The Massage My Wife Gave Me for Epiphany

With the arrival of Christmas, our life changed completely. The children came back home with their partners, the family got together, and everything else was put on hold. We didn’t mind in the least: having them all under the same roof filled us with a happiness nothing else could match.

What did change was our intimacy. Lorena and I, used to long, unhurried marathons, found ourselves reduced to the occasional silent nighttime fuck. Intense, yes, but few and far between. When my wife couldn’t stand it any longer, she’d walk around the house with her vaginal beads in, looking for excuses to drag me into the bathroom or the storage room for a minute. Those stolen hornups delighted both of us.

Our children sleep well, so my morning routine stayed intact. I went to the gym early, at that hour when mothers who take advantage of the grandparents looking after the kids to train for a bit, chat, and have a coffee before going back to routine, all coincide. We knew almost all of them, some through her, some through me, some through both of us. Lorena loved provoking them with me in front of her, showing off her husband and laughing at other people’s horniness.

One of those women was Pilar, my wife’s friend and a professional masseuse. She had been treating Lorena for years for muscle tension she carried around. Married, an exemplary mother, big-boned, with an attraction that was hard to explain and enormous breasts. What stood out most about her was how friendly she was. She liked joking that one day I’d end up on her massage table.

On Epiphany we handed out the presents. My wife’s gift made me laugh: a voucher for a relaxing massage with Pilar, with the date and time already written in. I understood that, in the end, the masseuse had gotten her way.

***

The following Wednesday arrived, first thing in the morning. Pilar welcomed me charmingly, as naturally as always, and led me into the room. She worked alone in the small apartment she used as a practice. She pointed me to a changing area and left me a tiny, practically transparent dark blue thong to put on. When I looked at myself in the mirror, I understood there was nothing to guess: everything was showing. And, with the situation, I started to feel the blood going where it shouldn’t.

The light was dimmed, soft music was playing, and she looked me over from head to toe, lingering more than necessary on the bulge in the thong. She helped me lie face down, poured warm oil over my back, my ass, and my legs, and began. In silence she worked her way over my entire body, with a delicate touch but one full of intent.

From my back she moved to my legs, and from there to the inner thighs. Her hands slipped toward the center and brushed my balls, I don’t know whether by accident or on purpose. She spent a good while on that area. By then I already had an erection pushing against the fabric, trying to break free. I had to move to get comfortable, nervous, not knowing how she would react when she turned me over.

She went back to my back for a few minutes, but things weren’t calming down. When she asked me to turn over, it was impossible for that piece of fabric to hide anything. I apologized. She told me not to worry, that Lorena had already warned her that with those thongs there was always “trouble.” Then I remembered my wife’s little laughs that very same morning, wishing me a good time. It was obvious the two of them had plotted this. The only thing that worried me was how it would all end.

She started again at my feet, working up my legs until she brushed my balls once more. My cock took on a life of its own and stood completely hard, rising almost to my navel, the head shiny with the fluid already beading out. Pilar didn’t stop, and I decided to let myself go. If she wasn’t bothered, then neither was I.

She moved to my arms, my chest, my belly, the pubic area. To get at it properly she had to move my cock aside with her hand again and again, without the slightest embarrassment, and every time she did she smiled at me. In the end she simply tore the thong off to have better access, she said. And that’s when what I had feared began.

She confessed that my wife had asked her for something special, that she never did that kind of treatment, and that I was the only exception. She coated my cock and balls with warm oil and began to massage everything. With the thumb of one hand she played with the head while with the other she caressed my balls. She squeezed it, worked it with both hands, alternating rhythms. I tried to hold out as long as I could, but the skill of those hands brought me to the limit almost at once.

My body tightened and I started to cum hard. The first spurt, the strongest, hit her face; the rest landed on my body and the table. I tried not to make a sound, but I didn’t quite manage it. I was left drained while she calmly cleaned me up and then wiped her face. I asked if I could do anything for her. She answered that Lorena had given her “carte blanche” and that she had a little over an hour before her next client.

***

For a moment I thought about my wife. Had she handed me over to one of her best friends? I didn’t know whether she only wanted this to happen once or whether she was after something more long-term. I sat up and had her sit on the table. I unbuttoned her shirt one button at a time. Underneath she was wearing a sports bra that barely contained those enormous breasts. When I freed them, two heavy, soft masses fell almost to her thighs, with large dark areolas and small, very hard nipples. I took them into my mouth, licked them, and nibbled them while she moaned softly.

I lay her down and took off her pants. She was wearing white panties, pretty and almost transparent, already soaked at the crotch. I took those off too and had her naked in front of me, a new body to discover.

Pilar had to be about fifty-four, tall, close to six foot one, a little overweight but surprisingly agile. Dark hair, dark eyes, that strange attractiveness of hers. Her tits, enormous, drooped out to the sides. Her cunt, fully shaved, with small lips, barely a line. Wide hips, thick but lovely legs, big soft hands. You could tell she took care of herself.

I brought her to the edge of the table, bent her legs, spread them as wide as they would go, and buried my face between her thighs. She smelled good; she was very wet. I ran my tongue from bottom to top and her cunt opened like a flower. She jolted and moaned while telling me:

—Lorena has given me to you. Now I’m yours.

Those words finished convincing me that this was exactly what my wife wanted.

I started exploring her with my tongue. Her opening was pink and wide open, and her clitoris swollen and sensitive. I slipped a finger inside; she was soaked through. I looked up and saw her rubbing her tits against each other. I found a slightly rough patch inside her that made her tremble: that was her spot. I focused there while licking her clit. Her excitement rose fast, she panted nonstop, until with a huge cry her whole body went rigid and she came in my mouth at the same time as a powerful gush splashed all over my face and ran down my chest.

I had never seen anything like it in all my years. When I pulled back, she was still dripping. As soon as she calmed down and saw what she’d done to me, she wouldn’t stop apologizing. I told her I’d loved it.

***

I looked at my cock and it was hard again. Since I retired, it seems to have grown thirty years younger. I asked if she wanted me to fuck her. She said yes, but her way: up the ass, because she knew I liked it. This woman knew my tastes better than I did, thanks to my wife.

I lifted her hips with a rolled towel, she told me which oil to use, I put her legs over my shoulders, and, aiming carefully, I slid it all the way in with almost no effort. I asked whether she did it often. She told me not with her husband, but in private she used big dildos. Once I’d adjusted her a bit, I started giving it to her the way she asked for it.

I don’t know how she enjoyed it from the front, but from behind it was a spectacle. She didn’t stop moaning and trembling, she opened her arms wide, her tits hung off the table, and she’d grab them again to bite her nipples. I fucked her harder and harder, pulling all the way out and then slamming back in. She took me with a softness I had never felt. After a while, stroking her clit firmly, she tensed up again and came brutally, with another gush pouring out of her body. I couldn’t hold back: I came inside her while I kept thrusting.

I ended up soaked in her squirt, from her pubis to her feet. She apologized again and I told her my wife needed to see this. When I came out, her ass was left wide open, letting everything of mine leak out. I helped her sit up and she hugged me, thanking me. I told her I was the one thanking her. She checked the time, hurried to tidy up, got dressed, kissed me goodbye for a long time, and I went home.

I had several messages from Lorena asking how it went. I answered that I’d tell her at home, but that it had been worth seeing.

***

That night, my wife told me the whole story of Pilar. Her sex life had always been poor. She married very young to a man ten years older who was never much of a lover, and she had grown used to thinking that was normal. To make matters worse, her squirting orgasms had never interested her husband, so for years she gave up on cumming fully so as not to make him uncomfortable.

Things got worse about seven years ago. He lost interest and the ability, and with the arrival of menopause the whole relationship faded out. The curious thing was that Pilar, after the worst of it passed, saw her desire shoot up so much that she thought about nothing else. She tried to talk to her husband, looked for help, but there was no way around it. She ruled out cheating from the start: small town, everybody knew everybody, too much fear of breaking up her family.

So she took refuge in masturbation. She turned her little massage center into her place of pleasure, taking advantage of the dead hours. She started with her hands and ended up with an entire collection of toys hidden in the practice room. She wasn’t only punishing her cunt: her ass gave her pleasure too, and she worked it often with large dildos.

Because of the trust she had with my wife and the hours on her table, Pilar had ended up telling her everything a couple of months earlier. She needed a man in her life and didn’t know how to get one without destroying what she had. Lorena, without telling me anything, decided that I would be the tool to give her that pleasure and, in the process, try to bring her closer to our little circle.

***

The next day, the two of them were left alone. The pretext was a relaxing massage for Lorena; in reality, they wanted to talk calmly about what had happened. I advised her to wear an outfit I’d given her and that she had never used: white, transparent, and tiny. She thought it was excessive, but I gave her the perfect argument: that way she would be more comfortable for the massage.

My wife told me everything in detail later. Pilar was stunned when she saw her in lingerie. The massage began and, between the warm oil, the skilled hands, and the conversation about what we had done the day before, Lorena started getting horny. When she turned over and let her bra fall, her nipples were hard as rocks and the thong fabric was soaked.

—Girl, what’s wrong with you, you’re just like the two of them —Pilar laughed.

—Does it bother you? —my wife asked her.

—Not at all, it’s funny.

Then Lorena confessed something Pilar didn’t know: that she was bisexual, that they had been sharing a bed with an old friend for some time, and that those caresses were turning her on. She asked her to touch her tits, then to go lower. Pilar hesitated, saying through laughter that she had never been with a woman, only with her husband and with me the day before. But her hands kept moving forward, brushing her pubis, her groin, without quite touching the center.

My wife couldn’t hold back any longer. She moved the thong aside, grabbed Pilar’s hand, and placed it between her legs.

—Touch me the way you touch yourself —she told her.

The hand stayed still for a moment, both of them silent. Then Pilar began sliding her fingers all over her slit, caressing the lips and the clit, getting herself wet, slipping in one finger, two, three. Lorena came almost immediately, as always, in spasms, flooding her hands.

—Did I do it right? —Pilar asked.

—Very well. And you, how are you feeling?

—I don’t know... strangely turned on. My panties are soaked. But this is new for me and it scares me.

—Do you want to try? If at any point you’re not comfortable, we stop. Our friendship comes first.

Pilar nodded slightly.

***

Lorena slowly unbuttoned her shirt and freed those enormous tits, one first, holding it up so it wouldn’t drop all at once, then the other. She lifted them with both hands and licked her nipples until they were fully hard. She took off the rest of her clothes, buried her nose in her panties and smelled them before leaving her naked. She asked if she was okay. Pilar nodded again.

On tiptoe, holding her by the ass, my wife rubbed against her, cunt to cunt, tits to tits. She laid her down, spread her legs, and began kissing her pubis. She looked into her eyes one more time before going down.

Lorena licked her slit, opened the lips with her tongue, and explored that new cunt, so dilated that it took her in without effort. She traced every corner and ended on the swollen clit, licking and sucking it until she drove her crazy. Pilar kept rubbing her tits and biting her nipples. The room filled with moans. When my wife slid a finger inside her and massaged that inner spot, the way she’d learned with me, Pilar exploded.

—I’m cumming, fuck, I’m cumming —she shouted, pulling at her nipples.

A powerful jet flooded my wife’s mouth, face, and chest until it reached the floor. Lorena was left just as stunned as I had been the day before by that spring.

—I’m sorry, I’m sorry —Pilar kept repeating.

—I loved it —my wife answered.

While she calmed down, Lorena kept asking her about her first time with a woman. Pilar, who didn’t consider herself lesbian or bisexual, was happy anyway. They tidied up, cleaned themselves, and said goodbye. She still had a lot of questions: mine she understood, she had always felt something for me, but having given herself to Lorena as well kept turning over in her head. The only clear thing was that she had enjoyed herself like never before with both of us.

***

When we got home, as every Thursday, Silvia was already there. We hadn’t seen each other at all over Christmas and she came hungry. She caught us in the middle of the act in the bedroom, her on all fours and me fucking her hard from behind.

—You bastards, you didn’t wait for me —she said, laughing.

And she joined in without a second thought.