dahoochman
TMF Expert
- Joined
- Sep 16, 2002
- Messages
- 364
- Points
- 28
The TMF guy with the Massage Table: MM/F Feet, Nylons
It all started with a post on the TMF. I posted several pics of my wife posing in sheer black nylons on a bed, on a couch, and sitting in a chair. I asked the rhetorical question – “Would you ever stop tickling these feet”. The post not only received numerous comments, mostly positive, but also a ton of private messages through the TMF site. Here is a sample pic:
Most of the private messages were complimentary of my wife, commenting on how sexy her legs and feet were in the sheer black nylons. A number of them commented on how badly they would tickle her if given the chance. Some were quite detailed. Several were very explicit and mentioned doing sexual things to her and her and her feet.
But one reply stood out. I received a message from “Mark”. His initial replies were much the same as the others: complimenting my wife’s legs and feet, and expressing his desire to tickle her brains out. But what made his email stand out was the exquisite detail and scenario he had in mind. He not only expressed his desire to tickle her, but went in to painstaking detail as to how he wanted to do it, which made his reply incredibly intriguing and arousing.
He detailed how he envisioned a rendezvous with us going: it would start as an innocent meeting, and would end with my wife tightly tied face down to his massage table, fully dressed in her typical office attire of a dress or skirt and blouse, sheer nylons, and heels. He would start off the “massage” innocently enough on her shoulders and back, and work his way down her body, slowly and gently massaging her lower back, then thighs, and then calves, working in an occasional sneaky tickle, until her reached his final destination – her helpless stockinged feet. He would then remove her heels, and slowly massage and rub her feet, starting with her heels. He would then introduce his fingertips to the soles of her feet, slowly at first and then more deliberately, and work her into a frenzy, before finally descending on her ultra sensitive toes. He closed his initial email by asking if there was any chance of an in person meeting.
I had long fantasized about watching as another man tickled my wife senseless, but Mark’s extremely detailed description of how he would go about it had me rock hard. I needed to make this happen. But I also knew my wife, who on one hand was flirty and a lot of fun and indulged many of my fantasies, but on the other hand was also very cautious and conservative and would never consider introducing another man into our play. I needed a plan. And then, the solution hit me - Wine, and a massage lesson!
I exchanged several more emails with Mark detailing my idea. I would tell my wife Mark was a friend of a co-worker who did massages, and was willing to come by one night after work and give us both a massage, and even show me how to massage her. Add in some wine to drop her inhibitions, and this had the potential to be amazing. Mark agreed, and we worked out the specifics. We decided to meet that coming Friday night. I could not wait!
Friday came, and I watched my wife get ready for work. She was 47, and had gained a few pounds, but in my opinion she still looked amazing, and could turn heads when she wanted to! She is 5’4 in her stockinged feet, with long dirty blonde hair, and stunning hazel eyes. Her figure would best be described as curvy, or hourglass, with ample 36C breasts, a smaller waist, with heavier hips and rear (which is where she had gained weight). She had a beautiful smile with perfect teeth, and had the sexiest size 7.5 feet with an amazing arch. Her finger and toenails are always manicured and polished. Today, her nails were a bright red, which displayed beautifully through the sheer black nylons.
She had an important meeting with a top Executive that morning, so she dressed extra formal in a black dress and nylons, with a grey jacket over, and black peep-toe slings. We kissed and she rushed out the door.
I texted Mark soon after she left and confirmed we were still on for that night. I gave him our address, and told him to come by at 8:00. I felt like a little kid waiting for Christmas!
I walked in the door from work at my usual time of 5:30, and my wife was already home. She looked exhausted and frazzled. She was sitting on the sofa, her peep-toe slings were off, and her nylon encased feet were up on the coffee table. She had already finished most of her first glass of wine – Pinot Noir – and had the ¾ full bottle on the coffee table waiting. I walked over, kissed her, and went to the kitchen to grab a glass for myself.
I rejoined her on the couch, and poured myself a glass, and topped hers off. She shared the details of her exhausting day, and told me she was too tired to cook. We ordered food for delivery from a local Italian place, and decided that we would stay in for a relaxing night. As we sat there and cuddled, I shared my surprise with her.
“So, I have a surprise for you.”
“Do you, really? What is it?” she replied.
“OK, well, I didn’t plan it this way, but considering the day you had I think this works out perfect! A co-worker of mine has a guy that comes over every few weeks and gives massages to him and his wife right in their house. He even shows you how to do your own massages! I thought you would enjoy it, so I made an appointment with him for tonight.”
“Oh, hun” she replied. “You are so sweet, but you know how I feel about things like that. I wouldn’t be comfortable lying on a table naked in front of a stranger.”
“I know that, but listen; you don’t have to get naked.” I continued, “I spoke to him already and told him how you would not be comfortable, and he is fine if you keep your clothes on. He told me he has several other clients that do not get naked, so no need to be embarrassed.” I reached over and stroked her cheek. “Besides, I think we can both really use a good massage to relieve some tension, right?”
She smiled and finished her wine. “OK?” I asked.
“OK” she replied, resting her head on my shoulder.
Fast forward to 7:50, we had finished dinner, and were still on the sofa relaxing. My wife was on her 4th or 5th glass of wine, and the bottle was nearly empty. She had turned and had her legs draped across my lap, and I was gently caressing her legs from her calves to her thighs when my phone beeped. I picked it up.
“Ok, he is here” I said, gently moving her legs and making my way to the door. My wife turned, fixed her dress and crossed her legs.
“Should I put my shoes back on?” she asked. “I don’t want him to think that I’m a slob!” she said, smiling.
“If you want, hun! Either way, you look amazing!” I said, smiling. She returned the smile, and reached down to slip her slings back on, slipping her feet in to the shoes first, and the slipping the straps back over her heels with her fingers. She then repositioned herself on the sofa, crossing her ankles, and poured the last of the wine in to her glass. By now her eyes looked glassy, and I could tell by her voice that she was a bit buzzed. Things were going exactly as I planned.
I opened the door and greeted Mark. He was much larger than I anticipated, over 6’3 tall, and you could tell he worked out. He was dressed casually in Jeans and a short sleeved golf shirt. He had short dark hair, a goatee, and some red patches of skin on his cheeks and nose, probably rosacea, which you could immediately tell he was sensitive about, as he really did not make eye contact with me. We shook hands, and I invited Mark in. Mark, carrying his massage table under his right arm in a large case, followed me down the hallway in to the living room where my wife was waiting.
“Hun, this is Mark. Mark, this is my wife.” My wife smiled and stood up, extending her hand to Mark.
“Hi Mark, welcome to our home!” she said with a smile. Mark smiled, and awkwardly shook my wife’s hand before hurriedly putting his table down and starting to unfold it. It was obvious my wife made him very nervous.
“Very nice to meet you” he muttered, avoiding eye contact with my wife as he nervously fumbled with his table. I looked at my wife and shrugged my shoulders. I think she knew he was nervous, and she mouthed “It’s OK” to me, and then she sat back down and crossed her legs.
I watched as Mark, on his knees, continued to unfold and get his table ready. I did notice he would occasionally sneak a peek in my wife’s direction. “Um, Mark can I help you with anything?” I offered.
“No, I got it, it’s really very simple to assemble.” he replied, as he unfolded and locked in the legs to the table. The table stood approximately waist high, and looked to be about 5 feet long. It was covered in a soft padding and a white sheet, and had several handles on each side and on the end. Mark then reached in to the case and pulled out a soft oval head rest with an opening for your face in it, and connected it to the top of the table.
“I have never seen a portable massage table, it looks a little small?” I asked. “How much weight can it hold?”
“Oh, it’s actually quite sturdy. It’s rated for up to 400 pounds, but I have never had anyone quite that large on it.” Mark replied with a chuckle. “Right now it is setup for someone your wife’s height, but if needed I have and extender in the case to make it longer for people as tall as 6 feet 5!” As Mark finished describing his table, I noticed his eyes locked in on my wife’s legs and feet, and I think she noticed as well.
My wife sat there watching, polishing off yet another glass of wine, legs crossed seductively. I could tell she was enjoying how nervous she made Mark, and she kept crossing and uncrossing her legs, sipping her wine and smiling.
She finished her glass, picked up the bottle and held it over her glass, but only a few drops of wine trickled out. She looked at me with a pouty face.
“Hun, I’m out of wine!” she said, smirking.
“I’ll run and get us another bottle in a couple of minutes. Mark, did you want something from the liquor store?” I asked.
“No, but thanks for asking.” He replied. Then he turned to my wife, patting the massage table. “Ready?” he said, with a wry grin.
“OK, but, should I go get changed and put on some workout clothes?” she asked.
“No, you’re fine just the way you are.” said Mark, patting the table.
My wife and I made eye contact again, and I smiled at her as she stood up and slowly approached the table. Mark extended his hand and spoke. “OK, just lie down on your stomach, and put your face in the opening in the padded head rest.”
My wife put her right knee on the table, and then slowly lowered herself on to the table, the left leg following the right. Once she was flat on her stomach she scooted her legs over, her feet just barely hanging off the end of the table, and then lowered her face in to the padded head rest on the end.
“There you go, now how’s that?” asked Mark, softly rubbing her right shoulder with his right hand.
From under the table a faint muffled voice could be heard. “Hun, we can’t hear you!” I said. She lifted her face from the padded head rest.
“Oh my god, this is so comfortable!” she said in a surprised tone. She again lowered her head, her hands resting at her sides.
“Good, good, you just lie there then, and we will start in a minute.” said Mark, and he patted her shoulder one last time and walked back over to the case, pulling out several long straps. He took the first strap and connected it to one of the handles on the side of the table near my wife’s waist, and then tossed the strap over her body. He walked to the other side of the table and looped the strap through the handle on that side and pulled the strap tight, tightly securing my wife’s midsection to the table, her arms pinned to her sides, and tied it tightly.
My wife lifted her head from the head rest. “Hey, what are you doing?” she asked
Mark, in the process of attaching another strap near my wife’s thighs, answered: “Oh, just making sure you don’t accidently roll off the table! Think of these as seat belts!” he said, all the while securing the second strap over the back of her thighs.
I walked over to the table and stood by my wife’s head, rubbing her shoulder and reassuring her. “It’s ok hun, I’m right here. Mark is just trying to keep you safe” I noticed as Mark tightened the strap over her thighs that her dress had risen up as she climbed on the table to her upper thighs, and the strap tightly pressing against her stockinged thighs prevented it from being lowered, so her sexy legs were on full display from top to bottom. If she had lifted her face from the head rest and looked at me she would have noticed my raging erection bulging against my pants.
I watched intently as Mark scurried around the table, securing a 3rd strap over her calves, and a 4th strap over her upper torso just below her shoulders, which made it almost impossible for her to lift her head out of the face rest.
Mark finished with the straps, and walked up to the top of the table where I stood. “So, are you ready for your first massage lesson?” he asked.
“Sure, let’s do it!” I said happily. I squeezed my wife’s shoulder one last time and turned to watch Mark as he began.
“First” he said “start by using your thumbs to apply pressure up and down her spine, like this.” I watched intently as he guided both thumbs down the middle of my wife’s back, stopping occasionally to move his thumbs in small circles and then moving down her back further. My wife moaned in pleasure, muffled by the head rest. When he reached the top of her butt he reversed and went back up her back using the same slow, deliberate motions. As his thumbs approached her sides I noticed him dig his thumbs into her sides and wiggle them, which caused a quick squeal from my wife. Mark finished moving his hands up her back and stepped back from the table. “There, now you try.” He said.
I put my thumbs on her back and slid them down the soft silky material of her dress and down her back. I repeated the steps going up her back, this time with my hands father apart, being sure to press my thumbs into her side in a circular motion. When I did I could see my wife flinch, and her moan turned to a giggle, and then a mild protest.
“Hey, that tickles!” she said. Mark and I made eye contact, and I winked at him with a big smile.
Mark replied in a very calm and matter-of-fact tone: “See, that’s why I use the straps, we wouldn’t want you to jump off the table.” As Mark spoke I followed his eyes down her body to her legs, and I knew what was coming next.
Mark moved down the table, stopping near my wife’s knees. “Since her sides are so sensitive, let’s try her legs” he said. Using his thumbs, he gently started massaging the back of her legs using the same motions with his hands and thumbs. He started on her upper thighs, and moved slowly down the back of each leg, his hands enjoying the feel of her soft silky nylons, until he reached behind her knees. When he reached the back of her knees my wife flinched and giggled again.
“Oh my, someone is very ticklish!” said Mark, but instead of stopping he continued to tickle behind my wife’s knees for several seconds. The straps held my wife firmly in place as she squealed in ticklish agony. Smiling, Mark pulled his hands away. “Now, you try.” He motioned to me.
I stepped closer and placed my hands on the back of my wife’s legs. By now my dick was throbbing, and the feel of her silky sheer black nylons only made it worse. I slowly repeated the motion Mark used, gently rubbing the back of her thighs. When I reached the back of her knees she exploded in laughter.
“OMG! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” was all I could make out from her muffled cries.
I kept tickling the back of her knees for several seconds, relishing her laughter. Then, she pulled her left arm from under the strap holding it against her side and grabbed my shirt, yanking it. Mark noticed right away.
“Oh, we can’t have that!” he replied, pulling another strap from his bag. He walked to his side of the table, and gently guided her right arm out from under the strap holding it to her side. He gently lifted her arm, bending her elbow and pushing her wrist behind her back. Realizing what he was doing, she started to squirm and resist as much as the straps would allow. While Mark maneuvered her right wrist behind her back, I was doing the same with the left. Try as she might, there was no way she was going to fight off two full grown men as we worked her hands behind her back, crossed her wrists, and as I held her arms tight Mark securely bound her wrists together with the strap.
My wife protested from the head rest. “Please don’t tie my hands! I won’t grab any more!” she pleaded, but Mark continued tying the strap to her wrists tightly. He then tightened the 4 remaining straps on the table, securing her even tighter. Smiling at me again, Mark moved down to the bottom of the table, where her feet were hanging off.
I walked over, standing next to Mark, and watched as his hand reached for her right shoe. Slightly trembling, he slowly slid the strap over my wife’s heel, and slipped the sling off her foot. My wife began to immediately protest.
“Hey, stop, I don’t like having my feet rubbed!” she barked out in a muffled tone.
Mark stayed silent, admiring the bottom of her foot. He looked at me, and then removed the shoe from her left foot. We both just stood there admiring her helpless feet for a second.
“Nooooooo, come on!” she said, and started wiggling her feet, which only made things more arousing.
Mark reached for her right foot. “Now when massaging, feet, the secret is to use constant steady pressure.” He said, as he slowly pressed on the bottom of her foot with his left thumb. “Otherwise, it could tickle.” My wife immediately moaned.
Mark’s thumb slowly and methodically pressed into her foot, hitting all of the pressure points that provide relief. My wife moaned loudly, you would think she was about to orgasm. As I watched, I realized how incredibly aroused I was watching this stranger having his way with my wife’s stockinged foot. She moaned and squirmed with each touch, thoroughly enjoying Mark’s talented fingers. After a few minutes Mark turned to me. “You try.” He said.
I reached down and started to rub her other foot with my thumb. At first I was careful not to put too much pressure, but as I added pressure she moaned louder. She was in ecstasy, as 2 men ravished her silky feet. I continued to press deeply in to the sole and instep of her foot when finally I could not help myself, and I raked my thumb nail up the sole of her feet. Her reaction was immediate and explosive.
“AHHHHHHHHHHHH” she squealed, shaking her foot violently. “That tickles!” she yelled.
Mark and I looked at each other with big smiles. Mark then did the same thing to her left foot and she shrieked even louder.
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH STOP IT!” she yelled.
“Oh my, someone has extremely ticklish feet!” Mark exclaimed with a big smile. “So I guess we better not do this!” and as he finished his sentence he raked his fingernails down the bottom of her foot from heel to toe and then back up. I did the same to her other foot.
My wife squealed again, now shaking both of her feet violently, and screaming “STOP!” in between fits of laughter and snorting. After about 10 seconds of tickling her we stopped.
“My, it’s going to be hard to finish this massage with her moving around so much.” Mark said as he reached into his case for even more straps. “Hey, you did say you were going to the Liquor store right?” he said to me with an evil grin.”
“Oh yes, geez, look at the time they close soon. What did you want?” I asked.
“I would love a nice bottle of Red. Make it Merlot.” He said, as he started to tie the straps around my wife ankles.
“Got it” I said, as I grabbed my keys off the coffee table. I could hear my wife protesting.
“Wait, what are you doing!! Why are you tying my ankles!! Hun!!!!!”
Mark ignored her protests, tightly securing her ankles together, and then pulling the strap down and under the table and securing it tightly to the table, making her feet totally immobile.
“Hun I’ll be right back, I’m going to run and get more wine for us!” I said from just inside the door, as Mark pulled a dining room chair over to her tied feet. “Mark, I’ll be back in about a half hour.
“HUN!! WAIT!!! DON’T LEAVE!!!” she yelled, muffled by the table as she tried to squirm.
“No worries, I like to take my time on feet!” said Mark, as he pulled various items out of his case like an electric toothbrush, hair brush, pipe cleaners, and a vibrating dremel tool. “
I stepped out in to the hallway, and turned around to get one last look. Mark pulled his chair closer to her helpless feet, wiggling his fingers mere inches from her helpless tied feet. “Are you ready for the rest of your massage?” he asked.
“NO, NO, WAIT, PLEEEEASSSSEEEE, AHHHHHAHHHHHHHH!” my wife screeched as Mark’s fingernails reached the soles of her feet. This time, there was no pretense of a massage; this was nothing but pure tickling. Mark raked his fingers up and down her feet rapidly as she screeched and thrashed as much as she could. I could see the look on Mark’s face had changed, he had an evil smile, his teeth gritted together, and was making mocking laughing sounds. He was thoroughly enjoying torturing my wife’s feet. I watched intently for about 15 seconds before I decided it was time to leave. As I started to turn Mark had reached down with his left hand and grabbed the electric toothbrush. I closed the door, but stood there by closed door for a minute. I could hear the toothbrush come on and then my wife’s pleadings.
“Mark, PLEEEAASSEEEE, DON’T! AHAHAHAHAHAHA!” The toothbrush found its mark on the bottom of her sensitive feet, and my wife went ballistic. I had never heard such sounds come out of her, as she suffered in ticklish agony. Mark for his part was ruthless, and kept the toothbrush pressed up against the bottom of her feet for an excruciatingly long time. After a while her pleading turned to unrecognizable snorts and squeals, with long pauses in between gales of laughter. I listened for another moment or two, and then finally left to go to the liquor store.
I returned about 45 minutes later, 2 bottles of wine in hand, and pressed my ear to the door before entering. There was not a sound, just silence. Curiously I entered, to find my wife sitting on the couch waiting for me. She was still dressed, and her makeup had run from her eyes tearing. The massage table was still in the middle of the room, but no sign of Mark.
“Are you ok?” I asked. “Mad at me? Where is Mark?” I asked, waiting for her to let me have it. She patted the couch and I sat next to her as she held up her empty wine glass.
“That was incredible.” She said in a soft whisper, obviously still winded from the event. I fumbled with the wine opener, popped open one of the bottles, and poured her a glass. She reached over and unzipped my pants and started rubbing my crotch. “Oh, and Mark is coming back in 2 weeks.”
To be continued……?
It all started with a post on the TMF. I posted several pics of my wife posing in sheer black nylons on a bed, on a couch, and sitting in a chair. I asked the rhetorical question – “Would you ever stop tickling these feet”. The post not only received numerous comments, mostly positive, but also a ton of private messages through the TMF site. Here is a sample pic:
Most of the private messages were complimentary of my wife, commenting on how sexy her legs and feet were in the sheer black nylons. A number of them commented on how badly they would tickle her if given the chance. Some were quite detailed. Several were very explicit and mentioned doing sexual things to her and her and her feet.
But one reply stood out. I received a message from “Mark”. His initial replies were much the same as the others: complimenting my wife’s legs and feet, and expressing his desire to tickle her brains out. But what made his email stand out was the exquisite detail and scenario he had in mind. He not only expressed his desire to tickle her, but went in to painstaking detail as to how he wanted to do it, which made his reply incredibly intriguing and arousing.
He detailed how he envisioned a rendezvous with us going: it would start as an innocent meeting, and would end with my wife tightly tied face down to his massage table, fully dressed in her typical office attire of a dress or skirt and blouse, sheer nylons, and heels. He would start off the “massage” innocently enough on her shoulders and back, and work his way down her body, slowly and gently massaging her lower back, then thighs, and then calves, working in an occasional sneaky tickle, until her reached his final destination – her helpless stockinged feet. He would then remove her heels, and slowly massage and rub her feet, starting with her heels. He would then introduce his fingertips to the soles of her feet, slowly at first and then more deliberately, and work her into a frenzy, before finally descending on her ultra sensitive toes. He closed his initial email by asking if there was any chance of an in person meeting.
I had long fantasized about watching as another man tickled my wife senseless, but Mark’s extremely detailed description of how he would go about it had me rock hard. I needed to make this happen. But I also knew my wife, who on one hand was flirty and a lot of fun and indulged many of my fantasies, but on the other hand was also very cautious and conservative and would never consider introducing another man into our play. I needed a plan. And then, the solution hit me - Wine, and a massage lesson!
I exchanged several more emails with Mark detailing my idea. I would tell my wife Mark was a friend of a co-worker who did massages, and was willing to come by one night after work and give us both a massage, and even show me how to massage her. Add in some wine to drop her inhibitions, and this had the potential to be amazing. Mark agreed, and we worked out the specifics. We decided to meet that coming Friday night. I could not wait!
Friday came, and I watched my wife get ready for work. She was 47, and had gained a few pounds, but in my opinion she still looked amazing, and could turn heads when she wanted to! She is 5’4 in her stockinged feet, with long dirty blonde hair, and stunning hazel eyes. Her figure would best be described as curvy, or hourglass, with ample 36C breasts, a smaller waist, with heavier hips and rear (which is where she had gained weight). She had a beautiful smile with perfect teeth, and had the sexiest size 7.5 feet with an amazing arch. Her finger and toenails are always manicured and polished. Today, her nails were a bright red, which displayed beautifully through the sheer black nylons.
She had an important meeting with a top Executive that morning, so she dressed extra formal in a black dress and nylons, with a grey jacket over, and black peep-toe slings. We kissed and she rushed out the door.
I texted Mark soon after she left and confirmed we were still on for that night. I gave him our address, and told him to come by at 8:00. I felt like a little kid waiting for Christmas!
I walked in the door from work at my usual time of 5:30, and my wife was already home. She looked exhausted and frazzled. She was sitting on the sofa, her peep-toe slings were off, and her nylon encased feet were up on the coffee table. She had already finished most of her first glass of wine – Pinot Noir – and had the ¾ full bottle on the coffee table waiting. I walked over, kissed her, and went to the kitchen to grab a glass for myself.
I rejoined her on the couch, and poured myself a glass, and topped hers off. She shared the details of her exhausting day, and told me she was too tired to cook. We ordered food for delivery from a local Italian place, and decided that we would stay in for a relaxing night. As we sat there and cuddled, I shared my surprise with her.
“So, I have a surprise for you.”
“Do you, really? What is it?” she replied.
“OK, well, I didn’t plan it this way, but considering the day you had I think this works out perfect! A co-worker of mine has a guy that comes over every few weeks and gives massages to him and his wife right in their house. He even shows you how to do your own massages! I thought you would enjoy it, so I made an appointment with him for tonight.”
“Oh, hun” she replied. “You are so sweet, but you know how I feel about things like that. I wouldn’t be comfortable lying on a table naked in front of a stranger.”
“I know that, but listen; you don’t have to get naked.” I continued, “I spoke to him already and told him how you would not be comfortable, and he is fine if you keep your clothes on. He told me he has several other clients that do not get naked, so no need to be embarrassed.” I reached over and stroked her cheek. “Besides, I think we can both really use a good massage to relieve some tension, right?”
She smiled and finished her wine. “OK?” I asked.
“OK” she replied, resting her head on my shoulder.
Fast forward to 7:50, we had finished dinner, and were still on the sofa relaxing. My wife was on her 4th or 5th glass of wine, and the bottle was nearly empty. She had turned and had her legs draped across my lap, and I was gently caressing her legs from her calves to her thighs when my phone beeped. I picked it up.
“Ok, he is here” I said, gently moving her legs and making my way to the door. My wife turned, fixed her dress and crossed her legs.
“Should I put my shoes back on?” she asked. “I don’t want him to think that I’m a slob!” she said, smiling.
“If you want, hun! Either way, you look amazing!” I said, smiling. She returned the smile, and reached down to slip her slings back on, slipping her feet in to the shoes first, and the slipping the straps back over her heels with her fingers. She then repositioned herself on the sofa, crossing her ankles, and poured the last of the wine in to her glass. By now her eyes looked glassy, and I could tell by her voice that she was a bit buzzed. Things were going exactly as I planned.
I opened the door and greeted Mark. He was much larger than I anticipated, over 6’3 tall, and you could tell he worked out. He was dressed casually in Jeans and a short sleeved golf shirt. He had short dark hair, a goatee, and some red patches of skin on his cheeks and nose, probably rosacea, which you could immediately tell he was sensitive about, as he really did not make eye contact with me. We shook hands, and I invited Mark in. Mark, carrying his massage table under his right arm in a large case, followed me down the hallway in to the living room where my wife was waiting.
“Hun, this is Mark. Mark, this is my wife.” My wife smiled and stood up, extending her hand to Mark.
“Hi Mark, welcome to our home!” she said with a smile. Mark smiled, and awkwardly shook my wife’s hand before hurriedly putting his table down and starting to unfold it. It was obvious my wife made him very nervous.
“Very nice to meet you” he muttered, avoiding eye contact with my wife as he nervously fumbled with his table. I looked at my wife and shrugged my shoulders. I think she knew he was nervous, and she mouthed “It’s OK” to me, and then she sat back down and crossed her legs.
I watched as Mark, on his knees, continued to unfold and get his table ready. I did notice he would occasionally sneak a peek in my wife’s direction. “Um, Mark can I help you with anything?” I offered.
“No, I got it, it’s really very simple to assemble.” he replied, as he unfolded and locked in the legs to the table. The table stood approximately waist high, and looked to be about 5 feet long. It was covered in a soft padding and a white sheet, and had several handles on each side and on the end. Mark then reached in to the case and pulled out a soft oval head rest with an opening for your face in it, and connected it to the top of the table.
“I have never seen a portable massage table, it looks a little small?” I asked. “How much weight can it hold?”
“Oh, it’s actually quite sturdy. It’s rated for up to 400 pounds, but I have never had anyone quite that large on it.” Mark replied with a chuckle. “Right now it is setup for someone your wife’s height, but if needed I have and extender in the case to make it longer for people as tall as 6 feet 5!” As Mark finished describing his table, I noticed his eyes locked in on my wife’s legs and feet, and I think she noticed as well.
My wife sat there watching, polishing off yet another glass of wine, legs crossed seductively. I could tell she was enjoying how nervous she made Mark, and she kept crossing and uncrossing her legs, sipping her wine and smiling.
She finished her glass, picked up the bottle and held it over her glass, but only a few drops of wine trickled out. She looked at me with a pouty face.
“Hun, I’m out of wine!” she said, smirking.
“I’ll run and get us another bottle in a couple of minutes. Mark, did you want something from the liquor store?” I asked.
“No, but thanks for asking.” He replied. Then he turned to my wife, patting the massage table. “Ready?” he said, with a wry grin.
“OK, but, should I go get changed and put on some workout clothes?” she asked.
“No, you’re fine just the way you are.” said Mark, patting the table.
My wife and I made eye contact again, and I smiled at her as she stood up and slowly approached the table. Mark extended his hand and spoke. “OK, just lie down on your stomach, and put your face in the opening in the padded head rest.”
My wife put her right knee on the table, and then slowly lowered herself on to the table, the left leg following the right. Once she was flat on her stomach she scooted her legs over, her feet just barely hanging off the end of the table, and then lowered her face in to the padded head rest on the end.
“There you go, now how’s that?” asked Mark, softly rubbing her right shoulder with his right hand.
From under the table a faint muffled voice could be heard. “Hun, we can’t hear you!” I said. She lifted her face from the padded head rest.
“Oh my god, this is so comfortable!” she said in a surprised tone. She again lowered her head, her hands resting at her sides.
“Good, good, you just lie there then, and we will start in a minute.” said Mark, and he patted her shoulder one last time and walked back over to the case, pulling out several long straps. He took the first strap and connected it to one of the handles on the side of the table near my wife’s waist, and then tossed the strap over her body. He walked to the other side of the table and looped the strap through the handle on that side and pulled the strap tight, tightly securing my wife’s midsection to the table, her arms pinned to her sides, and tied it tightly.
My wife lifted her head from the head rest. “Hey, what are you doing?” she asked
Mark, in the process of attaching another strap near my wife’s thighs, answered: “Oh, just making sure you don’t accidently roll off the table! Think of these as seat belts!” he said, all the while securing the second strap over the back of her thighs.
I walked over to the table and stood by my wife’s head, rubbing her shoulder and reassuring her. “It’s ok hun, I’m right here. Mark is just trying to keep you safe” I noticed as Mark tightened the strap over her thighs that her dress had risen up as she climbed on the table to her upper thighs, and the strap tightly pressing against her stockinged thighs prevented it from being lowered, so her sexy legs were on full display from top to bottom. If she had lifted her face from the head rest and looked at me she would have noticed my raging erection bulging against my pants.
I watched intently as Mark scurried around the table, securing a 3rd strap over her calves, and a 4th strap over her upper torso just below her shoulders, which made it almost impossible for her to lift her head out of the face rest.
Mark finished with the straps, and walked up to the top of the table where I stood. “So, are you ready for your first massage lesson?” he asked.
“Sure, let’s do it!” I said happily. I squeezed my wife’s shoulder one last time and turned to watch Mark as he began.
“First” he said “start by using your thumbs to apply pressure up and down her spine, like this.” I watched intently as he guided both thumbs down the middle of my wife’s back, stopping occasionally to move his thumbs in small circles and then moving down her back further. My wife moaned in pleasure, muffled by the head rest. When he reached the top of her butt he reversed and went back up her back using the same slow, deliberate motions. As his thumbs approached her sides I noticed him dig his thumbs into her sides and wiggle them, which caused a quick squeal from my wife. Mark finished moving his hands up her back and stepped back from the table. “There, now you try.” He said.
I put my thumbs on her back and slid them down the soft silky material of her dress and down her back. I repeated the steps going up her back, this time with my hands father apart, being sure to press my thumbs into her side in a circular motion. When I did I could see my wife flinch, and her moan turned to a giggle, and then a mild protest.
“Hey, that tickles!” she said. Mark and I made eye contact, and I winked at him with a big smile.
Mark replied in a very calm and matter-of-fact tone: “See, that’s why I use the straps, we wouldn’t want you to jump off the table.” As Mark spoke I followed his eyes down her body to her legs, and I knew what was coming next.
Mark moved down the table, stopping near my wife’s knees. “Since her sides are so sensitive, let’s try her legs” he said. Using his thumbs, he gently started massaging the back of her legs using the same motions with his hands and thumbs. He started on her upper thighs, and moved slowly down the back of each leg, his hands enjoying the feel of her soft silky nylons, until he reached behind her knees. When he reached the back of her knees my wife flinched and giggled again.
“Oh my, someone is very ticklish!” said Mark, but instead of stopping he continued to tickle behind my wife’s knees for several seconds. The straps held my wife firmly in place as she squealed in ticklish agony. Smiling, Mark pulled his hands away. “Now, you try.” He motioned to me.
I stepped closer and placed my hands on the back of my wife’s legs. By now my dick was throbbing, and the feel of her silky sheer black nylons only made it worse. I slowly repeated the motion Mark used, gently rubbing the back of her thighs. When I reached the back of her knees she exploded in laughter.
“OMG! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” was all I could make out from her muffled cries.
I kept tickling the back of her knees for several seconds, relishing her laughter. Then, she pulled her left arm from under the strap holding it against her side and grabbed my shirt, yanking it. Mark noticed right away.
“Oh, we can’t have that!” he replied, pulling another strap from his bag. He walked to his side of the table, and gently guided her right arm out from under the strap holding it to her side. He gently lifted her arm, bending her elbow and pushing her wrist behind her back. Realizing what he was doing, she started to squirm and resist as much as the straps would allow. While Mark maneuvered her right wrist behind her back, I was doing the same with the left. Try as she might, there was no way she was going to fight off two full grown men as we worked her hands behind her back, crossed her wrists, and as I held her arms tight Mark securely bound her wrists together with the strap.
My wife protested from the head rest. “Please don’t tie my hands! I won’t grab any more!” she pleaded, but Mark continued tying the strap to her wrists tightly. He then tightened the 4 remaining straps on the table, securing her even tighter. Smiling at me again, Mark moved down to the bottom of the table, where her feet were hanging off.
I walked over, standing next to Mark, and watched as his hand reached for her right shoe. Slightly trembling, he slowly slid the strap over my wife’s heel, and slipped the sling off her foot. My wife began to immediately protest.
“Hey, stop, I don’t like having my feet rubbed!” she barked out in a muffled tone.
Mark stayed silent, admiring the bottom of her foot. He looked at me, and then removed the shoe from her left foot. We both just stood there admiring her helpless feet for a second.
“Nooooooo, come on!” she said, and started wiggling her feet, which only made things more arousing.
Mark reached for her right foot. “Now when massaging, feet, the secret is to use constant steady pressure.” He said, as he slowly pressed on the bottom of her foot with his left thumb. “Otherwise, it could tickle.” My wife immediately moaned.
Mark’s thumb slowly and methodically pressed into her foot, hitting all of the pressure points that provide relief. My wife moaned loudly, you would think she was about to orgasm. As I watched, I realized how incredibly aroused I was watching this stranger having his way with my wife’s stockinged foot. She moaned and squirmed with each touch, thoroughly enjoying Mark’s talented fingers. After a few minutes Mark turned to me. “You try.” He said.
I reached down and started to rub her other foot with my thumb. At first I was careful not to put too much pressure, but as I added pressure she moaned louder. She was in ecstasy, as 2 men ravished her silky feet. I continued to press deeply in to the sole and instep of her foot when finally I could not help myself, and I raked my thumb nail up the sole of her feet. Her reaction was immediate and explosive.
“AHHHHHHHHHHHH” she squealed, shaking her foot violently. “That tickles!” she yelled.
Mark and I looked at each other with big smiles. Mark then did the same thing to her left foot and she shrieked even louder.
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH STOP IT!” she yelled.
“Oh my, someone has extremely ticklish feet!” Mark exclaimed with a big smile. “So I guess we better not do this!” and as he finished his sentence he raked his fingernails down the bottom of her foot from heel to toe and then back up. I did the same to her other foot.
My wife squealed again, now shaking both of her feet violently, and screaming “STOP!” in between fits of laughter and snorting. After about 10 seconds of tickling her we stopped.
“My, it’s going to be hard to finish this massage with her moving around so much.” Mark said as he reached into his case for even more straps. “Hey, you did say you were going to the Liquor store right?” he said to me with an evil grin.”
“Oh yes, geez, look at the time they close soon. What did you want?” I asked.
“I would love a nice bottle of Red. Make it Merlot.” He said, as he started to tie the straps around my wife ankles.
“Got it” I said, as I grabbed my keys off the coffee table. I could hear my wife protesting.
“Wait, what are you doing!! Why are you tying my ankles!! Hun!!!!!”
Mark ignored her protests, tightly securing her ankles together, and then pulling the strap down and under the table and securing it tightly to the table, making her feet totally immobile.
“Hun I’ll be right back, I’m going to run and get more wine for us!” I said from just inside the door, as Mark pulled a dining room chair over to her tied feet. “Mark, I’ll be back in about a half hour.
“HUN!! WAIT!!! DON’T LEAVE!!!” she yelled, muffled by the table as she tried to squirm.
“No worries, I like to take my time on feet!” said Mark, as he pulled various items out of his case like an electric toothbrush, hair brush, pipe cleaners, and a vibrating dremel tool. “
I stepped out in to the hallway, and turned around to get one last look. Mark pulled his chair closer to her helpless feet, wiggling his fingers mere inches from her helpless tied feet. “Are you ready for the rest of your massage?” he asked.
“NO, NO, WAIT, PLEEEEASSSSEEEE, AHHHHHAHHHHHHHH!” my wife screeched as Mark’s fingernails reached the soles of her feet. This time, there was no pretense of a massage; this was nothing but pure tickling. Mark raked his fingers up and down her feet rapidly as she screeched and thrashed as much as she could. I could see the look on Mark’s face had changed, he had an evil smile, his teeth gritted together, and was making mocking laughing sounds. He was thoroughly enjoying torturing my wife’s feet. I watched intently for about 15 seconds before I decided it was time to leave. As I started to turn Mark had reached down with his left hand and grabbed the electric toothbrush. I closed the door, but stood there by closed door for a minute. I could hear the toothbrush come on and then my wife’s pleadings.
“Mark, PLEEEAASSEEEE, DON’T! AHAHAHAHAHAHA!” The toothbrush found its mark on the bottom of her sensitive feet, and my wife went ballistic. I had never heard such sounds come out of her, as she suffered in ticklish agony. Mark for his part was ruthless, and kept the toothbrush pressed up against the bottom of her feet for an excruciatingly long time. After a while her pleading turned to unrecognizable snorts and squeals, with long pauses in between gales of laughter. I listened for another moment or two, and then finally left to go to the liquor store.
I returned about 45 minutes later, 2 bottles of wine in hand, and pressed my ear to the door before entering. There was not a sound, just silence. Curiously I entered, to find my wife sitting on the couch waiting for me. She was still dressed, and her makeup had run from her eyes tearing. The massage table was still in the middle of the room, but no sign of Mark.
“Are you ok?” I asked. “Mad at me? Where is Mark?” I asked, waiting for her to let me have it. She patted the couch and I sat next to her as she held up her empty wine glass.
“That was incredible.” She said in a soft whisper, obviously still winded from the event. I fumbled with the wine opener, popped open one of the bottles, and poured her a glass. She reached over and unzipped my pants and started rubbing my crotch. “Oh, and Mark is coming back in 2 weeks.”
To be continued……?
Thanks for sharing your and your wife's experience here. 
