by MP Frank
“I can tell you’ve never had a proper sports massage before,” he said. “There are some very interesting knots in here. Aren’t you grateful that I’m one finger short? Imagine how it would hurt if I had a full hand.”
“The other nine are quite enough for me, thank you,” Gaëlle said. “What happened to your hand, if you don’t mind me asking?
“I was working in a circus. I was practising juggling, showing off and using real knives for once, and there was a sudden gust of wind. I had six knives in the air. I caught five of them. The sixth caught me. So I left the circus and became a masseur.”
“The truth,” Madeleine interrupted, “is that his hand got caught in some farm machinery when he was a toddler. He changes the story every time he tells it.” She stuck her tongue out at her husband, who grinned in response.
Over the next thirty minutes, Gaëlle came to sympathise with the suffering of her predecessor on the massage table. Her groans were frequent and heartfelt as Jo’s steely fingers kneaded her calves and hamstrings into submission and into alignment. He moved to her back and worked his way up her spine to her neck.
“This is where I have to ask a question,” he said, as he finished manipulating Gaëlle’s head into what seemed to her to be impossible positions.
“Yes?”
“If you want me to work on the rest of you, I’ll do it, but it’s at your own risk. I don’t usually do ladies, so if I hurt you, that’s too bad. Is that all right?”
“I came for a full-body massage,” Gaëlle said. “I won’t complain, so long as whatever you do to me is as deep as you can go. Ignore me if I make noises.”
“Very well, then. I’ll do your gluteals first.”
“I’d rather not get oil on my knickers,” Gaëlle said, looking across at Madeleine. “Is it all right if I take them off?”
“Of course it is,” the other woman replied. “While you’re on that table, you’re just another body.” While Jo was occupied in oiling up his hands again, Gaëlle slipped her knickers down and off, then lay down again on her front. The subsequent minutes were both painful and invigorating, as Jo worked her buttocks. He discovered deeply-buried remnants of old small muscle tears, he told her as he broke them down. By the time he had finished, Gaëlle’s bottom was glowing pink and pleasantly warm. She was feeling more and more at ease, and her body was telling her that it was quite prepared to be turned on.
“Turn over on to your back, now.” Jo ordered her.
Gaëlle turned over. As she did so, she glanced down her body, contemplating the dark-blonde curls of her pubic hair. She had let it grow, since she’d been alone. How would she look if she shaved it all off again? Would she like the effect? It wasn’t the first time in recent weeks that the question had crossed her mind, the result of her meeting Gabi, perhaps? The idea heated her up and made her slightly damp. Jo, unaware of Gaëlle’s thoughts, draped the towel over her from the waist down and began to massage her neck from the front, then gradually worked down to her pectorals, which demanded that he touch her breasts. Her nipples hardened and rose. Jo didn’t seem to notice, but continued on down, digging deep into the major muscle groups of her sides and abdomen. The towel was moved up to cover her torso and Jo began to massage the front of Gaëlle’s thighs, oblivious of how close to her sex he was working.
“Your adductors are very stiff,” he told her. “Do you want me to deal with them?” To do that would mean his hands would be right up in Gaëlle’s groin. She grunted her consent. Jo bent her right leg and began to work his fingers in behind the adductors.
“Tight,” he grunted, as he stretched the offending muscle. “Especially at the insertion, just…here,” he said, his thumb pressing down, almost touching Gaëlle’s labia. She held her breath, half-hoping that he would touch her sex. She was turned on now, there was no avoiding that fact. Jo seemed unconscious of just how intimately he was massaging her, all his concentration focused on lessening the tension in the muscle. He lowered Gaëlle’s right leg and went to work on the left one. Inadvertently, the back of his hand brushed across her labia and she couldn’t restrain a whimper.
Madeleine’s voice broke in. “Do you know what a yoni massage is?”
“No idea,” Gaëlle murmured. “But if you think it would do me good, go ahead.”
“I think it would be beneficial for you. It can be quite an emotional experience, though.” Jo said.
“Anything, as long as you think it will do me good,” Gaëlle repeated.
Jo continued working on Gaëlle’s adductors while Madeleine drew the curtains. She lit several candles. An oriental perfume drifted across the room, which felt suddenly more intimate and cocoon-like. A pillow, wrapped in several thicknesses of towelling was positioned under Gaëlle’s hips. Jo arranged her with knees apart and soles of feet together, then tucked another folded towel between her legs. He spent a long time working what seemed to be unrelated points all over Gaëlle’s body, some on her neck, her shoulders, breasts and abdomen. He spent an age kneading her breasts. Gaëlle looked down at one point and was astonished how her nipples appeared. Jo seemed to have a gift for drawing them out. Even at her most excited, Gaëlle had never seen them so long. She lay back and let the pleasure continue.
“I’ve no idea what you’re doing, but it’s making me all floppy,” she mumbled. She didn’t disclose the erotic haze that was drifting across her entire being.
“That’s how it’s supposed to be,” Madeleine said. “It makes you ready for the next phase.” She had pulled an upright chair close to the massage bed and was sitting beside Gaëlle’s head.
“The Yoni massage means that I’m going to be massaging inside your vagina.” Jo said, as he poured a thin stream of oil over her belly and outer labia.
“Oh? Really? Mmm…that’s fine,” Gaëlle murmured, too relaxed to be shocked. Jo massaged around her outer labia first, working them gently between finger and thumb. Gaëlle could feel them swelling and becoming engorged. He parted her puffy outer lips and repeated his massage on the inner labia, pulling on them delicately and also stroking her clitoris. Gaëlle moaned again.
She felt him probe inside her, using a single finger. Then she felt herself being gently stretched. It felt good. Curious to see exactly what was happening to her, Gaëlle raised her head and glanced down the length of her body. She gasped. Jo’s missing little finger had made it possible for him to slide his entire hand inside her vagina. She tensed up.
“Relax,” Madeleine said, stroking her shoulders. “I know you’re thinking you can’t take it and you’re worried maybe that this isn’t normal, but don’t be afraid. Your body is ready to accept it.”
Gaëlle used all her experience of yoga to loosen her muscles and breathe deeply. Now, Jo was hooking his fingers up inside her, searching for something. She knew he’d found it when a burst of pleasure spread through her vagina and clitoris. She grunted.
“That’s your G spot,” Jo informed her. “I’m about to be fairly vigorous. Ready?”
“Yes.”
For over a minute, his fingers worked hard on the sensitive area inside her. Gaëlle was very conscious of indecorous slurping sounds coming from her dripping and oily vagina. She felt an orgasm building, and was unable to prevent herself from tensing up. Jo noticed, and stopped.
“Not yet,” he said. “In its own time. When the first release comes, it’s going to be very powerful, so don’t fight it.”
Gaëlle couldn’t help noticing that he looked at Madeleine as he spoke. She was about to ask why, when Jo went back to the internal massage. This time it lasted several minutes, before he judged his pause to perfection, an instant before Gaëlle felt she would explode.
“Please,” she begged. “Don’t stop. Do it. Let me come.”
“In a moment.”
This time Jo was relentless. His fingertips were working at the same place inside her more and more strongly. Just as Gaëlle thought she was going to faint, an almost unbearable rush of ecstasy engulfed her
. Her entire being was convulsing and shaking, even her arms and legs waving manically. It wasn’t just a powerful orgasm, it took over her whole body and mind. Through the euphoria, she was aware that she was in floods of tears, and she thought she’d lost control over her bladder. Now she understood why there was a thick wadding of towel beneath her, as she was spurting profusely. In the midst of it all, Madeleine was leaning over her, offering a soft, warm breast and its nipple to Gaëlle’s mouth. Gaëlle suckled, for comfort as much as for pleasure. She wept uncontrollably for what seemed like an age, until her limbs drooped, the spasms inside her vagina subsided and she was able to lie back and catch her breath. Jo smiled at her as he mopped her face.
“There was so much sorrow and loss in you, that was bound to happen,” he said. “This type of massage isn’t just sexual, it releases very deep emotions. You needed it,” Jo told her, as he cleared the soaked towels and pillow from the massage bed and wiped it dry.
“I feel—How do I feel?” Gaëlle said. “I’m relieved of something. I feel light, as if I’ve lost a load of weight.”
“You have, but it’s weight measured in emotion rather than kilos,” Madeleine said, as she tucked her breasts back into her bra and buttoned her shirt. “And what I did for you was part of the consoling that you needed, too.”
“The next one will be less draining and more pleasurable,” Jo said, picking up a dry pillow.
“Next one? Right now? I don’t think that’s possible!” Gaëlle exclaimed, although she obediently raised her hips to accommodate the pillow.
“You’ll see.” Madeleine said, with a little smile.
“Are you…Will you…take part in this one, too? Gaëlle asked Madeleine.
“Would you like me to?” Madeleine asked.
“I’d love to do something for you while I’m having so much pleasure,” Gaëlle confessed.
“What would you like to do?” Madeleine asked.
“Will you let me caress you?”
“I suspect you’ll be too busy coming yourself to do anything for me,” Madeleine said. “But thank you for the offer.”
Gaëlle thought for a moment. She looked up at Madeleine and said, “It can be done. Will you take your skirt and top off for me?”
Madeleine seemed happy to unfasten her skirt, fold it and set it to one side, then she unbuttoned her shirt and slipped it off. She unclipped her bra, freeing plump breasts. Gaëlle was glad she had a chance to look at the older woman’s body. Madeleine’s skin was not as toned as her own, but the body Gaëlle was examining was well-maintained, that was clear. A closer look also revealed a gold ring through Madeleine’s left nipple.
“I may as well get rid of these, too,” Madeleine said, pulling her white knickers off. Her pubic hair had been reduced to a narrow vertical strip. The nipple ring and depilated labia, on a woman a decade older than herself, brought it home to Gaëlle that sex was absolutely not an age-restricted interest. She realized with an electric burst of joy that she had plenty of time to engage in some more erotic exploration,
“You look lovely, Madeleine. Can you turn the chair round, so its back is nearer to me?” Gaëlle asked. “Good. Now stand between me and it, with your legs apart.”
When Madeleine was in position, Gaëlle reached out with her right arm between Madeleine’s thighs and took a firm grip on the chair back. “This wouldn’t work if you were my height,” Gaëlle commented to Madeleine, who hardly needed to bend her knees to bring her sex into contact with Gaëlle’s forearm. “You can ride my arm and I won’t have to do a thing.”
Madeleine nodded to Jo, who went back to work inside Gaëlle. To her astonishment, her body had no difficulty in responding. Madeleine’s sex was sopping wet, and squelched to and fro on Gaëlle’s arm. The older woman’s grunts of pleasure grew in intensity and frequency, until at length she trembled and came. She leaned over Gaëlle, offering her right nipple again to be suckled. Gaëlle was happy to oblige. Jo carried on, pausing every time that Gaëlle felt she was close. She accepted the stages of the build-up this time, knowing that they would intensify the eventual earthquake when she came.
“Now. Now. Oh, please, Now!” Gaëlle cried out at last. She convulsed in a huge orgasm, which sent multiple waves of pleasure from the tips of her toes to the skin of her scalp. It was as powerful as the first, and as protracted, but this time it was pure delight, and when it subsided, Gaëlle sat up with a new sparkle in her eyes.
“Whoa! That was unbelievably good! Thank you, both of you!”
“Your husband shared our philosophy, which says that you get what you need when you need it, Gaëlle,” Madeleine assured her, as both women were putting their clothes back on. “Come back any time you want, we’ll always make a space for you. We’ve been waiting for you for almost a year. Jérôme was sure you’d find us.”
“He knew me only too well,” Gaëlle said, able now to smile about it. “Can I make a regular booking with you? I’d like to come once a week…Only for a massage, though! I don’t think that a session like this every seven days would be helpful for me. I’d be no good for anything else!”
“Same time next week, then,” Jo said. “You can have the slot after Oelipalo again.”
“Who?”
“Oelipalo, the Tongan, the rugby player. After I’ve dealt with him, it will be good to massage someone a little less muscley,” Jo explained. “So you will be just fine.”
Madeleine and Jo left Gaëlle to compose herself for several minutes, after which she dressed herself and prepared to go home. She paid, a ridiculously small sum it seemed to her for what she had received, but she sensed that to offer more would be seen as an insult. In her renewed state of mind and body, she couldn’t face sharing a bus with dozens of strangers, so she used her mobile phone to call a taxi to collect her.
From Gaëlle’s Journal
In the taxi coming home, I nearly dozed off, just as Jérôme used to! It’s wonderful to realize that he had anticipated I’d need to go and see Jo and Madeleine. Typical of him, too, that he left Jo’s phone number somewhere I’d find it, but only if I made the effort to look. I’m glad they didn’t tell me until afterwards, though. Otherwise, I’d have been thinking of him all through the massage. I’m sure I’ll go again; the orgasms were out of this world. I thought I’d experienced the biggest ones possible with Jérôme, but it seems not. I still have things to learn about my body!
PS I must remember to ask next time what they used to do for Jérôme!
PPS I was nearly tempted into shaving my pubic hair in the shower when I got home. Seeing Madeleine reminded me of how I used to look, bare and exposed. It was lovely to feel her bare labia sliding on my arm, too, my first real sex in over a year. She seemed to enjoy it very much. It made me conscious that I was the one who used to look and feel like that and I miss it. I wonder if it would shock the gang if I went bare again.
Chapter Fourteen
Gaëlle settled herself on the sofa, her usual place for reflection. In re-reading the start of her life with Jérôme, she’d found an expression that she liked. She’d written back then that she intended to be an erotic explorer. What had happened with Jo and Madeleine had convinced her she was now ready to resume that rôle. She paused for a moment.
Where to begin? Although she’d started to recount her erotic experiences to Gabi, she didn’t want to complicate matters by discussing future sexual possibilities with her. Gabi might take it as an invitation, and Gaëlle wasn’t at that point, not yet, anyway. She needed a more objective, and possibly a more mature listener. The obvious candidates were the other members of the gang. But which one? She couldn’t see herself explaining her thoughts and intentions to the group en masse.
She eliminated Alice without further consideration. Alice was quite prudish in her attitudes to sex. When the gang had been out to dinner together, Gaëlle had noticed Alice’s pursed lips when Mercedes told one of her more off-colour jokes. Gaëlle was very fond of Alice, but as a confidante on sexual matters, sh
e was a non-starter.
Just because Mercedes had her bras made to measure, was it fair for Gaëlle to assume that Mercedes had a special interest in sex? Or just that she was fussy? It was Mercedes who’d been dragooned into helping Jérôme, when he’d had the special bra made for Gaëlle. Mercedes had even tried the bra on. But it was Jérôme who’d told Gaëlle about that, not Mercedes, who’d never said a word. She was fun, but was she the right person for a serious discussion that could well drift into unconventional sexual areas? Probably not, Gaëlle concluded.
How about Béatrice, then, the group’s Swiss Miss? Determinedly climbing the corporate ladder at the lawyers’ where she worked, Béatrice was seven years younger than Gaëlle and had never been married. Gaëlle had seen her with a succession of attractive men, but she could all too easily imagine Béatrice, the morning after, conscientiously filing scores for endurance, content and style in her diary. Would Béatrice understand Gaëlle’s needs? Possibly, but far from definitely.
Leila was more of a possibility. She was eminently sensible as well as intelligent and understanding. However, the amount of time and effort she had to put into dealing with her Alzheimer-affected mother meant that Gaëlle didn’t think it would be fair to burden her with the intimate details of another complicated life.
That left Maya, a frequent, but not obsessive visitor to the gym where the gang usually met. Gaëlle sat back, deep in thought. Maya, so proud of both her Greek and Norse descent. Her black, flashing eyes, aquiline nose and golden-brown skin were pure Mediterranean, but her height, at half a head taller than Gaëlle, had to be a legacy of the Viking ancestors of her mother. She had a remarkable body, bearing in mind she’d had her twin girls at the age of thirty. A good mother, also, that much was evident from seeing her with them. Professionally, Gaëlle would have wagered there was no nonsense in the Collège where Maya occupied the Directrice’s office. An intelligent woman, unafraid to speak her mind. Gaëlle had a lot of respect for Maya.