Boy, 21: Love and Lust

Chapter 48: Masseur de poitrine- Pt 1 (a little 18+)

The spa’s cool air hit them like a fresh wave, a soothing break from the plaza’s warmth. A soft, clean scent filled the air, and was layered on the quiet hum of ambient music.

The receptionist from earlier gave them a polite, practiced smile.

"Welcome back,"

She said. "You’re right on time. All the arrangements have been made. If you’ll just have a seat—your masseur will be with you shortly."

Joren and Lana exchanged a quick look and moved to the waiting area, dropping into deep, cushioned chairs. Lana crossed her leg, her fingers idly tracing the armrest’s curve.

"Man," Joren began, leaning in, his voice low, "I can’t wait for our massage session."

Lana smirked. "yeah, we’re gonna have so much... fun."

Before he could reply, a tall man in a slate-gray uniform appeared from the hall. His posture was relaxed, his face calm.

"Joren and Lana?" he asked.

They both stood.

"Right this way," he said, turning.

They followed.

He led them down the hall and into a room. A massage room.

​The room was softly lit with amber, casting long, warm shadows across the space. The air was rich with sandalwood and citrus, and a soft, gentle music worked on melting tension before they even lay down.

Two beds, dressed in crisp white linen, stood parallel to each other. Oils and towels were neatly arranged nearby.

Joren gave a low, appreciative whistle. "Okay, this is ridiculously high-class."

The masseur smiled faintly. "You can change here. Towels are provided. Once you’re ready, we’ll begin."

They ducked behind a simple screen, taking off their clothes. They wrapped thick towels around their bodies and emerged, barefoot and quiet against the floor.

The masseur folded his hands. "Who would like to get the massage first?"

Joren started to speak, "Well, I was thinking—"

"He’ll go first."

Lana cut him off, her voice smooth and confident. "I want to massage him first."

Joren blinked. "Wait, Lana, let me massage you—"

"Trust me," Lana said, not moving her eyes from the masseur. "I’ve got this."

Joren paused, then gave a small, defeated shrug. "Fine. I’ll go first."

He climbed onto the bed, adjusting the towel before lying face down. The linen was cool, and the room felt suddenly private.

The masseur stepped to Lana’s side, his tone calm and instructional. "We’ll begin with the shoulders. Use firm but gentle pressure. Let your hands follow the muscle line."

Lana nodded, her fingers poised.

She stepped close, her palms resting on Joren’s upper back as the masseur gave his first instruction. She pressed down—steady, surprisingly skilled. Joren let out a low, relaxed sigh.

"Okay," he murmured into the bed. "That’s... that’s actually really good."

Lana’s lips curved slightly, but she stayed focused, her hands gliding up and down his spine with a rhythmic, practiced flow. The masseur watched quietly, tossing out occasional tips: adjust the angle, soften the wrist, follow the tension.

After a minute, Lana’s movements began to subtly, deliberately shift. Her fingers started dipping beneath his hips to "massage" his member. Her pressure softened, becoming less therapeutic and more intentional.

Joren’s breath hitched—once, then again. He didn’t speak, but his his shaft responded to her touch almost immediately.

The masseur’s brow furrowed. He cleared his throat lightly.

Lana didn’t look up.

"What’s wrong, Mr. masseur?" She asked innocently, still focused on stroking Joren.

"Miss, I must ask you to keep the massage within therapeutic boundaries. This is a professional setting."

"He’s fine with it." she said, her voice smooth. "Aren’t you, Joren?"

A muffled pause. "Yeah. I’m good."

He hesitated, clearly weighing whether to press further. "Still, I’m responsible for maintaining standards. If this continues—"

Lana cut in, her voice sharp but composed. "We paid for this session, didn’t we? That gives us the right to enjoy it however we choose — within reason."

The masseur’s mouth opened slightly, but no words came out.

"We’re not hurting anyone," she added, her tone cooling. "And he’s clearly not complaining."

The masseur looked between them, his posture stiff. After a long pause, he gave a reluctant nod and stepped back, leaving her to do her thing.

Lana continued, her strokes faster, more confident. Joren’s fingers curled around the edge of the massage bed as he fought the urge to let out a moan.

The ambient music faded into the background as the room felt warmer. Finally, Lana eased back, her slick hands now resting lightly on his shoulders, leaving Joren fully erect and dripping with precum.

"Done," she said softly.

Joren slowly pushed himself up. His face was flushed, but he kept his composure, the towel still secure... well, mostly secure.

"That was... intense."

The masseur gave a brief, unreadable nod. "Your turn, Miss" he said, gesturing to the second bed.

Joren glanced at Lana, still catching his breath.

"Right," he managed. "Let’s switch."

Lana didn’t move. She adjusted her towel, drawing attention to how they barely held up her breasts.

"Actually," she said, her tone suddenly firm, "I don’t like the scent of that oil. The one you gave me to use on Joren."

The masseur blinked. "Which one? The sandalwood?"

She pointed at a bottle on the tray. "Yeah. Its too strong. Do you have something lighter?"

He hesitated, glancing between her and the oils. "We have a few alternatives. I can check the supply closet."

"Please," she said, smooth and polite, but leaving no room for argument. "I’d rather wait for something I actually like."

Joren leaned forward, puzzled. "You didn’t say anything about it earlier, Lana."

She gave him a casual, dismissive shrug. "I didn’t notice it on time."

The masseur lingered, clearly unsure of the breach in routine, then gave a slow, formal nod. "Very well. I’ll be back shortly."

He turned and left, his footsteps quickly fading down the hall.

Lana waited until the click of the closing door was gone. Then, she took two steps to the door and turned the lock with a quiet, decisive sound.

Joren stood up. "Why’d you lock the door?"

She turned to him, her expression shifting to a sultry one. "So we can have a little alone time."

Before he could form a response, she let the towel fall to the floor with silently and climbed onto the empty massage bed, her breasts jiggling as she moved.

She lay face down, arms folded beneath her head, her voice soft but unmistakable. "Your turn."

Joren blinked, caught off guard. "Wait... are you serious?"

Lana glanced back over her shoulder, eyes steady and teasing. "The door’s locked, Joren. No one’s coming in. It’s just us."

He hesitated, then let out a quiet sigh and stepped forward. "Alright. But if we get caught, this could be trouble. Especially if the the masseur comes back."

Lana didn’t lift her head. "How many times do I have to say it? The door’s locked. We’re fine."

Joren gave a small shrug. "Okay, okay. I get it."

He placed his hands on her back, savoring the warmth of her skin, and began massaging her.