Author: Akiko

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“Take your top off,” I said, hoarse. “I want to see you. Please.”

She hesitated, just a second. Then she stepped back, crossed her arms, and pulled her scrubs up over her head.

Her bra was plain white cotton, straining. She reached behind her, unhooked it, and let it fall. Her tits spilled out, full and soft and heavier than I’d ever let myself imagine, with big dusky nipples standing up hard in the warm air.

“Well?” she said, chin up, defiant, cheeks burning.

“Jesus, Claire.”

“Is that a good Jesus?”

“It’s the best Jesus.”

She laughed. Then she picked up the oil, poured a little into her palm, and slowly rubbed it over her own breasts while I watched. Squeezing them. Pinching her nipples. Lifting them, letting them fall, shining under the soft lamp.

My cock was jerking on its own. I reached for it. She shook her head.

“No,” she said. “Look. Don’t touch.”

She came closer, right up to the table, and leaned over until her nipples brushed my lips. I opened my mouth and she pulled away, smiling.

“That’s all you get,” she whispered. “This time.”

She put her bra back on, then her top, smoothing it down like nothing had happened. My cock was purple and aching.

“You’re evil,” I told her.

“I’ve waited eleven years. You can wait a week.” She blew me a kiss and walked out.

Ending 13 of 16: The Show. Go back and try a different choice for the full happy ending.

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I sat up, slid my oily hand behind her neck and kissed her.

She went up in flames. She grabbed my face and kissed me back like she was drowning, open-mouthed and hungry, moaning into me. She climbed half onto the table, straddling my thigh, grinding down on it through her scrubs. My cock was pressed hard against her belly and she rubbed herself against me like an animal.

I got my hands up under her top. Her skin was hot. I cupped her tits through her bra and she gasped into my mouth and rocked harder on my leg.

“Fuck, fuck, Mark…”

Then her pager went off.

A real pager, clipped to her waistband, buzzing and beeping like an angry insect. She ignored it. It went again.

“Reception,” she panted. “Means my three o’clock’s early.”

“Ignore it.”

“I can’t, she’s eighty-four, she’ll come looking.” She kissed me again, hard, desperate. Then she pulled back and looked at me, her lips swollen, hair coming loose, chest heaving.

“That was the best kiss of my entire life,” she said. “I hate you.”

She climbed off. Straightened her top. My thigh was damp where she’d been grinding, and my cock was throbbing so hard it hurt.

“Same time next week?” I croaked.

She paused at the door, flushed scarlet, a wild smile on her face.

“Don’t you fucking dare book anyone else,” she said, and left me there, hard as stone.

Ending 12 of 16: Just a Kiss. Go back and try a different choice for the full happy ending.

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“Kiss me,” I said. “Just that. Kiss me.”

She leaned down. Her lips were an inch from mine. I could feel her breath, smell the mint on it, see her pupils huge and black.

Then she stopped.

“I can’t,” she whispered.

“Claire…”

“I can’t, Mark.” She straightened up and wrapped her arms around herself. Her eyes were swimming. “If I kiss you, I won’t stop. I know I won’t. And then what? I sit across from Helen at Mum’s birthday and pass her the gravy?”

She was crying now, quietly, tears running down her flushed face. My cock was still standing up between us like an idiot, which didn’t help the mood.

I pulled the towel over myself. “Hey. Hey, it’s okay.”

“It’s not okay. I want you so much it hurts.” She laughed through the tears. “I’ve wanted you since before she even brought you home. Do you know that? I saw you first. At the pub quiz. I was working up the nerve and she just walked over.”

I didn’t know that. Eleven years and I never knew that.

She wiped her face on her sleeve. “I’m going to get Kelly to finish your session.”

“Claire, please.”

“Don’t.” She opened the door. Looked back once, at me lying there, aching and hard and helpless.

“Ask me again in a year,” she said. “If you’re still asking.”

The door clicked shut.

Ending 11 of 16: Cold Feet. Go back and try a different choice for the full happy ending.

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I rolled over to face her.

My cock slapped up onto my belly, red and swollen and leaking. Claire stood there with her oily hands in the air like a surgeon, staring at it.

“Mark,” she whispered. “I can’t touch that. If I touch that, I can’t take it back.”

“Okay.”

“But…” She swallowed. Her eyes didn’t move off it. “I want to see. I want to watch you.”

It took me a second to understand. Then I wrapped my own hand around my shaft, slick with her oil, and stroked.

Claire made a tiny noise. She sat down on the stool, right beside the table, close enough that I could feel her breath on my thigh. She pressed her knees together, hard.

“Slower,” she said.

I went slower. Long pulls, all the way up, squeezing the head. She watched every inch.

“Is that how you do it? When you think about me?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think about me?”

“Constantly.”

She bit her lip and pressed her hand between her own thighs, over her scrubs, rubbing in small circles. We watched each other. Her breathing went ragged. Her hips rocked against her hand.

“Come for me,” she whispered. “I want to see it.”

I came with her eyes locked on my cock, ropes of it splashing across my stomach, and she whimpered and shook on the stool, coming too, her hand jammed between her legs.

She never touched me once.

Ending 10 of 16: Watch Me. Go back and try a different choice for the full happy ending.

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I couldn’t help it. “Claire,” I moaned, and pushed my hips back into her hand.

She gasped. Then she did it again: fingers stroking my balls from behind, slow and slick, then sliding forward along the underside of my shaft where it was pinned against the table. Just her fingertips. Just a little.

It was enough. More than enough.

I felt it coming up from somewhere deep and had no chance of stopping it. My whole body locked. I groaned into the face cradle and came, hard, grinding into the sheet, pumping a hot, sticky mess under myself without her even wrapping a hand around me.

Claire froze. “Did you just…”

I couldn’t answer. I was still twitching.

“Oh my God.” She pulled her hand back. Then she started laughing, helplessly, hand over her mouth. “Oh my God, Mark. I barely touched you.”

“Eleven years,” I mumbled into the cradle. “Eleven years of build-up.”

“That’s the most flattering thing that has ever happened to me.” She was crying with laughter now. “I have to change the sheets. I have to explain the sheets.”

She threw a towel at me. When I finally rolled over, sticky and red-faced, she was leaning against the counter, flushed and grinning and visibly aroused, nipples straining through her scrubs.

“Next time,” she said, “you’re lasting longer than two fingers.”

“There’s a next time?”

“Book it before I come to my senses.”

Ending 9 of 16: The Hair Trigger. Go back and try a different choice for the full happy ending.

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I closed my eyes and said nothing.

I felt her hesitate. Her hand stayed flat on my stomach for one long breath, then another. Then, slowly, her fingertips slid under the edge of the towel.

Lower. Through the coarse hair. Her little finger brushed the base of my cock and I went rigid all over. She traced it upward, so lightly I could barely feel it, all the way up the shaft, under the towel, until her fingertip circled the wet head.

I bit my lip so hard I tasted copper.

She wrapped two fingers around me. Just two. Tested the weight. I heard her breath shudder out of her.

“Mark,” she whispered, and her hand started to close properly around my shaft.

Then the timer on the counter went off. A loud, shrill, digital beep, beep, beep.

She snatched her hand back like I’d burned her. We both stared at the timer. Ninety minutes. Done.

“That’s… time,” she said, in a strangled voice. “That’s your time.”

“Can I book another ninety?”

She laughed, too high, and backed toward the door. “I’ve got a client at three. Mrs. Hendry. Eighty-four. Plantar fasciitis.”

“Claire.”

She stopped with her hand on the door. Looked back at the towel, still tented, a little wet spot darkening the top.

“So close,” she said softly, almost to herself. Then she was gone.

I lay there staring at the ceiling, cock throbbing, ninety seconds from heaven.

Ending 8 of 16: The Near Miss. Go back and try a different choice for the full happy ending.

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“Do you still think about the wedding?” I asked.

Claire’s hand went still on my stomach. Then she smiled, slow and dangerous.

“Every time I see you,” she said. “Every single time.”

She tugged the towel away. My cock sprang free, slapping against my belly, and she looked at it the way I’d seen her look at chocolate cake at family birthdays. Like she was pretending she wasn’t going to have any.

“I’m not touching it with my hands,” she said. “My hands are for work.”

Then she bent over and licked me from balls to tip.

I nearly came off the table. She laughed against my shaft, warm breath and wet tongue, then wrapped her lips around the head and sucked, hard. Her cheeks hollowed. She slid down, inch by inch, until I hit the back of her throat and she held me there, gagging softly.

“Fuck, Claire.”

She came up for air with a string of spit between her lips and my cock. “Quiet,” she said, and went back down.

She sucked me like she’d been planning it for years. Sloppy, eager, swirling her tongue under the head, hands clasped behind her back like a rule she’d made for herself. When I warned her I was close, she just moaned and took me deeper.

I came straight down her throat. She swallowed every drop, then sat up and wiped her mouth.

“Ending your session now,” she said, breathless. “Tell no one.”

Ending 7 of 16: The Blowjob Instead. Go back and try a different choice for the full happy ending.

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I kept my hands behind my head. “Claire. It’s your call. I’m not going to touch you unless you tell me to.”

Something broke open in her face. She leaned down and kissed me, soft and slow, then wrapped her oiled hand around my cock.

“God, you’re thick,” she breathed, and started to stroke.

She was a masseuse, and it showed. Long, twisting pulls from root to tip, her other hand cupping and rolling my balls. Her thumb circled the head until I was leaking all over her knuckles. Then she’d slow right down and squeeze, and I’d have to bite my lip to stay quiet.

“You can touch me now,” she whispered. “Please.”

She pulled her top off, then unhooked her bra. Her tits fell free, full and heavy, dark nipples hard as stones. I reached up and filled my hands with them, and she moaned and stroked me faster.

Then she pushed me back down, poured warm oil straight down her cleavage, and leaned over the table.

She wrapped her tits around my cock.

“Eleven years,” she said, pushing them together with both hands. “Eleven fucking years I’ve wanted this.”

She fucked me with them slowly. Slick, soft, tight. The head of my cock pushed up between them on every stroke and she licked it. My balls tightened. My thighs shook.

“Come on my tits,” she whispered. “Give it all to me.”

I came hard, shooting thick and hot across her chest and neck, and she kept squeezing until I was empty.

Ending 6 of 16: The Full Happy Ending. You found the full happy ending.

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I reached up and pulled her down to me.

She came willingly for a second, her mouth crashing onto mine, her oily hand closing around my cock and giving it one hard, delicious stroke. I groaned into her mouth and fumbled at the hem of her scrubs, desperate to get my hands on her tits.

Then my phone rang.

It was on the chair with my clothes. That ringtone. The one I set for Helen years ago, a stupid little jingle from our honeymoon.

Claire froze. Her hand was still wrapped around my shaft. We both stared at the phone screen lighting up: HELEN, with a photo of the two of us in Lisbon.

“Don’t,” Claire said. “Don’t answer that.”

It kept ringing. It rang out. Then it started again.

“She’ll keep calling,” I said. “She always does.”

Claire let go of me. She stepped back, wiping her palm on her scrubs, and I watched the whole thing drain out of her face. The heat. The want. All of it replaced by something like horror.

“That’s my sister,” she said quietly. “Calling her husband. While I’ve got his dick in my hand.”

“Claire…”

“Answer it.” She handed me the phone. “Go on.”

I answered. Helen wanted to know if I could pick up milk. I said yes. My cock was still standing up, shiny with oil, while I talked to my wife about semi-skimmed.

When I hung up, Claire was gone. The session ended twenty minutes early.

Ending 5 of 16: The Phone Call. Go back and try a different choice for the full happy ending.

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“I meant every word,” I said. “Every single one. I just didn’t want to scare you off.”

She laughed, low and dark. “You don’t scare me, Mark.”

Then she leaned down, right by my ear, and slid her hand under the towel. All the way. Her oiled fingers slipped between my thighs from behind and cupped my balls, warm and slick, and squeezed gently.

I made a noise I’m not proud of.

“I’ve thought about this,” she whispered. “I’ve thought about touching you so many times. In the shower. In bed. At Mum’s, while you were carving the turkey.” Her fingers rolled my balls slowly. “I’ve made myself come thinking about you more times than I can count.”

“Claire. Fuck.”

“But not today.” She let go. Just like that. My hips actually chased her hand.

She pulled the towel back up, patted my arse twice, and walked round to the head of the table so I could see her feet.

“Today you get a massage,” she said. “And you go home to my sister. And you think about this all week.”

“And then?”

She crouched so her face was level with mine through the cradle. She was smiling, flushed and wicked.

“And then you book again. Same time next Friday. Ask for me by name.” She licked her lip. “Wear something easy to take off.”

I lay there for the rest of the session, hard as iron, absolutely tortured.

Ending 4 of 16: The Tease. Go back and try a different choice for the full happy ending.

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