A twenty-three-year-old on a birthday voucher discovers that the silver-haired masseuse in the converted barn has been waiting years to teach a girl like her exactly how to be touched.
The voucher had been a birthday present from her aunt. One deep tissue massage, ninety minutes, at a place called Hollin Barn Studio, twenty minutes outside town down a lane with grass growing up the middle.
$name1 had turned twenty-three that week. She had spent most of it finishing her dissertation, hunched over a laptop, and her shoulders felt like they had been poured in concrete.
It was raining hard when she pulled into the yard. The barn was old stone with a new glass front, warm light spilling out onto the wet gravel.
The woman who opened the door was not what she expected.
“You must be $name1. I’m Margot. Come in out of that.”
Margot was somewhere around fifty. Tall, silver hair cut sharp at the jaw, linen trousers and a fitted black top that clung to a full, heavy chest and a narrow waist. She had laugh lines around grey eyes that looked at $name1 a little too long, a little too slowly.
“Shoes off, coat on the hook. The room’s through there. Undress as far as you’re comfortable and get under the sheet, face down. I’ll knock.”
The room was the old hayloft, all exposed beams and a sloping roof. Rain drummed on the skylight. Candles burned on a low shelf. The table was wide and padded and warm to the touch, heated from underneath.
$name1 hesitated at her knickers. Then she thought, why not, and slid them off too. She lay down naked under the cotton sheet with her face in the cradle and her heart beating faster than it should.
The knock came. Margot came in quietly and the door clicked shut.
“How are we feeling?”
“Tight,” $name1 said. “Everywhere.”
“Mm. We’ll see about that.”
Margot folded the sheet down to the very base of her spine. $name1 heard the click of a bottle, the wet sound of oil being warmed between palms. It smelled of almond and something darker, sandalwood maybe.
Then hands. Big, strong, warm hands, spreading oil across her shoulders in long slow sweeps.
$name1 groaned out loud before she could stop herself.
“There it is,” Margot murmured. “Let it out, love. Nobody can hear you out here but me.”
For a long time it was just a massage. A very, very good one. Margot worked her thumbs into knots $name1 hadn’t known she had, pressing until it almost hurt, then easing off so the relief flooded through her. She worked down either side of her spine, out across her ribs, back up to her neck.
Every so often her fingertips strayed. A slow drag down the side of $name1’s ribcage, close enough to brush the swell of her breast where it was squashed against the table. A pause there. Then away again.
$name1 told herself she imagined it.
Margot moved down to her legs. She folded the sheet up from the bottom, exposing her calves, then her thighs, and worked oil into them with long, kneading strokes that started at the ankle and travelled up, and up, and up.
Each stroke went a little higher. By the fifth or sixth, Margot’s thumbs were sliding right up the inside of her thighs and stopping a bare inch from her pussy.
$name1 was wet. She could feel it. She was mortified and she was soaked, and she knew that if Margot looked, she would see.
“You’re holding your breath,” Margot said softly.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Just breathe.”
Margot’s hands came back to the tops of her thighs, then slid up under the sheet, over the curve of her bare arse. She didn’t ask. She just kneaded, both hands full of $name1’s cheeks, spreading them gently apart and pushing them together again in slow circles.
$name1 felt the cool air of the room touch her wet slit as her cheeks parted. She bit her lip and let a whimper out anyway.
The hands stopped.
“$name1,” Margot said. Her voice had gone lower. “I’m going to ask you something, and you can say no, and I’ll finish your massage like a good girl and you’ll never hear another word about it.”
$name1 lifted her face out of the cradle and looked back over her shoulder. Margot was standing at her hip with oil glistening on her forearms, cheeks flushed, nipples hard as bullets through her black top.
“Ask me,” $name1 said.
“Do you want me to make you come?”
The rain hammered on the skylight. $name1 swallowed.
“Yes. God, yes. Please.”
Margot smiled, slow and wicked. “Turn over for me, then.”
$name1 rolled onto her back. The sheet slid away completely and she lay there naked, small perky tits with pink nipples drawn tight, a neat strip of dark hair above her pussy, her thighs already parting.
Margot looked at her for a long moment, the way a woman looks at a meal she has been very hungry for.
“Look at you,” she breathed. “Twenty-three and dripping on my table.”
She poured more oil straight onto $name1’s chest. It ran warm between her tits and down over her belly. Then Margot’s hands were on her breasts, cupping them, squeezing, sliding her oiled palms over the hard little nipples until $name1 arched off the table.
“Have you been with a woman before?”
“Once. At uni. It was… drunk. Quick.”
“Then nobody has done this properly.” Margot pinched both nipples between finger and thumb and rolled them, hard. $name1 cried out. “I’m going to take my time with you.”
She bent and took one nipple into her mouth.
Margot’s mouth was hot and greedy. She sucked hard, flicked her tongue across the tip, grazed it with her teeth, then switched to the other while her oily fingers kept tugging on the first. $name1 grabbed the edges of the table and moaned like she was in pain.
One of Margot’s hands drifted down over her belly, through the oil, through the little strip of hair, and cupped her whole pussy in her palm.
“Oh, you filthy girl,” Margot whispered against her breast. “You’re soaking.”
She slid one finger slowly between $name1’s lips, from bottom to top, and circled her clit.
$name1’s hips jerked up off the table.
“Shh. Slowly.” Margot kept circling, light, teasing, never quite enough. “You’ve been in a hurry your whole life, haven’t you? Deadlines. Essays. Rushing. Not in here.”
She pushed one long finger inside her. Then two. $name1 felt herself clench around them, and Margot curled them up and pressed, slowly, against a spot that made her see stars.
“There,” Margot said. “That’s your sweet spot. Remember where I found it.”
She fucked her with those two fingers, slow and deep, thumb rolling over her clit, mouth back on her nipple. $name1’s whole body was slick with oil and sweat. The table creaked under her. She was babbling, please and yes and fuck, words she didn’t even recognise as her own.
When she was right on the edge, Margot pulled her fingers out.
“No — please, I was so close –”
“I know.” Margot sucked her fingers clean, one at a time, staring down at her. “You taste lovely. I want it from the source.”
She walked to the end of the table, took hold of $name1’s ankles and dragged her down until her arse was right at the edge. Then she pushed her knees wide apart and knelt between them.
$name1 propped herself up on her elbows to watch. Margot’s silver head between her thighs. Grey eyes looking up at her over the mound of her pussy.
Margot licked her. One long, flat, slow lick from her hole to her clit.
$name1 fell back onto the table and sobbed.
Margot ate her like she had all night. Broad flat licks, then the tip of her tongue fluttering at her clit, then her whole mouth sealed over it, sucking. She pushed her tongue deep inside her and fucked her with it, nose grinding against her clit. She spread $name1’s lips with her fingers and kissed her pussy like it was a mouth, wet and open and filthy.
“Come on my face,” Margot growled into her. “Go on. Give it to me.”
She slid two fingers back in, found that spot again, and sucked her clit hard.
$name1 came screaming. Her thighs clamped around Margot’s head and her back bowed off the table and she felt herself gush, a hot wet rush that soaked Margot’s chin. Margot didn’t stop. She kept licking, kept fingering, dragging the orgasm out until $name1 was shaking and begging her to stop and then, as it faded, begging her not to.
Margot stood up slowly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her chin shone.
“Good girl,” she said.
Then she peeled off her black top.
Her tits were magnificent. Heavy and full, a little low with age, wide dark nipples standing out hard. She stepped out of her linen trousers and she was naked underneath, her pussy shaved bare, her inner thighs glistening.
“Your turn to learn,” Margot said, and climbed up onto the table.
It was wide enough, just. Margot knelt astride $name1’s chest, then shuffled forward until her bare pussy hovered over $name1’s face. $name1 could smell her, musky and rich. She could see how swollen and wet she was.
“Tongue out,” Margot ordered.
$name1 obeyed. Margot lowered herself onto it.
She was hot and slippery and tasted sharper than $name1 expected. Margot gripped the headrest of the table and rocked her hips, slowly, using $name1’s tongue, guiding her.
“Higher. There. Suck it. Oh, yes, good girl, just like that.”
$name1 grabbed her big soft arse with both hands and pulled her down harder. She sucked Margot’s clit into her mouth and flicked it with her tongue the way Margot had done to her. Above her, Margot’s heavy tits swung as she rode her face. $name1 reached up and squeezed one, pinched the dark nipple, and Margot swore filthily.
“Fuck, yes. Pinch it harder. Harder, you little –”
$name1 twisted it. Margot ground down hard onto her mouth and came, her thighs trembling either side of $name1’s head, a hot flood of her juices running down $name1’s chin and neck.
She didn’t climb off. She turned around.
Margot lay down along $name1’s body the other way, her face back between $name1’s thighs, her dripping pussy still over $name1’s mouth. Sixty-nine on a massage table, both of them slick with almond oil, sliding against each other.
“Again,” Margot said, and buried her face in her.
They ate each other for what felt like an hour. Margot finger-fucked her with three fingers this time, stretching her, and $name1 copied everything she felt, pushing her own fingers into Margot’s soaking hole, curling them, sucking, licking, learning. When Margot slid one oiled fingertip down and circled $name1’s arsehole, pressing just inside, $name1 came again so hard she nearly bit her.
Eventually they lay tangled together on the table, sticky and breathless, the candles burned low, rain still drumming on the glass overhead.
Margot stroked $name1’s hair.
“That was a ninety-minute voucher,” she said lazily. “We’re well over two hours.”
$name1 laughed, her face against Margot’s big soft breast.
“How much do I owe you?”
Margot tilted her chin up and kissed her, slow and deep, tasting of both of them.
“Book again next week,” she said. “And I’ll show you what I keep in the bottom drawer.”
