Did I get the hots for my Masseuse?

It has been a while. Sit down, it is so nice to see you again. Yes, I know, too much time has gone by.
Yes, I remember writing about sex, liked my advice? Or the stories?
Good. I am glad you did.

Well, I was not able to keep that going? What not? Ah, the thing of being still this honorable guy, finding ways to incorporate some level of sex in my life outside of my marriage and still do it in such a way I would not feel guilty.

I failed miserably.

Oh, the marriage is fine. Better than it always has been. The sex still is most present by its absence and as I posted in my previous postings, over a year ago, is that I found a lot of release in the massages that provided me a happy ending. Actually, I shared this also with my wife, who actually did not mind. As long as it happened by hand, she saw it very much as a solution as well.
Keep in mind, as a refresher, we both knew very well that the void that existed in our sex life for my wife's medical reasons, had to be taken care of in some way to release that stress. And these massages seemed to be a wonderful solution to the problem. And they were.

One day, at the end of last year, I ended up with a problem at work; I sprained something in my back, and it hurt like hell. It was not something massive, but my left shoulder was all but working painlessly. But my regular legit massage place had a fully booked day. But, they mentioned, they also had a chain store actually close to my work. So I called them. And they would check what they could provide, as they had someone quit her job that morning, so they had a problem in their planning. They would call me back.
Ten minutes later I got that promised call. They could not take care of it, but, the masseuse that quit also had her own side-business, and she would take care of it if I wanted to based on the credit I had with the chain itself, and they would cover the costs out of my account. The only issue, I had to drive to her place which was in downtown Philly. I got her information, called her up, and she was nice and sounded proper, and would take care of me that evening.

When I arrived at the place, I wished that I had not. That was not downtown Philly, that was down and scary Philly. She was waiting on the front-porch, to help me get in. As it seemed to be, she did not have a side-business, but needed the money and planned to move back to Nevada. And she lived in with this family that clearly had money to spend on buying dope than spend on their kids.
The girl itself was a very nice, polite, and very talkative woman, blonde, semi-attractive but against better judgment I walked in. She guided me to her room upstairs and told me to undress and lay down on the table.

As appearances could deceive, she gave an absolutely amazing massage. Firm, but not too painful, and it helped. She could not walk around the table she had set up, so she stood on other furniture to actually get to me. And she kept talking, yap yap yap, but I cannot deny, the massage was great. Period. A solid legit massage and she put my shoulder back into working condition. During which I heard her life story, not a sobbing story, but one of a woman who knew she made all the wrong decisions, and now had to deal with the consequences, and she was. I liked her. Honestly liked her. Not my type of woman, but she was a strong, honest woman not taking shit from life.

I got dressed, she gave me a hug, and I was on my way.

And she was on my mind. Not in a sexual or romantic way. But I genuinely liked her, and with the holiday season coming up asked her that I would like to plan another massage before she would move out to Nevada, and that I would not mind paying her in advanced. She was happy, and send me her PayPal information to get her the $70 for the hour long massage.
Fuck it. She had two sons, I had seen where they lived and I had some extra left, so sent her some more and told her to spend it on some gifts for the holidays.

Two weeks later we had the massage planned, now in a hotel near my work as she stayed their until their trip a day later. She welcomed me excitedly. Told me how much I helped out and that she appreciated it so much and not ask for anything. She had me lay down on the table, and now she could walk around it, and massaged me. My back again done so perfectly. I honestly wished she still worked, because it is hard to find a masseuse that does everything right.
I turned over after I completely lost track of time, listening to her constant talking. I really liked her, her massage was perfect, but the talking. Opening my eyes I noticed that her jeans had gone and she was massaging me with her bra and panties on. I looked, but did not actually talk about it.
I heard more about the misery of her past. But again, not in a whiney way, a 'feel sorry for me' way, but literally like 'I have gone through that, I can beat anything'. A fire, and 3rd degree burns on her body.

What?
I had not seen these when I looked at her.
I told her so.

"Oh, absolutely", and she un-clipped her bra, and showed me a barely noticeable, but definitely a scar on her right breast.  Of course I had difficulties focusing on the scar. It looked almost like discolored skin than scar tissue.
"My body handles scars really well.", she said. Looking at it herself. "Touch it. You will feel it is really soft, and not thick as it usually is with people."

Fuck. She did ask it? Who am I to ignore it. And I touched her skin just above her aureola. It indeed felt like normal skin.

"Third degree?" I asked. I have seen scar tissue a lot before, and my wife being an MD had a lot of material about it as well. And never was a major scar almost so very well blended in the normal skin as it was with her.

"Don't believe me? I had both my boys with a c-section, and take a look." she said, and she pulled her panties a little bit down, not enough to see things that really started to interest me, but - well - what do you know. There was clearly the mark of a c-section, also discolored, but not the slightest bump.
I did ask softly, more because my throat dried up than anything else, if I could touch it.
"Sure", she said, got my hand and rubbed my fingertips over the scar but the panties snapped back over it.
"Wait". She pulled down her panties, stepped out of them, and placed my fingertips against it again. "See?".

By that time of course I had no interest in that piece of scar anymore. "Can I... touch it?" She looked at me with a smile, stood with her legs slightly further apart and said "Sure you can."

As I had my hands between her thighs, my fingers feeling the moist edge of her lips, it just all felt so weird. She continued massaging me, and nothing sexual about the way she touched me. Which could not be said about me. And she kept talking, even as a finger slid inside of her, and I felt how easily that insertion took place.
At one moment she stopped, looked at me, smiled and then softly touched me. Lotion was unnecessary; I have quite a lot of pre-cum. She gently played with me as my hands discovered all of her body.
Were my experiences with the other masseuse that once the soft touch starts it is ending pretty soon, this woman took her sweet time. Talked, giggled, massaged a bit regularly and then went back to her business pleasing me.

I asked her if I could maybe, please, lick her. And she told me I could not, those were services that she did not provide. I said I understood. I did, but my body did not.
It took actually an additional 30 minutes before she brought me to my climax.
She told me to keep laying down as she cleaned me up, then pointed me to the bathroom for a shower or a bath. I did, and as I came out, she came to me, still naked, hugged me, gave me a kiss on the cheek and told me that she loved it that I did not push myself on her and that she enjoyed my company. If it was real or not, maybe related to the elevated pre-payment did not matter, she honestly gave me a wonderful feeling. Besides giving me an awesome massage, an incredible sexual experience, she actually made me happy.

When I walked out I noticed that she has massaged me for almost 4 hours.

Sadly enough, like said, she moved back to Nevada. I actually still email with her, and she keeps me up to date how she is doing, how life is treating her, and sometimes those emails are very happy, sometimes heart breaking, but they still feel very honest.

(No, the photos don't show my masseuse, although she looked like her. I thank teentugs very much for letting me - eh - borrow - the photos :) )