Forbidden Hearts' Silent Plea

“Did anything happen?”

That was the question M asked me upon my confession of what happened at my massage.

“Noooo… It was close, but no.”

Earlier in the day, I’d had a massage done by someone whom I’ve gone to before. Janine is a lovely woman with whom I enjoyed speaking. On the recommendation of a friend, I had given her services a try and had gone to her perhaps a dozen times now. She always did a good job. I was 52 and she was 39 at the time, both of us married.

I’ll admit to you right now that during the two visits previous to this one, there were signs of something happening which I ignored. To be quite honest, I actually played with the idea of it. But this time there was no doubt about it.

I had become quite comfortable with Janine, and little by little, the necessity of covering particular areas passed. It wasn’t unusual for me to strip out of my clothes as the two of us stood there talking.

It started as usual, with me lying on my stomach naked, Janine in her usual pair of loose-fitting scrub pants and a tee. She has a lovely body; I noticed that the very first time I met her. And her cute, round face framed by long, auburn hair invited friendliness. The T-shirts never seemed to be able to hide her narrow waist or sumptuous breasts. And my noticing all of this comes from my acknowledgment that I do find females attractive and notice things about them. (If we are honest, all females will find certain things attractive about another, whether her appearance, demeanor or intelligence.)

As I lay on the massage table like always, she began to apply the massage oil and squeeze and rub my shoulders, gently lifting my hair and pushing it off to the side for access to my neck. Her fingertips drew along the muscle structures and rubbed and squeezed, with all the pushes and pulls that came with it.

I had noticed before that when she would get down around waist level and begin working my buttocks, her thumbs would sometimes slide down in between the cheeks and her fingertips draw up back between. The same thing happened whenever she worked the backs of my thighs. In fact, I even remember having an involuntary rise of my hips and a grinding of my pelvis down at some points.

As I lay there with my eyes closed and we continued to chat, I could feel her strong but sensitive touch travel over my body. After the last two sessions, I again have to admit my mind was drifting in the hopes that I would feel that same thing from her…

And I did!!

Now things can happen by accident. We’ve probably all experienced that; an accidental bump or touch and the awkward and embarrassing apology, or at least the attempt to ignore that it happened. And I think part of me was giving her the benefit of the doubt.

As she worked her way down my back, facing away from me, I felt her hands begin to slide around the circumference of my behind, gently squeezing and massaging. And again, there were the thumbs pushing down deep into the crevice between my cheeks and, upon the return, her fingertips following that same pathway. At times I would feel my cheeks spread wide apart, exposing my anus to her.

She made her way down my thighs and calves all the way to my feet. Standing at the end of the table, she picked up one foot and massaged it—which felt amazing, by the way. But then she did something unusual: she laid it against her body. My foot was upright, and I felt something soft under the top of it. My foot was lying between her breasts, and as her hands went down my thigh, I could feel her breasts engulfing my foot. It seemed strange, but at the same time, she’s a masseuse.

I also noticed her body pressing against the foot which still lay down on the table—at first, just the soft touch of fabric, and then the definite touch of her warm body underneath.

It wasn’t as if she was grinding on my foot. But I knew what it was that was on my foot.

She repeated the process with the other foot before putting that one back on the massage table, gently moving my feet and parting them, thus spreading my legs so much that my feet were hanging off both sides. She began to massage her way back up my legs very slowly and sensuously, sliding her well-oiled fingers down from her place at the base of the table up over the backs of my calves and thighs, reaching my buttocks and then turning her fingers inward to slide down the insides of my thighs and calves.

As she repeated the process, her fingertips started to graze my vulva.

This time, there was no mistaking the intent. The tingles shot through me. And I said nothing.

It went on for a while.

Let me stop here to say I am not a lesbian. As I have stated before, I can appreciate things that I admire in a woman. But this definitely was pulling me in, with the seemingly incidental touches causing arousal.

She had me roll over on my back and started on the front.

Her hands began to massage over my breasts—something she had never done before. She always went around the sides and tops and bottoms of them. It was then that I knew I needed to say something and get myself out of this situation before something did happen.

I asked her what time it was, and she told me. I pretended that I had an appointment I forgot about and that I had to go.

She was disappointed. I paid her and left, but I couldn’t get the whole episode out of my mind.

What you have just read was what I had shared with M.

His attention grew more acute with every sentence that came out of my mouth.

I know he sensed something in me, and in his usual sexually opportunistic way, he was trying to draw it out of me.

And the next sentence confirmed what he was sensing.

I confessed to him that when I got home, I had masturbated while reimagining it, brought myself to a climax, got myself together, and an hour later found myself mentally back there again, bringing myself to another climax.

I was dealing with such a whirlwind of feelings and thoughts. I felt an intense attraction to Janine and wanted to meet her again where we could follow through. I was pacing back and forth and knew I couldn’t do that. It was a definite war within myself and my thoughts.

The decision was not to go back again and just to let bygones be bygones.

But to my point: this is how it happens to us. Something happens that turns on the switch to an area where we are already weakened.

Another problem was that Janine knew my faith and even empathized with it, as if she held a lot of the same feelings, which served to soften my defenses.

Temptation is what gives way to sin. Instead of allowing it to control us, we need to control it. One way we often try to exercise control is by throwing out the baby with the bath water; getting rid of the good along with the bad. The problem with that is that it’s like ignoring the elephant in the room, and not addressing the actual cause.

M and I have come to deal with such things in this way: our sexual honesty with one another. Just being able to tell him what was going on, and the things that I was feeling, brought it into the open for both of us to deal with together.

And like many other things that had happened in our lives, this became just one more memory.

We are given the gift of sexuality. There’s a reason why we enjoy it. It’s built in. But problems come in when sex goes from being a gift to a demand in our lives, pulling us deeper and deeper and pushing the borders of acceptability farther and farther.

M and I have a marvelous sex life. It hasn’t always been so, but in the later years of our life, it definitely is.

Yes, there have been times since then that I have sat somewhere quiet and imagined myself on that massage table. But I am harkened back to my faith and my responsibility. My sexual pleasure is to come from my spouse.

And between the two of us, we have explored some pretty amazing things that we would have never even thought of doing earlier in our marriage.

Did you like this story? Forbidden Hearts' Silent Plea look, but like these, here Story taboo sex.