Massaging her Girldick

I unfortunately had to take a break from writing in the middle of several series and promised Fetish Focus stories.

In order to get back into my writing routine I wrote this short standalone story. Nothing fancy here, just a simple story of a man giving a massage to his transwoman neighbor.

Handjobs, cum kissing, and some oral play are the highlights of this story. If you desire something with more kink in it try one of my other stories.

As with most things I write this story takes place in a happy alternate reality where no one has to worry about STD's.

IE

~~

I had known Nicole for a few years now.

She'd moved into my neighborhood three or four years ago, buying the house on the other side of my next-door neighbor. Our shared neighbor was eighty-six years old, and we got to know each other as we took turns checking in on her, picking up her prescriptions, and making grocery runs like neighbors do.

At first, we were just friendly in the way that most people are with neighborhood acquaintances. We would always wave at each other, and we would call greetings across the yard, and we would sometimes exchange small talk about very superficial things.

One evening as I got home from work, she walked a few houses down from her own to meet me in my driveway.

"I have a coupon for two free fully loaded pizzas if I buy two," she said. "Can I interest you in pizza with all the toppings for dinner?"

"Hell yeah," I said. "That sounds good. I'll be happy to buy one off you."

"Would you take two of them?" she laughed. "I love leftover pizza, but I can't eat four of them by myself."

"Absolutely," I grinned. "I love pizza. Even as leftovers."

"But you're not paying for them," she said. "Neighborly treat. I'll text you when they get here."

Forty minutes later I got her text saying they'd be dropped off within a few minutes, and I grabbed a cold six pack and headed her way.

"If you won't let me pay the least I can do is offer you some beer," I announced when she opened her door.

"Now that's a fair trade," she laughed. "Come on in while we wait."

Two minutes later the pizza arrived, and she invited me to eat with her.

"I'm not offended if you have plans, or even if you're not comfortable socializing with me," she said. "But I wouldn't mind the company if you're not in a rush."

"I'm not in any rush," I said. "But why wouldn't I be comfortable socializing with you? You're one of my two favorite neighbors, and the only one giving me free pizza tonight."

"Mrs. Flim said you were cool," Nicole laughed, taking the pizza into the living room. "But I'm never fully certain someone is okay with me until I really get to know them."

"Well no one is a better judge of cool than eighty-six-year-old Mrs. Flim," I laughed, following her with the beer and some paper plates. "She's a pretty good judge of character. But I think I might be missing something. Why wouldn't I be okay with you?"

"Because I'm trans," she said.

"Oh," I said stupidly.

"I'm a transwoman," she said, as if clarifying would help me feel less stupid.

"I didn't know," I said. "I had no idea."

"You didn't?" she asked, surprise on her face.

"I seriously didn't," I said. "I feel like I should apologize."

"Nonsense!" she said. "You haven't offended me. I just assumed you knew. Is it something that bothers you?"

"Not at all," I said leaning forward as if I was about to share a secret. "Unless you're also a serial killer or something."

"I'm not," she grinned. "But I do like a lot of true crime podcasts."

"That sounds pretty normal to me," I said, sitting down in the chair she pointed to. "But I reserve the right to change that answer if you chop me up and put me in your freezer."

"There's only room for one chopped up man at a time in there so you're safe for tonight," she laughed.

I laughed as she passed around the pizza, and we started to eat. Her tv was on with the volume off, and I recognized the movie.

"I haven't seen this in years," I said. "Weren't there some sequels? And a remake even?"

"There were sequels and a remake," she said. "But none were as good as the original. Just a simple story of a man trying to murder his way to the perfect step-family."

"It's an interesting premise," I agreed. "Someone so unhappy with the way the world works and who he is in it that he resorts to murder to try to mold it into his version of perfection."

"I identify with that," Nicole said. "The unhappy part. Not the murdering part."

"Are you happy now?" I asked her.

"Oh hell yes," she answered. "Very much so. I remade my entire world, starting with myself, and I love the way things are."

"That's the important thing," I said. "Having the courage to live life on your own terms. I respect the hell out of that."

"My life is damn near perfect," she said. "Not that I would mind more money or a retirement property in Honolulu."

"To perfection," I said, raising my beer bottle. "Or at least to getting close."

She raised her bottle at me from the other side of the coffee table, and I saw her wince.

"You okay?" I asked.

"I twisted my back," she said. "It's fine, just going to be sore for a day or two."

"I'm a masseur," I told her. "I work as a physical therapist, but I've been giving massages professionally for a year now. I'm not the greatest in the world, but I'm not bad either."

She looked at me for a few seconds, and I suddenly wondered if I'd made her uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry if that was weird," I said. "I'm not trying to hit on you or anything. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"You don't need to apologize," she smiled. "I would love a massage, but I don't want it to be awkward for you."

"It won't be awkward for me," I said. "Unless I end up in your freezer. But you promised there's no room in there."

"What do you charge for a massage?" she asked.

"The neighborly rate is pizza," I told her. "You've already got an established line of credit."

"I can definitely afford that," she laughed. "I have lots of lotions and some massage oil, so you'll have to tell me if any of them will work."

She went down the hall and returned in a few minutes with several bottles, and I looked at her selection.

"This one will be perfect," I said, selecting one. "Unscented and it won't stain anything."

"Want me to stretch out on the couch?" she asked. "Or on the floor?"

"Wherever you're the most comfortable," I said. "A bed would be the best. But I don't expect you to ask a man you hardly know into your bedroom."

"Might as well do it right," she said, standing up. "Follow me."

She left the tv playing soundlessly in the living room and I followed her down the hall to her bedroom. It was simply furnished, with a large bed, two dressers, and an easy chair. There were four mirrored closet doors hung along the wall next to the bed, and she turned the overhead lights on and then dimmed them.

"Should I undress?" she asked, turning to face me.

"You should be comfortable," I told her. "Most of my clients keep at least a towel draped over their private areas, but I've massaged a lot of people who skip the towel entirely and opt to be completely uncovered and nude. It's up to each one what they're comfortable with."

The unprofessional truth was that I was curious about her body and would have enjoyed a chance to see what she looked like without her clothes on. I'd always thought that Nicole was beautiful, and with a bit more confidence I'd have asked her out.

In fact I'd thought of doing so tonight, but I became unsure when I learned that she was transgender. That didn't change how much I liked her, or the fact that I was attracted to her, but it did make me wonder if she was attracted to men.

It also made me leery of having her think I was suddenly asking her out because she was transgender. I didn't want her to think I was just interested in her as a kink instead of as someone who struck me as beautiful that I wanted to spend time with.

"If I strip to just my underwear would that be weird?" Nicole asked me.

"Not for me," I said.

"Good," she said. "Let me get some towels."

She stepped into her bathroom and returned with a stack of towels, and she turned her back to me as she unsnapped her jeans.

I turned away and pretended to reread the back of the massage oil bottle, giving her a respectful illusion of privacy. After a few minutes I glanced over and saw her stretching out face down on the bed, cradling her head on her arms.

"I'm as ready as I'm going to get," she said.

I moved over to the bed and noticed that she was braless. Her breasts were pressed against the bed, but from my vantage point they appeared tiny and firm.

"Tell me if you need this harder or softer," I said, rubbing my oiled-up hands together. "Or if you need me to concentrate on or ignore any particular area."

She had a towel discretely draped over her ass, and I wondered if she'd taken her panties off or not.

I began at her shoulders, giving her a good long rub, concentrating on each area and making sure to give it a thoroughly intense working over with my hands. She occasionally sighed and I could see a satisfied smile on her face while I worked.

"You're very good at this," she said, the second time I stopped to apply more oil to my hands. "This is heaven."

"Thank you," I replied. "Making someone feel better is its own reward."

As I worked against the small of her back another thought occurred to me, and I wondered if I should bring it up. I didn't want to mention it unnecessarily and embarrass her, but if it would be an issue, it might be better to acknowledge it beforehand.

I skipped over her towel and started at her feet, giving each one a firm massage, smiling to myself as I heard her sigh contentedly. After several minutes I worked my way up to her calves, realizing I had been at this for more than an hour.

"So damn good," Nicole whispered, as if she could read my thoughts.

"Do you want me to do this too?" I asked softly, placing my hand against her thigh.

"If you're willing, I'd love it," she answered.

I began to work on the back of her thigh, and she let out a long throaty moan, ending with a satisfied sigh.

"Thank you," I said with a grin.

"For what?" she asked. "I should be thanking you."

"For being vocally appreciative," I told her. "Most people keep those noises to themselves because they don't want to be thought of as a pervert."

"If you spend enough time with me, you'll realize that I'm already a pervert," she giggled. "No sense trying to hide it."

I moved to the other thigh, and she gave another happy sigh.

"Thank you for doing this," she said. "My whole body feels better, not just my back."

"Rubbing a pervert isn't the worst use of my evening," I said. "Any time my hands can be of use just let me know."

"You shouldn't make an offer like that to a pervert," she said. "You could end up in over your head."

"That's okay," I told her. "I'm a pretty good swimmer. Would you like me to do your front too?" I asked.

"If you have time," she said. "I feel like I'm taking advantage of you."

"I love doing this," I assured her as I kept rubbing. "No worries there. But I feel like I should mention something awkward. Just in case."

"Awkward?" she whispered.

"Arousal is pretty normal during a massage," I told her. "It doesn't matter who is doing the massage and who's getting the massage. It's not even sexual necessarily. It's just a physical response to stimulus."

"I've had that happen before," she admitted. "Something about being that relaxed with another person."

"Exactly," I said. "And I'm about to confess to something that I've never told another person before."

She looked over her shoulder at me, her eyes wide and a quizzical look on her face.

"Arousal arouses me," I said quickly. "It's not something I plan or something I want to happen. It's just something that does."

"Are you aroused?" she whispered.

"Not at the moment," I said. "But I'm working hard to concentrate on the massage and not your sexy body. And I'm not trying to proclaim that I expect you to get aroused. I'm just saying that if you do and I see it, I'll get hard too."

"Hard doesn't bother me," she whispered. "Does it bother you?"

"No," I said, wishing my voice wasn't so hoarse. "But at work I have a towel tucked into my belt. If it happens here, you'll notice it and I don't want you to be offended."

"I won't be offended," Nicole said softly. "Would you be offended if I got stiff from being rubbed like this?"

"No," I said. "I wouldn't."

"Good," she said.

She rolled over onto her back, and the towel moved with her. As she settled back with her arms up by her head, I saw that there was a stiff little bulge in her boxer briefs.

The sight of an obvious erection should have looked out of place on a woman's body, but on Nicole the erotic evidence of what was between her legs was so obviously a part of her and who she was that it just added to her feminine beauty.

Her firm and petite breasts looked absolutely breathtaking in the dim light. I had been kneeling next to the bed while I worked on her thigh, and I was still down there, close enough to see the pronounced nipples that jutted out of her darker areolas.

"I'll...I'll do your front now," I whispered, trying desperately not to stare.

She giggled and I blushed.

"I didn't mean it like that," I laughed. "I was just going to continue the massage...if that's alright."

"I'm the one who should apologize," Nicole said. "I should have warned you. I guess it's not very neighborly to spring that on you."

"I shouldn't have stared," I said. "I literally just got done talking about how that might happen and that we shouldn't let it distract us, and then I stare like a horny idiot."

"You're not an idiot," she said, reaching out and touching her fingertips to my wrist. "And you can stare if you want to. I like to be looked at."

"I always try not to stare at work," I said. "It makes people uncomfortable when the guy massaging them looks at their dick. Most of them are afraid that it means they're turning gay, especially if they're hard."

"Not all of them though?" Nicole asked.

"Some of them know it's normal," I said, rubbing more oil onto my hands before starting on her arm. "It's a purely animal reaction to having their body touched. It's not a romantic or social statement."

"What about the others?" she whispered.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"You said that some of them know that" she answered. "What about the others?"

"Some get dressed and leave quickly," I said. "It embarrasses them even when I act like I don't notice it. But some want me to see it. Whether they wanted to get hard or not they figure if it's there they might as well show it to me."

"Just show it to you?" she asked with a twinkle in her eye.

The cute bulge was still there in her boxer briefs, making the lavender boy shorts look amazingly even more feminine.

"I've had several request that I finish their massage by helping them cum," I admitted.

I stood back up then, in order to reach her other shoulder, self-conscious about my own erection but trying to pretend it wasn't there.

"Do they ever notice that you sometimes get hard too?" she asked softly, her eyes moving to the tented front of my pants.

"I don't think so," I told her. "I'm mostly working with an apron for the oil and lotion, and I have a towel looped into my belt. It's not as obvious as it would be otherwise. And most of the guys don't look."

"What about the guys who want you to finish them?" she asked, her eyes bright in the dim room.

"They always look," I laughed. "They want to figure out if I'm interested."

"How often do they make you hard?" she asked quietly.

"Most erections make me hard," I answered in a near whisper. "I'm not really into guys, but the sight of a cock that needs relief always gets my attention. I'm not attracted to men, but I've always been drawn to cocks."

"Do you ever...help them?" she asked.

I stopped massaging her and added a bit more oil to my fingertips, rubbing my hands together.

"I'll make another confession I guess," I said with a grin. "I usually don't because I could lose my job. But once in a while I have."

"What makes you decide to help certain ones?" she asked.

"For starters if they make me really hard," I said. "Not just stiff, but if seeing them makes me throb that really makes me consider it. I've only done it three or four times though."

"Do they offer to pay you extra?" she asked.

"Money has never once been mentioned," I told her. "But the guys I've done it for have always tipped me generously afterwards."

"So if it really turns you on you consider just going for it?" Nicole asked with a grin.

"That's mostly the deciding factor," I admitted. "The first cock I ever touched besides my own was because the guy looked so big that I almost couldn't resist. I could tell by the way the towel tented that he was big, and he caught me glancing at it and said I could lift the towel if I wanted a look."

"How big was he?" Nicole asked softly.

"Huge," I said. "Not when he was flaccid, but when he was hard it was enormous. Thick and long. I used both hands on it."

"You just grabbed it?" she laughed.

"No," I answered with a grin. "I did lift the towel to look and then continued the massage, and it just stayed hard, standing straight up. He told me he hated having to get dressed like that, and asked if I had any objection to him doing it himself. Some guys like that. Masturbating in front of me."

"You like to watch?" she asked.

"If someone wants to be watched I guess," I said. "It's not like I'd enjoy peeking at someone who didn't know I was there."

"But you did more than just watch that guy," she prompted me.

"Oh yes," I said. "I told him he could if he wanted to, and he sort of raised his eyebrows and looked at me and I knew he'd let me, so I did."

"And you enjoyed it?" she asked.

I noticed that her own erection was still pushing out against her boxer briefs, and I felt myself throb as I looked at it.

"I did," I said. "Not as much as he did of course, but it was pretty erotic to feel a hard cock that wasn't my own. My hands were slippery from the massage oil, and he'd been hard for a long time by the time I started, so it didn't take long for him to lose control."

"I'll bet that was a sight to see," she laughed.

"He came like a firehose," I laughed. "Made a huge mess. But watching it erupt like it did really got to me."

"I'll bet," she said. "I love watching a cock go off."

"So do I," I said.

I was rubbing the front of her thighs by then, and I was having a hard time concentrating on anything other than our conversation, her arousal, and my own.

"I think I'm about done here," I said, picking up a towel and wiping my hands. "If I touch you anywhere else, I might not be able to stop."

"That doesn't sound like a bad thing at all," she smiled. "I don't know how to thank you though. This massage has been incredible."

"How about joining me for another beer before I leave?" I asked.

"Do you want to leave?" she asked.

"Not really," I replied. "But I don't want you to think I'm trying to make a move on you. I don't want to overstay my welcome."

"Stay right here," she said. "I don't want you to think that I'm not interested in you making a move on me."

She got up from the bed and left the room, wearing only her boxer briefs. I stood awkwardly by the bed, feeling like I should at least sit down, but not wanting to be too presumptuous.

"Here we go," she said. "Cold beer. I put the pizza in the fridge, so there's absolutely no rush."

I took the beer from her, trying not to stare at her body as I took a drink. I had forgotten about the pizza while I massaged her. In fact, I'd forgotten about everything but her body while I'd been with her.