Summer Solstice Massage

Veronica Loren
15 mins read
Published about 1 year ago

After eight months of flirting with each other, Pedro finally fucked me real good after my class last night.

Yeah, I’m a naughty yoga teacher, but after my last disappointing lover, I was in dire need of a man who wasn’t afraid to ravage my body so I could transcend to a more tangible kind of nirvana.

And being the good student that he is, oh boy, did Pedro rise to the occasion… four times, in fact.

Oh, namaste, Pedro. Namaste.

This morning’s final fuck against the hallway wall sealed my “hot mess” status for the rest of the day. I can’t recall the last time I had so many orgasms, if ever. The oxytocin and endorphin high has made it almost impossible to get anything done today. Admitting defeat, I reluctantly cancel my plans to go to the sunset yoga event to celebrate the summer solstice. I’ve done more than enough deep “hip openers” in the last 24 hours.

Instead, I book myself in for a massage with Ana, my favorite masseuse, to iron out some of my muscular kinks from last night’s surplus of kink. 

A notification lights up my phone. My Uber driver is getting impatient. 

I quickly pull my tiny black lacy G-string up under my dress, the best option I can find after my last-minute rummage to find clean underwear. 

Oh well, nothing Ana hasn’t seen before, I tell myself as I rush out the door.

From the back of the car, I fall back into the dreamy state that’s rendered me useless all day and start to retrace last night’s steamy steps.

Despite taking so many months to summon the courage to ask me out, Pedro sure made up for lost time by pulling me in for a passionate kiss within minutes of us going for a drink.

It didn’t take him long to make his next move either. 

After our second caipirinha, he nuzzled up to me and said, “You’re a great kisser. I had a feeling you’d be.”

“Thanks, handsome. I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” I confessed.

“Hmmm, so I have a theory,” he said looking me straight in the eyes. “I think a kiss reveals about 87% of what a person will be like in bed.”

“Haha, interesting theory,” I said, before pulling him in for another kiss. As our lips slowly parted, I playfully asked, “What about the other 13%?”

“There’s only one way to find out. Your place or mine?”

The walk back to my apartment took longer than it should have because we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. Every few minutes we pushed each other up against walls, windows, doors or anything that would support us in our clumsy and desperate attempts to steal another kiss. 

As we turned down the cobblestone alleyway close to my house, I jumped into Pedro’s strong, tattooed arms and wrapped my legs around his waist. He pinned me up against the glass doors of a closed restaurant and nearly started to fuck me there and then. Until someone surprised us by banging violently in disgust on the opposite side of the glass.

“Umm, we’re here,” says the Uber driver, his voice causing me to hit the pause button on last night’s fuck-tacular flashbacks and return to reality.

It’s not until I meet the driver’s eyes in the rear-view mirror that I realize that he’s been waiting a while for me to get out of the car. And judging by his expression, he’s been enjoying my sexed-up smile.

I promptly take my cue, get my bearings and enter the tranquility of the spa.

“Hi, my name is Sofia, I’ve got a massage booked with Ana for 7pm.”  

“Oh hello, I’ve actually been trying to call you,” says the female receptionist. “Unfortunately Ana is unwell today and had to leave shortly after you booked her, but one of our other therapists was able to squeeze you in, I hope this okay?”

“Ah sure, no problem.”  

“Great, let me introduce you to your masseuse, Henrique,” she says as she ushers me to the back room. 


The young man greets me at the private room. He has the typical dark Portuguese features and is wearing a white cotton T-shirt, accentuating his toned biceps and his olive skin that’s been bronzed to perfection by the long, hot summer. 

His handsome face still bears the scars of acne from his not-so-distant adolescence. He looks like he could be around 22, but on the other hand, his jawline has all the makings of a man. 

“Hi, Sofia, nice to meet you,” says Henrique with a warm smile. “I’ll give you a few minutes to get undressed. Please take everything off except for your underwear and then lie on your stomach. There is a towel on the table to cover yourself with. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” 

I follow his instructions, cursing myself for not wearing more appropriate underwear, especially given it’s my ass and thighs that need the most attention.

“Are you ready, Sofia?” Henrique says softly through the door.

“Ah, yeah, I’m ready,” I reply, somewhat reluctantly.

Henrique enters the tiny massage room, greeting me again with his big smile.

“So, any area you’d like me to focus on?”

“Umm, yes. I’m a yoga teacher, and I think I have overextended my glutes,” I explain, keeping an air of professionalism to my tone. "They’re really tight and there’s now a pain running down the back of my thighs.”

“Right, I see. So where in your glutes? Do you mind showing me the exact spot?”

“Sure, ummm, so this is a little embarrassing, it’s in quite an intimate area,” I say as gingerly as I can as I remove the towel that’s covering my ass.

“It’s right at the top here,” I say while opening my legs a little so I can point to the origin of my muscle pain, which just so happens to be on the inside of my butt cheek, in between my pussy and ass. “And then the pain runs down the back of my legs, ending just above my knees.”

Now it’s Henrique’s turn to remain professional. After a long pause, he eventually responds with, “Okay, ummm, well, let’s see if we can have you feeling better.”

With everything being laid bare — almost literally — I place my face down on the table in surrender and tell myself to relax as Henrique rubs oil down the backs of my overexerted thighs.

Despite his youth, his technique is impressive. Hard, nuanced and in tune with what my body needs. After a few minutes, I completely relax into his skilled strokes and I'm almost happy that Ana wasn’t available – as good as she is, her hands just aren’t as strong as Henrique’s.

Oh god, this feels really good. 

As Henrique’s warm hands work their way further up my thighs, he instructs me to open my legs slowly so he can get closer to the source of my pain.

When his firm strokes hit a really tight spot, I tense up and let out an, “Oh, that’s it,” doing my best not to sound too sexual, which is not easy, given how sensual this situation has become.

“Inhale and exhale deeply," he says with an authoritative tone as he adjusts his pressure. “Breathe into the discomfort.”

Cautious not to hurt me given my petite frame, he checks in with me when he’s about to apply more pressure.

“No worries,” I say. “I used to live in Thailand, so I got used to really strong massages. I actually enjoy the pain.” 

“Ah, really? Yeah, I really like it rough, I mean hard, too,” he stammers.

And with that clumsy exchange, we go back to silence, but an unmistakable air of arousal now lingers in the room.

Inch by inch, his hands get closer to the source of my pain – which is clearly in a very hard-to-reach and awkward spot. 

“I’m sorry to ask, but can you open your legs even wider, it’s difficult for me to reach as it’s, uh... pretty deep there,” Henrique says, with some hesitation.

“Is this wide enough?” I respond, my legs now as wide as the table, I’m certain that my tiny black G-string is leaving very little to the imagination.

“That’s perfect.” He pauses though and clears his throat. "Um, I’m sorry. For being so close to your private parts. I can stop or see if we have a female masseuse available now to take over if you’re feeling uncomfortable?”

“My muscle pain is in a rather intimate area,” I say, with a nervous laugh. “But really, don’t worry – please, just do whatever you have to.”

Ooops, did I just blurt that out?

“I’ll do my best,” he says, the authority in his voice waning. “Please turn over, I’d like to come at it from a different angle.” 

I roll over to my back. When I reposition the towel to cover my breasts, our eyes meet for a few seconds longer than what’s appropriate in this kind of situation and the energy in the room shifts… My attention promptly turns to the seductive little vixen that got me into this hot mess in the first place: my warm, pulsating pussy. 

“Please bend your right leg and draw it towards your chest,” Henrique says, with flushed cheeks.

Turning his attention to the job at hand, he runs his hand up and down the inside of my thigh, from my knee joint to the problem area near my pussy and back again. Over and over with enthusiastic, professional vigor while the warm oil trickles down to my pussy. I do my best to stay poker-faced and remind myself of what I instruct my yoga students to do, what Henrique reminded me to do: focus on the breath.

But given all the oil and his speedy technique sliding within inches of my now aching pussy, his hand overshoots my slippery runway and ends up between my legs. 

“Ohhh, ummm, I’m so sorry,” he says, with some sincerity.

I let out a shy laugh in acknowledgment, and say, “It’s okay,” as I look him in the eye.

He holds my gaze to gauge my expression, I do nothing to conceal how turned on I am.

Reassured by how unabashed I am, he resumes his technique, going from knee to the top of my inner thigh and back again, but eventually, he adds in an exaggerated stroke between my legs.

“How about this, is this still comfortable for you?” 

“Yes,” is all I can mutter between deep breaths.

Again, he strokes the outside of my G-string with his hand, but lingers longer this time, pressing against my clit.

“And what about this, is this comfortable for you?”

Objectively, I probably wouldn’t fuck him under usual circumstances, he was still wearing nappies when I was in high school… Plus, I remember what sex with guys in their early 20s can be like.

But as I look up at his acne-scarred face, his eyes are almost doing somersaults in the back of his head, the awe on this puppy dog’s face is turning me on… big time.

And more to the point, I have always fantasized about this… for a really long time. Even when a female masseuse has gotten close to my pussy by accident, I’ve wondered whether I would stop her if she dared to go further. 

The hard pressure, exaggerated sensual strokes, the oil, the attention all on me – when done right, it opens me right up and sensitizes my erogenous zones, making them oh-so-hot to the touch.

“Yes, it’s very comfortable,” I moan, doing nothing to conceal my excitement now.

And with that, he slowly slides a finger inside my wet pussy. 

The build-up. The unexpected turn of events. The fact that someone could hear our muffled moans penetrating the thin walls. All of it. Despite being sore from Pedro fucking my brains out last night, the young pup’s finger feels like it’s pulsating with pure pussy magic.

When he slides a second one in I have to put my hand over my mouth to stop my screams from escaping the confines of the small room.

He stops to turn on the loud fan in the corner of the room, an attempt to muffle my response to his off-the-menu pressure point technique.

“Can I lick your pussy?” he whispers in excitement while standing at the end of the table.

“Yesss,” I purr. 

He grabs hold of my ankles, pulls my body closer to his and lowers his head. I grab his hair and guide his tongue to my clit as his eager eyes look into mine.

I can’t actually believe this happening. My mouth echoes my exhilaration by releasing sounds like I’ve just taken my first descent down a rollercoaster and I have lost control of my vocal cords.

To silence me, he places his free hand over my mouth. This causes me to take my second rapturous descent.

And here I was thinking I would miss out on some kind of spiritual experience tonight by not going to the summer solstice yoga event on the beach!

But suddenly, the young puppy halts our otherworldly descent and I can hear frustrated sighs coming from the end of the table.

Confused by the commotion, I look up and he’s wrestling with the string on his fisherman’s pants, the kind masseuses wear in Asia too. He finally wins the battle and yanks them down with his underwear.

“Please!” he begs in desperation while positioning himself by the side of the table. “Touch me!” 

Lying on my back, with my legs butterflied open, I reach out for his hard cock and start wanking it while looking into his big brown eyes so he can join me on the heavenly other side. 

“Do you have any condoms?” he says.

“No, I don’t… do you?” I ask, my voice riddled with hope. He starts rubbing his cock against my pussy. I want him inside of me so badly. 

“No, I don’t! I don’t care, I want to fuck you anyway.” I let out a sigh like the greatest injustice ever has just been bestowed upon my precious pussy.

Dutifully, I sit up on the table, wrap my legs around him and look into his excited eyes. 

“Baby. I can’t fuck you without a condom.”

He responds with the most endearing puppy dog eyes, I almost relent and give him a bone

But being the professional that he is – after all, the customer is always right – he accepts defeat and pushes two fingers inside my pussy instead, and I lie back down to enjoy the rest of my “massage.”

“Do you want to suck my cock?” he asks while his hand is banging against my wet pussy. He has moved to the side of the table. Out of the periphery of my eye, I can see his eager cock get closer to the side of my face. I think about it for a moment. Yes, I want to be fucked, but we have no condoms. And this is my massage… I’m paying for it. 

Plus, I sucked Pedro’s cock a lot last night and I haven’t really slept.

I silently and proudly declare to myself, No, I want it to be all about me this time.

“Oh, baby, I really want you to keep doing exactly what you’re doing, it just feels soooo good,” I say, layering the seduction on thick.

Unperturbed by the handjob consolation prize, he resumes with equal vigor, and after a few more hard wanks he declares, “I’m cumming, quick, where can I do it?” 

“My tits!” I respond in equal haste.

The force of his climax sends a final wave of shock and exhilaration across his face before spraying cum over my milky white chest. 

It takes him a few moments to catch his breath and return to reality. After the last bits of warm cum trickle down the sides of my breasts, he eventually sits down next to me and blurts out in amazement, “That’s never happened before, I swear.”

“Yeah, can’t say I’ve ever done that before, either.”

“I’m really sorry, but you’re just so hot, and your underwear didn’t really cover much. I couldn’t help myself.”

“I was worried about that,” I confess with a laugh.

“I could get in a lot of trouble for this… I could get fired,” he says, his words matching the wave of panic washing suddenly over his face.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell your boss. I promise…” I say in earnest. “Full disclosure, it’s actually always been a fantasy of mine, so really, no stress, baby.”

Relieved, he watches me as I get dressed. I sense he wants to ask for my number, but when he comments on my Australian accent, I don’t correct him when he assumes that I’m just visiting Portugal.

As soon as we exit the room, he switches back into full professional mode, asking if I’d like ginger or jasmine tea as he hands me my shoes.

I decline. After all that, there’s no way I can calmly sip tea while seated in the reception listening to the soothing sounds of waterfalls on repeat. I need a less peaceful place to process my thoughts, such as the packed pavement outside where I can squeal in delight as I relay the dirty details in a WhatsApp vocal message to my best friend on the other side of the world.

After he escorts me to the front desk, the female receptionist from before asks how my massage was.

I look up at Henrique, who is suddenly looking very anxious again, and say, “Oh it was wonderful, it took a while, but he really hit the spot.”

“That’s great to hear, that’ll be 50 euros, please.”

Eager to wrap this erotic fantasy up before my expression stirs suspicion, I promptly hand over a 50 euro note and say goodbye, forgetting to tip in the process.

But as I walk down the street, my cheeky smile beaming up at the summer solstice moon, I conclude that the dried cum between my tits was a generous bonus he won’t be forgetting anytime soon.

Written by
Veronica Loren

Veronica Loren is a mischievous writer, yogi, and traveler with a penchant for wild times, both real and imaginary.