Becca’s Better Beach Massage

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Becca’s Better Beach Masturbation Massage

Six Friends at the Beach – How I Learned to Love Group Sex

Edited by A_Little_Show’s Spouse

This is an entry in the SUMMER LOVIN 2019 contest. Please vote.

———- ~ ———-

“I’m telling you, the card is wrong.” Becca insisted. The six of us were playing a trivia game, and the card had asked, “Which British Royal is a helicopter pilot?” Becca insisted there was more than one, but the card showed “Prince Andrew” as the correct answer.

“Give it up, Becca,” Kirsten complained. “I bet my massage coupon the card is right, and you are wrong.”

“Deal!” Becca grabbed her phone from the table where they all lay face down to discourage cheating at trivia. In moments, she showed Kirsten a picture of Prince Charles flying a helicopter, and there was a whole article about it.

Kirsten tossed the massage coupon at Becca and stormed away to the room she shared with Ted in our two bedroom bungalow. Ted gave us a, “What can you do?” shrug and followed his girlfriend, closing the door behind him.

“I guess the game is over,” Summer announced. “I was too tipsy to play anyway, and I’m ready to sleep.”

It was only 10:30PM, but Becca kissed me and said she was going to bed as well. That left Elton and me to try and get comfortable in the living room. Elton took the La-z-boy recliner, and I took the sofa.

I had a hard time sleeping – pun intended. Becca and I had been apart all summer. We worked in separate cities trying to earn as much money as we could. College is expensive in the USA. Just the sight of her fully clothed was enough to get me hard after three months. I had so much pent up sexual frustration. We had tried phone sex, but we both lacked privacy. She was afraid of being overheard by her parents or siblings, so we ended up having sporadic texting sex. It was still hot. Becca sent me some soft core images of herself. I once asked her to share video of her masturbating during our texting, but she declined.

The next morning, Becca called the spa to schedule her massage. The woman on the phone tried to up-sell a more deluxe package for $100, but Becca insisted on the basic service. None of us had an extra $100 we would part with easily. The only time available that day for using the basic coupon was 5:30PM, so the time was set.

The six of us spent the day exploring on our bikes. That’s one of the charms of Hilton Head Island. There are dedicated bike paths everywhere. The island is mostly flat, so even long rides weren’t too taxing. Bikes are allowed on the beach, too. The beach is often the most direct route between attractions.

Becca only had time for a quick spritz in our villa’s shower before walking across the parking lot to the hotel’s spa. The rest of us tagged along so we could get dinner as soon as Becca’s session concluded. Kirsten was still salty about losing the coupon, though.

When Becca presented her coupon to the supermodel wanna-be at the hostess counter, Becca was immediately asked to show ID. Becca stands 5′ and has a slight frame. She once complained to me that she has to shop in the girls’ departments for clothes. She looked younger than she was. It probably didn’t help that her curly (She would say frizzy) hair was almost always in braids to keep it out of her face. Most people assumed she was a teenager.

Becca fished her phone out of a pocket of the crocheted mesh cover-up she wore over her bikini. She pulled her ID out of a slot in her phone case and brandished it with pride. It confirmed that she was 20 years old.

“I’m sorry. You won’t be able to use your coupon right now,” the hostess asserted.

After some very polite back and forth between Becca and the hostess while the rest of us lounged in the spa lobby, Becca told us the outcome. “So, the problem is that the spa has floor to ceiling glass doors that are open to the bar to let an ocean breeze in. They won’t let me into the spa because it’s currently open to the bar.

“Damn. That sucks.” Kirsten didn’t look disappointed. The rest of us were all 21, and Kirsten probably thought Becca would return the coupon that was useless to Becca but precious to Kirsten.

“It’s OK. The hostess arranged for a masseur named Greg to give the massage on the beach. They sometimes bring the tables out for more deluxe packages. Greg is willing to do that for my coupon.”

The outside bar was on a large wooden deck jutting out over some dunes. We all trouped around the deck to the designated spot below and behind the bar. It was picturesque with dune grass swaying in the breeze and sea birds could be heard calling when the happy hour crowd at the bar wasn’t too noisy. As we walked, Becca confided, “I was hoping for a masseuse as opposed to a masseur.”

Greg arrived and unfolded his table. He turned out to be a handsome young man who must have lived in a fitness center. We couldn’t tell through his white uniform shirt, but Kirsten bet Greg had six-pack abs. His arms were thick. He looked like he güvenilir bahis could break me in half without raising a sweat.

Becca took her cover-up off and climbed onto the table face down with her forehead on a rolled towel. She called out to me, “Will you untie my top please?”

I wanted to say, “Are you sure?” She seemed to have more experience with the way massage works than the rest of us, so I stepped over and untied the string on her back. I didn’t want to seem ignorant or uptight.

Greg draped a towel across Becca’s perky buns and concealed her upper thighs from our view. We were transfixed watching Becca’s massage. The side boob she exposed was probably all it took to captivate Elton and Ted. We milled around observing from every angle during the first half hour. Greg worked Becca’s muscles from her scalp to the rise of her derriere. Then he rubbed her feet and worked up each leg until his hands disappeared under the towel.

Greg directed Becca to roll over for the other side. He moved the towel from her bottom and held it above her upper back. As Becca rolled, the untied bikini top remained on the table. The towel Greg held may have blocked his view of Becca’s bare breasts, but it gave the rest of us and some bar patrons a lovely flash. In a moment, the towel draped across her breasts. Elton said, “Did I just see that?”

I punched Elton’s shoulder.

A few seconds later, Ted half-shouted, “Hey Elton!”

When Elton turned, Ted pulled aside a cup of Kirsten’s bikini top to expose a nipple. Kirsten slapped his hand away and re-adjusted her top to the accompaniment of a lone wolf whistle from the bar.

The massage of Becca’s legs proceeded as before, but without the towel over her bikini bottom, I could see that Greg’s fingers went all the way to the elastic of the bikini crotch and even a bit farther. He pushed the bottoms aside slightly and he wrapped both of his meaty hands around Becca’s upper thigh to rotate her hip. Becca said something like, “Oh, yah. That’s the spot.” With Becca’s encouragement, the masseur spent the remainder of the second half hour working parts of her upper thighs that could arguably be called the edges of her vulva. All the stretching and kneading put Becca into some lewd contortions. It also gave Becca a spectacular camel toe.

Time was up, and I tipped Greg $10 for feeling up my girlfriend. It felt like I was in the Twilight Zone. Becca sleepily sat up holding the towel over her breasts for modesty. “Will you help me with my top?” She asked.

I loped around to the side of the table and retrieved the flattened, wrinkled cloth from behind her where she had been laying on it. Then she said, “Hold the towel for a minute.”

Unlike Greg, I did peek over the towel as she groggily redressed. Also unlike Greg, I did my best to keep anyone else from seeing.

After dinner, Becca and I took a barefoot stroll on the beach. We held hands as the sun got close to setting. The surf lapped at our ankles and we splashed for the fun of it. I asked Becca if she had ever had a massage before. She said she took a night school course on Therapeutic Massage because it would help her future Physical Therapy career. She said the students all practiced on each other. I asked her when she took the course, and she said it was a year before she met me. She needed two more classes and didn’t have a certificate yet.

Back at the villa, Summer asked the question I had been dreading. “How was the massage?”

Becca said, “It was relaxing, but substandard in my opinion.”

“How so?” Summer was curious. The rest of us listened attentively.

“He didn’t seem to understand where my tension was. I felt like bread dough under a rolling pin. It’s supposed to feel more like a weight lifting than a weight pressing down.” Becca frowned. “It was still relaxing though.” She put a happy spin on it. “It’s hard not to feel a little better after someone makes you into the center of the universe for an hour.”

I blurted, “I’d love a chance to see if I can’t lift some weight off you.” I probably sounded like the naive nerd I was and still am.

Late that night, I “tucked” Becca into her bed while Summer waited impatiently for me to leave. I groped Becca gently under her blanket before sighing and retreating. A raging erection tented my shorts on the way out. I’m certain Becca and Summer both noticed.

———- ~ ———-

Becca and I enjoyed an early morning bike ride – just the two of us – before the day got too hot. As we rode, we chatted about our upcoming classes. We repeated trivialities we had already discussed countless times via phone and text over summer. During a brief lull, I blurted, “I got a little jealous of Greg.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Well, he had his hands all over you, and I know that’s what massage is, but I want so badly to put MY hands all over you. It’s been a LONG summer. It tortured me seeing Greg touch you in ways and places I haven’t even touched you yet.”

“I can see that,” güvenilir bahis siteleri Becca conceded. “You didn’t have to watch though.”

I couldn’t answer that, so I tried a different angle. “So, I got a little aroused watching your massage. That’s part of the reason I’m jealous.”

Becca didn’t reply.

I asked a question that had been on my mind since the previous evening. I told myself over and over that I wouldn’t ask it. Then, I did. “Becca, was the massage a little arousing for you too? Did you think Greg was good looking?”

Becca didn’t say anything for a while leaving me in suspense. I asked myself what I would think or do if she said “yes.”

“I didn’t look at Greg much. My eyes were closed. His technique was not all that attractive though. He was ham-handed.”

I noticed she didn’t really answer either of my questions. I told myself I would leave it at that, but her non-answer rattled around in my imagination.



We rode close together right at the edge of the waves. “Were you aroused?”

Becca pedaled faster, and I had to work to keep up. As we flew down the mostly empty beach at breakneck speed, she said something. It was difficult to hear over the wind and ocean noise. I think she said, “Massage always makes me horny.”

I tried to imagine a cute masseuse touching Becca. It could be a sexy fantasy for me, but my stupid brain kept inserting Greg into the scenarios. Several emotions washed over me. I was fatigued from the vigorous race Becca instigated. I was angry in some non-specific way. I was jealous. I was insecure. I was horny as hell.

Becca finally stopped, and we walked our bikes side by side to a plank gangway over the dunes and back to the paved bike paths. We rode at a sedate pace, and Becca explained. “I’m kind of embarrassed about it.” She paused. “In my class, I got horny every time. It didn’t matter if it was a cute guy or an old guy or one of the women massaging me. After the first few massages, I started getting wet before I was even on the table.”

“Wow.” It was all I could say.

“We’re taught that arousal is not uncommon. If a man gets an erection, we’re supposed to ignore it. This one guy in my class got erections every time. It made me feel better that I wasn’t the only one who’s body betrayed them.”

“You saw his erection?”

Becca smiled sympathetically at me. “It was pretty impressive.” She winked.

“You should see mine right now,” I grumped.

“I guess it’s a little easier for women. Even if we’re nude for the massage, our arousal is less obvious. We can fool ourselves into thinking the masseuse or masseur doesn’t notice. The guy with the erections was so embarrassed. We all tried to ignore it like we were told, but some of us girls couldn’t help discussing it after class.

“Ouch! I’m glad I wasn’t that guy.” I didn’t mean a single word of the sentence.

“I didn’t participate in those discussions very often. I wanted to get home as soon as possible for a little relief.”

“You masturbated?” I already said I was a naive nerd.

“It was hard to wait until I got home. Sometimes I started while I was driving.”

“Please let me massage you.”

Becca agreed. “I’d like that, I think. If you’re any good at it, you might get a show. It would be so nice to be able to masturbate during a massage instead of holding it in for later. It’s one of my fantasies.”

I was shocked. “I couldn’t do that. Not with a stranger. Not with another guy.”

“Some of the guys are gay. They might like it.” Becca teased. More seriously, she clarified. “It’s a taboo. We know we arouse our clients, but we never let things become overtly sexual. We’re supposed to leave the room if a man does something like that. Most places will ban that client.”

“What about if a woman does it?” I thought.

After a long silence while I digested her words, Becca continued. “The thing is, massage is all about the client. We make the client feel like the center of the universe. If someone masturbated while I massaged them, I wouldn’t be offended or grossed out or anything.” She considered her words. “If I did it, you know – as the client, it wouldn’t be about the masseur. It would be about me. I’m the center of the universe, and I should have the pleasures I crave in the moment. Masturbation is by-and-for the masturbator. Everyone does it. I really can’t see why it should be so taboo.”

“You might change your tune if the masseur was less attractive than Greg.” I hoped. “Could you really masturbate with an ugly old hairy dude watching or Mathilda, the weight lifting battle-axe?”

“I guess I don’t know. In my fantasy, the masseur or masseuse doesn’t play a role other than making me feel good. Like I said. It’s for me. I think I could get lost in a really good massage and forget anyone could see what I was doing for myself.”

———- ~ ———-

That evening, we all ate at a great Cajun restaurant. Then, the six of us rode our bikes to an Italian iddaa siteleri Ice place. I had Blood Orange. Becca got Sea Salt Caramel. While we were riding back to the villa, Becca shouted to be heard. “Summer, can I have a couple of hours alone in our room?” She explained that I promised to give her a massage.

“You hear that?” Kirsten complained to any and all. “She gets two massages, and I don’t even get one.”

“That’s not true,” Ted objected. “You have that Hitachi back massager. I know you’ve used it.”

Everyone but Kirsten laughed.

“I’ll give you a massage,” Becca suggested. “I’m better than Greg.”

“Are you better than the Hitachi Magic Wand?” Ted made the question sound dead serious.

“Can we watch?” Elton’s agenda was hidden from nobody.

“You can’t, but I will.” Ted grinned.

Becca then shocked me again. She said, “Why not both? You can use the Hitachi while I massage you.”

Kirsten was getting excited with all the talk about getting massaged. She said something like, “Doesn’t every girl fantasize about two at a time?”

When Becca and I were alone in her room, she nonchalantly stripped like it was an every day thing for her to get naked in front of me. She made some adjustments to get the top blanket taut on the bed. While she was bent over, I could see her labia part. She lay on her stomach close to the edge of the bed on top of the blanket.

She said, “I can’t teach you deep muscle massage in the time we have, so I have another idea. We’ll do something similar to Reiki massage.”

“What’s that?”

“You place your palms just above my body and try to feel energy, warmth, radiating from me. Get your hands so close that you aren’t quite sure if you are touching me or not.”

I could do that. I bent over her and started with her shoulders. She rotated them a little under my hands.

“Watch the clock. Time it so you finish my back side right at the half hour mark.”

As my hands roamed at a snail’s pace over the back of her arms, her gooseflesh raised invisible little hairs and tickled my finger tips. Becca looked like she was melting under my touch. I lingered over the sides of her breasts. After a minute or two, she whispered, “Move along.”

When my hands travelled from the small of her back to the sides of her hips and the rise of her round fleshy parts, she cooed. My penis throbbed in my pants.

I hated to change the delicious caresses she clearly enjoyed, but a vision of Greg’s hands on the threshold of Becca’s vulva compelled me to find out what that was like. I made a few little dips of motion to Becca’s inner thighs raising the cute little hairs on her buttocks along the way. I forced myself to work down one leg to a foot. She giggled for a moment and I poked my fingers gently between her toes before stroking the tips of her toes.

I was unable to delay any more. Becca’s legs were slightly parted, and I could see her freshly shaved pussy lips glistening. They were slightly parted, too. I worked up Becca’s other leg. I probably rushed it. Soon, both of my hands hovered over her inner thighs so close that I could feel the heat of her arousal. I used one finger on each hand to stroke the skin that joined thigh to vulva. I couldn’t resist. I moved those two fingers to caress her parted outer lips. I still used the Reiki method. I thought maybe she couldn’t be sure that I was touching her there. My fingers dipped around the edges of the lips just enough to come away slightly lubricated.

Becca rolled over onto her back and adjusted herself to get close to the edge of the bed again. I started all over just like Greg had done. I soothed the hair line of her forehead, barely touching skin but bending tiny loose strands of hair. My fingers traced her jaw line. Then I wrapped my hands around her neck without actually touching. I really could feel energy radiating from Becca.

I made tiny circles along her sides from armpit to hip. Then I moved my hands fractionally toward her center and worked my way back up. By the time my palms started climbing the rise of her breasts, her nipples were hard in anticipation. I wanted to pinch her nipples, but I knew it would spoil her relaxation. I circled her areola, though. Her nipples dragged and tickled my palms as my hands hovered over her.

With both hands between her breasts, I worked my way down, studying every inch of her skin on the way toward her belly. When my fingers began to rise with her pubic mound, I diverted them to the sides. My fingers brushed her bare skin at the threshold where her pubic hair would regrow if she let it. I noticed the long muscles from her abdomen to her groin tighten slightly and worried I was spoiling her relaxation. My palms spread to wrap around her outer thighs. Once again, tiny hairs perked.

As I worked my way down one of Becca’s legs, her right hand absentmindedly flopped onto her belly. By the time I was using two fingers to tickle the sides of her knee, the hand lay idly on her mons where I imagined curly pubic hair should be.

I started up Becca’s other leg, and her index finger started ever so slowly and delicately stroking the right side of her clitoral hood. It wasn’t even stroking really. It was similar to the almost-touch I was using.

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