There is a storm brewing on Manhattan’s Upper East Side, and an increasing number of women are planning to get very, very drenched. The storm’s name is Tomaso and he has come all the way from Italy to wreak his moist carnage. Tomaso is a masseur of a very special kind.
The Storm Approaches
I was introduced to him through a friend when we were discussing her impending divorce.
“He’s a gift. A session with him makes me want to absolutely lose control and just cum like never before, wherever I may be!” laughs Ellen.
I laugh but I can’t help but feel that she might have been taken advantage of. After all, a man touching a woman inappropriately during a massage…
“There’s nothing inappropriate about it,” says Ellen, “You are in complete control, you dictate what you want, and he does that and only that.”
Clearly, Ellen’s personal experiences are clouding her judgement. I shall have to put my body on the line, do my bit for science and swallow the bullet. Or is it bite the bullet? Whatever.
The Storm Arrives
An appointment is made, and the man with the reputation that precedes him appears. I am almost disappointed that he looks every bit as perfect as Ellen described. It is going it so much harder to disprove her.
He carries the massive folding massage like it was a toothpick, arm muscles all rippling irritatingly. Ellen smirks at my disapproving approval and glides out after exchanging a smile with the godlike version of manliness in front of me, who then looks my way with his blue eyes.
Tomaso is impossible to dislike. As he soothes the kinks out of my back, he tells me about his:
- dad’s boat.
The very tip of his fingertips occasionally wander under the towel laid across my buttocks but it is all PG.
His work on my thighs, gently kneading, pushing, teasing is having the same effect on me it had on Ellen. The strong fingers are pressing into my inner thigh, just under my buttocks and inching closer…
“No ‘extra attention’?” he asks, gently.
I actually waited for a few seconds before an almost reluctant ‘No’ slipped out from between my lips. Tomaso carried on with the massage and we chatted like before.
It was the best massage I have ever had.
Afterwards, Ellen tells me I have to go all the way next time. I tell her I think she’s right – I am ready to get drenched in the storm.