I suppose everyone has heard of the classic movie Christmas Story, set in the 40s about a young boy, Ralphie, who wants nothing but a Red Ryder BB gun for Christmas. After many let-downs by people telling him that he’ll put his eye out, by the time Christmas approached he was so stressed out, that he had given up on the idea of getting his wish for Christmas. This story has become an American classic next to Miracle on 34th Street and It’s a Wonderful Life.

My Christmas story falls into this same category. It’s not set in the 40s, but I am almost in my 40s. Let’s call late 30’s. My name is Cindy, divorced for over a dozen years; single mother of two high school aged girls. I’m tall around dark brown hair with auburn highlights (no gray), sparkling blue eyes and in pretty good shape from spending several free hours a week at the gym.

But, every year as the holiday season approached, I would think of that movie and compare myself to Ralphie; wishing for my special Christmas gift. No, it wasn’t something dangerous that might put your eye out, but it was very difficult item to find. Being particular about everything I desired, I wasn’t about to rush into the local Wal-mart and scout out the first thing that came to mind. This gift I wanted to remember for the rest of my life.

What I have been looking for was an honest to goodness unforgettable once in a lifetime treat. There were plenty of run-of-the-mill types available, but I wanted the best. And as you know, the bests are usually taken. I was looking for that special something that I’ve been yearning for most of my adult life but unable to find; like Ralphie, I had just about given up, until this year. My Christmas wish finally came through. Actually I didn’t find it on my own. I had some help.

My older sister in Quincy, MA had found it for me. It has been a few years since I’ve seen Rhoda, but we talk and send emails when we get a chance. Being only three years apart, we were very close when we were younger. And even as we grew older we kept in contact. It seems that we have some ESP connection between us. We could always read each other minds; it was hard to keep secrets between us. We still exchange gifts during the holidays every year; and we’ve always seem to have gotten just what we wanted.

I have a very successful career in the jewelry industry and put in many long stressful hours a day. Christmas season I just about live at work. It is a living hell, but I still enjoy it. When it’s over I try to take a mini vacation just to unwind. Basically, my idea of a vacation consists of doing just about nothing. By the end of hell week, or should I say hell month, I was totally drained. I wished I had a personal masseur waiting for me at home; but that wasn’t going to happen either. I needed a massage badly to get rid of the aches and pains from being at the computer terminal for so many hours. I’ve had massages before. They’re wonderful, but the effects are short lived. Most of the time they leave me still tensed up.

It seems that a certain pent-up anxiety is still in need of a little extra release, which is just not available from a conventional massage; if you know what I mean. I tried a few ibuprofens to ease some of the tension; but that wasn’t it. More often than not, I would find myself going home after my massage and continue where my masseuse, or sometimes a masseur, had finished. I would strip and lie in bed and begin caressing places I wished they had touched. It was long before I reached over to my nightstand drawer and removed a bottle of personal lube and my magic bunny rabbit. I didn’t realize I was so wet. That massage must have done more to me than I imagined.

I turned on my vibrating toy and without even using the lube I began sliding the shaft between my slippery lips. I spread my legs wide and angle the smooth flexible dildo to my vagina. I lifted my hips to meet the tip and engulfed its total length. The little round balls inside the silicone shaft were spinning and gyrating inside my body cavity. The rapidly vibrating bunny ears drilled into each side of my clitoris. I sensed myself breathing faster as I began sliding the shaft in and out. With each deep thrust, I made sure the little bunny pressed its vibrating head against the tip of my clit. I just closed my eyes, took a deep breath and held it while I felt my body beginning to shake. Heaven came within minutes as I writhed and let out my breath with a scream of pleasure from a much needed release.
Next thing I knew, it was morning when I opened my eyes from my much needed sleep.

I continued to search for that elusive something that was missing in my life.
Then one day I read an article, I think it was in People Magazine about how a lot of celebrities were treating themselves to a Apparently it was something that was the ‘in’ thing to do. The article mentioned pain and pleasure, but the pleasure outweighed the pain. It piqued my interest further; so naturally I had to investigate this. After ripping your out and making you feel like your crotch is on fire, I found it difficult to see where the pleasure part came into play. There were several salons not too far from me, so I decided to made an appointment and try this.

Let me say one thing. The first time it hurt like hell; I thought my lips were torn off. The pain soon melted when the technician sprinkled some cool scented powder and began spreading it all around my now bald pussy. After savagely ripping the hair from my most sensitive parts, my technician, Marisol, knew that the soothing part of the operation was most important if she wanted a larger tip. Well, she knew just how long and how tenderly to apply the lotion. Although it seemed to me that she spent a longer time than necessary to powder me, I certainly didn’t mind. Her hands and fingers massaged all the right spots.

The pain was quickly forgotten and on several occasions I could feel my tummy fluttering from her touch. I wanted to ask her if she would continue, but I knew I would have felt embarrassed if came in front of a stranger. After all, what was I thinking; this was a hair salon not an erotic massage parlor. There’s a time and place for that kind of activity; if I only knew where to find it. I always left with a smile even if it wasn’t showing on my face; because of this she always got the larger tip from me. That was about the extent of my pleasure pain lifestyle. I was still looking for the big one; my obsession.

After several sessions at the Brazilian salon, I finally worked up the courage to seriously pursue my fantasy obsession; that which I have been wishing for all my life. I was beginning to think it didn’t exist. I’ll tell you what it is. I wanted an erotic sexual massage; a mind blowing, thunderous orgasmic type massage. I’ve heard about them and read some erotic stories about them, but never knew where to get one. I yearned to be lying totally naked on a warm massage table and be touched all over. I needed to be touched; I enjoy being touched. Even more arousing and exciting was the thought of a total stranger touching every inch of my quivering form. I wanted to feel the trembling of every bone in my body. I was looking for a professional who would do me to my delight and keep his dick and his thoughts of his own pleasures to himself. Great idea if it was at all possible.

Rhoda sent me an email just before the Christmas and invited me to come up for a week or two. She reminded me (as if I needed reminding) that Christmas rush is exhausting and that a week or two at her house would be just what the doctor ordered. Some how her memo got on the subject of massage and how she and Sharon have been getting massages on a regular basis from this guy named Pete. She also mentioned there would be a special Christmas present waiting for me when I got there. This got me thinking; I wonder if Rhoda is setting me up for a massage. If Rhoda says he’s great, I will have to pack my stuff and head to Quincy. Maybe there really is something more in a massage. I wonder if Rhoda found it.

I phoned Rhodes after reading her email and accepted her invitation. I also told her that I’d be coming earlier. The rush was taking its toll on me and I needed extra time off. I had someone covering for me at work. The real reason I was going sooner; I couldn’t wait. Thinking of a sexual massage became an obsession once more; after all, a woman has to set her priorities. The longing thought of a sexual massage was on my mind and I prodded her to tell me more about my surprise. I blurted right an erotic massage isn’t it?” She gave in a little and said something to the fact that it could be. She then started explaining the kind of sensual treatment she had been getting ever since Harry passed away.

Rhoda never mentioned sex, just sensual, so I didn’t know the whole extent of their relationship. One thing about Rhoda, once she starts talking, she tells it all. Rhoda began telling me that she has known Pete for many years,

“He is a neighbor and lives just a few houses away. He used to come over and give both me and Harry a massage once a month. After Harry had passed, the massages stopped also. When Sharon came back home to live, she noticed I wasn’t as spry as I used to be. I explained my depression and aches and pains to old age. Sharon, knowing me as she does, said she had the cure. She told me to call Pete and ask him if he would come over and give me one of his soothing massages. Sharon reminded me when I was on a program before, he made me feel great. She kept prodding me to give it a try.

What do you have to lose? It can’t hurt. I’ll fill you in on some of the details when you come up. But what I can tell you is that I called Pete and asked him to come over to give me a massage; a special massage; something different than the norm. I told Pete about how I was feeling and he seemed to know just what I needed. I melted with every touch. I’ve returned to a monthly schedule and sometimes bi-monthly ever since.”

To say the least, I was also a bit jealous; I never expected Rhodes to have another man in her life. I thought about what Rhoda used to say; she was always looking for that little extra near the end of her past massages, but never was able to get it. The extent of her sexual pleasure was similar to mine; usually solitaire and more often with the aid of some vibrating toys. It was satisfying but there was still the absence of human touch. The right human touch really makes a difference!

After hanging up the phone I began thinking more and more about the human touch part of the conversation. The more I thought about it, the more I felt the need to be touched. I was making myself horny just thinking about a possible erotic massage during my vacation.

“What the hell, I’m game for anything right now. I could use a little pleasure.”
I got ready for bed but couldn’t get to sleep so I pulled one of the x-rated romance paperbacks from the nightstand. I opened it up and began reading softly out loud to myself; a chapter about Vivian at her new tennis club.

“It was late in the day and the club personnel were minimal. Vivian just had a workout and was finishing her shower. As she stepped out still dripping with a towel wrapped around her, she could hear some sounds coming from a couple of doors down the hall.
Sounds like the massage room”

Already feeling a little tingly, I slid my right hand inside my flannel pajama waistband.

“The massage room was a few doors down the hall from the shower room. As Vivian approached the open door, the voices became familiar. She heard from the other women that they have a handsome masseur who really knows how to rub women the right way and you should make an appointment. As she neared the door, the words turned into sounds of sexual pleasure. Her bare feet padded across the cool floor across the floor to get a closer look and peaked in the door ajar. The sounds she recognized were from her red-headed neighbor, Jessica, the doctor’s wife. She was lying totally naked on one of the massage tables; not with the club masseur but with Wally, one of the tennis pros.”

Holding the book with just my left hand, I inched my right further into my pj bottoms. I became aroused from this scene at the tennis club. My fingers softly brushed through my short haired bush and felt my fingertips nudge against my clitty as I read further. I reached further into my wetness and dragged my lubrication back up to my little swelling nub.

“Vivian continued to watch from the doorway as Wally removed his white tennis shorts and approached the massage table. Jessica was on lying on her back with her firm butt at the end of the table. Her long thin legs were spread wide with her knees up as Wally slowly moved in between them with his throbbing manhood. My God, what a huge cock Wally has, thought Vivian.”

My hand was slippery and pressing firmer over my swollen clitoris.

” Vivian continued to watch as Wally teased Jessica by tapping his solid shaft on her upper thigh and across her red haired mound. Then slowly Wally gripped his massive tool and began sliding himself up and down her hot />
I began patting my clit and sliding my fingers between my lips. I was picturing Wally with his massive dick doing the same to me.

“Vivian was shocked and also excited from watching her neighbor. She loosened her towel and found her own hand compelled to reach inside her towel to her own hot moistness. Wally then angled his swollen head and Vivian let out a soft whimper as Wally’s swollen head parted her hot stretched lips and entered her body. Vivian couldn’t tear her eyes from the torrid scene as Wally thrust deeply into Jessica’s starving pussy. Her moans became louder as Wally continued to repeatedly slam his swollen dick deep into her seething love canal. Vivian played with her own pussy until her knees became weak. The slapping sound of flesh pumping into flesh was echoing into the hall. The massage room was screaming with orgasms as Vivian ran back to the shower room to

That was it for me! I put the book down and pulled my pants down to my ankles. Reaching for my little pink eared friend, I thought of the , a nickname I had given to my Thumper massager, but I was so fucking hot from this short adventure of Vivian, I didn’t need the pounding treatment of the I grasped my bunny by the shaft and turned it on. Slowly I slid him up and down just like Wally. I was so wet I couldn’t hold off. My rabbit was inside quicker than Wally got into Jessica. I slid the pink shaft in until the little bunny ears did their dance on my clit.

The vibrating ears made me jump from the initial shock to my clitty, but I soon settled down to enjoy the steady buzz. I lay motionless as I held it tight against my clit for a moment to enjoy its incessant tickling. My horny body was already tingling before I began thrusting the shaft in and out. Every ten to twenty strokes as the bunny hit my clit I held it there for a few extra seconds while my juicy vagina contracted and squeezed the shaft.

Everything was slippery as I drove my rabbit faster and harder; in and out like a machine. The vibrating ears continually slamming into my engorged clitty with each thrust was rapidly sending me into oblivion. On the fourth or fifth time I buried the pole and paused to let the humming bunny ears do their job, I could feel that familiar sensation. My vagina gripped the lubricated pole and held the slick little bunny against my clit for the remaining ride. I heard myself saying, ‘Oh, Wally, you are so good.’ My body shook and shuddered for a full five minutes before the final contractions subsided.

Thank you, Mr. Rabbit! Beat that, Jessica, Thank you, Wally! I thought to myself.

Next thing I knew when I opened my eyes, it was the next morning; this has happened several times lately. On the rare occasions whenever I do have a powerful orgasm, it seems I just drift off into dreamland. I didn’t mind the extra rest at all. The light was still on in my room with my book on my left and Mr. Rabbit still on the right keeping me company. My pj bottoms were still at my ankles with only one foot still in them. Wow! What a night! When all else fails, it’s true; the human touch will help you to sleep.

story by: Pete R Bishop

Tags: masturbation erotica exhibitionism voyeurism true story female solo sex story Pete R Bishop

Author: massage

Related sex stories: