Posted: 2015-10-01 19:50:30
Edited: 2015-10-01 19:51:14
Lindsey is now fast becoming a fixture in my schedule. Which is nice on the one hand and frustrating on the other. Nice to look forward to a visit, and frustrating when you leave, get in the car, and realise that a couple of days will pass again before you can see her again.
Need to tell her about the 30 steps to the car.
What more can one say ? A little familiarity has now settled, and with that some really special moments. Shyness becomes less, and the conversation, when heavy breathing allows, is comfortable. Although I am pretty sure that my thoughts are random and scattered, for she demands all of your attention, and as those magic hands weave their spell over your ever grateful body, rational conversation is not really at the top of my list.
When getting a massage, one spends about 30 to 40 minutes lying face down with your face buried in those uncomfortable holes in the plinth. In other words, you are deprived of looking at the magnificent view that is Lindsey. You can try and turn your head, but cramps force you to assume the position again.
When you are allowed to turn around, you quickly look to see if those are really blue eyes, but is a fleeting thought, for Lindsey in all her naked glory would be in front of you, touching you, stroking you, enticing you with those magic hands, a half smile on her face, knowing that you are like putty in her hands, moulding you into an assault weapon, primed to explode at any given time, varying the angles, teasing some more, till you cannot stop yourself from shouting her name as you explode in a never ending spasm of pleasure, the plinth rocking under your involuntary frantic spasms to rid your weapon of all its ammunition.
You lying breathing heavily as if you just completed a 400 metre sprint, your vision slightly blurred, gasping for air, trying to find some measure of self control as you have let yourself go with complete abondon. Not quite succeeding, and her soothing hands cleaning all your spend bullets not really helping you to regain your composure.
This would be the time that I would like to hold her in my arms, cuddling, smelling the faint perspiration from her brow, realising that she was also in sync with your emotions. Hoping that she was. Slowly entering Mother Earth again from your journey into oblivion.
The shower is a nice touch, the oil from your back not always reachable on your own, and thankful not to enter the workplace again with your shirt stuck against your oily back. You still gasping for air, so no conversation, just a last look at that magnificent body in such close proximity.
My purpose for the next visit : forget the massage. I simply want to sit and look at this creature from heaven, basking in the closeness of her, just enjoying the view. For that I would pay gladly and think it an absolute bargain.
Thanks Lindsey, a new star is born.