A massage with Imogen

After a long day of work, you need nothing more than a nice, relaxing break to finish off your day. Luckily, you remember Dominic mentioning during the hall meeting a mental health event going on tonight. A quick search online reveals what it is—professional massages courtesy of the university, at the student center!

But when you arrive there, you only see a wire frame set up in the large mezzanine activities-space, the hanging orange curtains dividing the space into half a dozen individual cells.

“Where is everyone?” you hear Imogen say.

You turn around to see her coming up the steps from the floor below, dressed up in a full suit that still does a fair job of accentuating her curves. Despite the full suite of make-up that she’s put on, you can see her dark eyebags and the weary lines that crease her forehead.

“Are you here for a massage too?” you ask her.

“Well duh,” Imogen says. “After a full day of classes and then eight hours of work? I’ve been dreaming about this for hours now.”

All of a sudden, one of the curtains draws back, revealing an attractive looking south Asian guy with huge biceps in masseuse’s robes. There’s a massage table set up by his side, where some guy is lying face down, butt naked, apparently in the middle of getting a damn good massage from the way he looks up at the two of you with a semi-glazed expression.

“Sorry, this is the last shift we’re doing tonight, and I think we’re all out of spots,” the guy says apologetically, while doing some crazy karate-chopping motions down the student’s back. “We do have an empty stall at the end of the row. There’s a massage table and essential oils set up there if you want to chill there and relax!”

With that, he draws back the curtain, leaving you and Imogen staring at one another.

“You got a good reason to take the stall from me?” she asks you, already walking over to the last stall, quicker than you despite her heels.

“I don’t need a massage—or even to relax—as badly as you,” you say, gesturing for her to go on. “But I do know how to give a damn good massage… so maybe I’ll be sharing the stall with you, rather than taking it from you.”

“Someone’s feeling bold tonight,” she smiles, drawing open the orange curtain and revealing a massage bed, complete with a towel next to it and several bottles of some kind of oil. “Well then? What are you waiting for? Get in here.”

A moment later, the orange curtain’s shut again, leaving you and Imogen in awfully close quarters. She makes quick work of her clothes, stripping it off and folding it into a neat pile on the stand next to the bed, and then she sinks down onto the massage bed, almost before you can register it happening.

You take a second to appreciate her nude form, her bronzed skin and the hint of muscle lining her back, but most of all, you fixate your gaze on her naked, beautiful bubble butt sticking up in the air. It takes almost all of your willpower to not just reach out and squeeze it right there, but you think to yourself, maybe if I play my cards right...

“Even the best masseuses can’t get the job done with their eyes,” Imogen says, looking over her shoulder at you.

You hurriedly meet her eye and say: “I was just checking out the different oils they have here. It’s a good selection.”

“Well, keep taking your time,” she chuckles.

On a whim, you snatch the lavender oil off the stand, and pour a generous amount of it down Imogen’s back, watch her skin get covered in that characteristic glistening sheen. Then, you get to work, your hands starting from the top of her shoulders in a kneading motion. You can feel the tightness there, even though you are (despite your claims) not an experienced masseuse, and through a couple minutes of solid work, pushing and pressing and working the muscles, you feel Imogen slowly relaxing, starting to trust you, the massage clearly doing something.

That’s when you start to work your way downwards. You give her arms a quick once over, caressing them with hard presses from your thumbs, something that she seems to find stimulating from her soft sighs, and then it’s on to her back, with more firm kneading. Your fingers brush by the side of her tits as you work over the sides, and you watch Imogen carefully for her reaction. The slight hint of a smile that you see encourages you as you go down to her lower back, pressing the small of her back with the heel of your hand.

“That’s almost the spot,” she sighs.

“Is this it?” you say, suddenly grabbing a handful of her ass.

“That’s not what I meant,” she murmurs, but she does nothing more to stop you as you continue kneading her ass, grabbing and pinching and worshipping those perfect curves.

“You sure?” you ask, as you slick a finger against her slit, drawing a quiet moan from her mouth.

“The walls are thin, people will hear,” Imogen mutters, which is what motivates you to stick your finger inside of her.

She bites onto the fabric of the massage bed as you begin to piston in and out of her, your single finger apparently enough to drive her wild. When you add a second, and then a third, you begin to feel her walls shiver in anticipation, her ass thrusting up into your fingers. You pull your sopping fingers out, getting a taste of her juices. The flavour is deep, musky, between sweet and salty.

“Why’d you stop?” she whispers.

“I felt inspired,” you whisper back, and then you pour the lavender oil across her ass, making sure a healthy amount drips down her crack and over her pussy.

“Shit, that’s cold,” Imogen hisses, and you take the chance to grope her ass some more, before sticking your fingers back in, continuing to finger-fuck her with delight.

Outside, you hear noises of students chatting, walking, and even the occasional grunts from those in the neighboring stalls, but all of it just makes this scene even hotter. Imogen squirms as your other hand reaches beneath her chest, getting a good feel of her tits, and then lets out a frighteningly audible moan as your fingers curl up and hit her g-spot.

“Don’t stop,” she moans into the bed, as you find just the spot again and again.

You feel her body tense, and then the she cums, her pussy quivering between your fingers, more of her nectar gushing out. As she quakes on the table, you unzip your pants, thinking this must be my chance to get inside her.

But it’s not to be, for just at that moment, the south Asian dude masseuse pulls open the curtain to your stall. You hurriedly pretend to be massaging Imogen’s back again, giving an innocent look as he glances at the two of you with narrowed eyes.

“We’re cleaning up and taking down the stalls now,” he says. “The two of you should get dressed and head out.”

You let out a sigh of relief as he shuts the curtain again, while Imogen rolls over on the bed, giving you a great view of her nude front.

“Such a pity that we were cut short,” she says with a pleased smile on her face. “Still, I must say, you are quite the accomplished masseuse.”

“Thank you,” you smile back at her, watching as she gets dressed. “You can return the favour by spreading the good word to your sisters in Theta.”

“Now why would I want to let them get a piece of this?” she asks, and then she shoos you out of the stall, but not before you get one final good glance at that marvellous ass of hers.

Imogen +25