I've had the great pleasure of getting to know Daisy over the last few weeks and have enjoyed hearing about some of her experiences. She has a great understanding of her feminine mind, and a wonderful discipline about her..
Daisy will be with me a while and as we are keeping her time with me mostly private, I was very pleased when she agreed to share some of her earlier adventures in life when she was on the road to discovering who she is.
Introducing a series from Daisy about the adventures in her life beginning with several encounters with a masseur.....
I’m not completely certain in which order my various assignations actually occurred anymore, or even when. They did all happen though.
I think the sequence went TV Mistress, male Masseur, female Mistress, female Mistress. The latter two I’m sure of, so far as the three Mistresses. The complication though is that the Masseur appears three times in the overall story and I’m not sure where the overlaps are. No matter though, a Daisy can only be deflowered once and I know that was the third time I visited him. So I am going to tell the Masseur’s story first.
As you know, I claim to be an endurance athlete. As you will also come realise, as we get older our bodies can sometimes hurt, more so after intense exercise. So, several years ago, following some race or another, I booked myself in for a sports massage with a qualified masseur, via the internet.
A couple of days later I drove to the address I’d been given. It was a residential street of pretty, slightly twee, detached bungalows. Red-brick with lots of wide windows in the frontages, tulips in the gardens. Curious, definitely not a business area. I found the correct address, no sign or business plate. I rang the bell.
The porch door was opened by a quite small man, perhaps 40 years old, with still wet hair. He was slim and, as his sleeveless shirt and shorts showed, tanned and muscular. He had just got out of the shower he said as he asked me in, his voice soft and friendly. He directed me to the massage room at the rear of the house, told me to undress and that he would be in shortly.
The room was just as you would perhaps imagine. Perfumed with incense, windowless and comfortably warm with soft pastel hangings and Buddhist pictures and statuettes around. Candles, soft lighting and quiet meditative music.
On the full length massage table were a couple of thick white towels. I undressed completely, wondering if I was expected to keep some clothing on, and wrapped a towel around my waist. I was completely hairless and smooth. Not that it would matter though, I was a cyclist if asked.
He returned, we discussed what I was there for (a deep tissue massage, since you ask….) and I got on the table, initially face down with my head through the hole.
A massage followed. He knew what he was doing and it felt really good, in that inevitably painful way. He was strong and capable and clearly knew his business. He used a warmed, perfumed oil. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. Lying on the narrow table though, I would occasionally feel him pushing against my arms as he leant over me. It took me a while to realise that what I was feeling was his erect penis.
Still, I’ve never been a prude and he was the best masseur I had ever been to. The massage ended, I went home smelling nice and commented about the “camp” demeanour of my masseur to my wife. Not judgemental, just slightly amused at his arousal, though I didn’t actually mention that, or his erection….. I found the whole experience relaxing and enjoyable and, during a stressful period of my life, I repeated it a few months later. Same thing, a masseur just showered, a deep tissue massage. Same enjoyable experience. Same oil on same smooth skin. Same erection. One slight difference, the first time he had moved my towel to massage my glutes and then replaced it as he asked me to turn over. This time, there was a lag and I was still uncovered as I rolled over. I wasn’t caged. I was hairless. I’m fairly sure I heard a gentle gasp before the towel covered me. Still, I’ve never been a prude and he was the best masseur I had ever been to. The massage ended, I went home smelling nice and didn’t comment about the “camp” demeanour of my masseur to my wife. She didn’t ask. A few months later and I was exploring his website (I know) when I noticed he also did something called Tantric massage. I’m not totally naive (I have another story about this…. later) and I sort of realised what this was, though there were two versions, one of which didn’t include the lingam. Still, I’ve never been a prude and he was the best masseur I had ever been to. I booked the “non-lingam” version. As a new experience. I like those and he wouldn’t be touching my penis. So I find myself on the massage table for the third time. Face down, towel over my glutes. I hear him walk in the room. It’s semi-dark as always, relaxing and sweet smelling, a treat for the senses. He starts the massage after explaining about Tantric breathing…… I am to breathe in a particular way, directed into and out of various bodily areas as he works….. He completely removes my towel, tells me to turn over. I do. He is stood at the side of the table completely naked and proudly erect. Still, I’ve never been a prude and he was the best masseur I have ever been to. I closed my eyes, he started to massage me, nothing out of the ordinary and a normal full body massage. Except at one point I am fairly certain he had my soft penis in his mouth. It was certainly in his hands. Still, I’ve never been a prude. I didn’t get hard though, I’m chilled about it and I’m not gay. He tells me to turn face down, and starts to work his way around the table. As he is working my glutes his fingers and the hot oil are getting more and more into my hairless pussy. I had been using plugs for years……. I can feel his cock on my arm hot and hard…… Eventually he makes his way to the head of the table, my face is still a way down the table in the hole. He reaches forward to massage my upper back. I reach forward and take his cock in my hand, my oily hand. I’m not looking at it and it feels so good. I slide my oily thumb on his frenum, the sensitive part. He carries on massaging. His hot hardness is getting hotter and harder. He gently says “would you like it in you?”. I hear myself saying “yes, please” like it was somebody else. He leaves the room. I turn over to see where he went, lying on my back, looking past my feet to the door. He returns, a condom on his hard cock. I hold out my arms to him, part my legs and welcome him. He slides up my body and kisses me gently on the mouth. I can still feel his stubble, it was lovely and masculine. He carefully locates himself at my opening and then penetrates me. He is not huge and it is comfortable and comforting, my arms around him. He works his way fully into me and we lie together as he gently thrusts. I am still soft and that’s fine. This is Tantric sex though and he doesn’t want to orgasm, even though I said I was fine with it. So we lie together in warmth and intimacy for a while, cocooned in the languid, perfumed darkness. The massage ended, I went home smelling nice and didn’t comment about the “camp” demeanour of my masseur to my wife. She didn’t ask.
And I won't tell....Ooops, I did.
Seriously, Daisy, I appreciate you sharing your experiences with the readers of my blog.
I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did. More of Daisy's adventures soon.....
Mistress Brianna xx