While on vacation two years ago, H hired a masseur to give me a massage in our room. I was nude as I lay on his portable table (my idea, but he did admit that that made it a lot easier). I did love feeling his hands on my naked skin and gave little sighs and moans to let him know I really enjoyed it when he was close to my pussy. He told us that he did not give tantric massages, but he did repeat one stroke which was pretty close. He’d take the flat of his palm and go up between my legs until he was pulling my clit back and exposing the unhooded tip to his passing palm. Yummy! I’d look over at H every now-and-then to see his reaction as he pretended to be working on his computer.
Then a year ago, H arranged for us to meet a guy he’d contacted on the Internet about a non-professional “massage” in a hotel room in a nearby city. H told him that sexual touching, cunnilingus, and fellatio were OK activities but that he’d prefer that G not fuck me. H did tell him that I was submissive as I undressed for the two of them, but G never did really get into any role playing. H just sat and watched enjoying the show. My favourite part of that night was when G took my vibrator and pushed it hard against my clit as he rubbed it around for what seemed like an eternity. It seemed like I was having one continuous orgasm. The desperate moans coming from my throat got louder and louder until I screamed the loudest I ever had in the final climax. I’m surprised the hotel neighbours didn’t send security to our room.