come so far.
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Quote:
Originally Posted by
garry_rie
Great story. Hope to see update to your wifey album soon again
We haven’t done anything really daring recently but I’m hoping to buy some new outfits for her to wear out on our special dates.
Recently when we were in Australia I managed to convince her to go out braless one of the days. I think she was more willing then because 1. Less chance of bumping into people we know and 2. Many of the Australian women were doing it too.