The Hands of My Healer
written by:
ValleyGoddess

There is something about him. I can't really explain, but I will attempt to do so. See, I have lived nearly 12 years in and out of physical therapy, for injuries, surgeries, and whatever abuses my extracurricular activities would heap upon my young body. Most of my adolescence years, all of my teens, and even into my 20's have found me under the care of doctors, surgeons, trainers, and therapists. Always a guy working with, be it by trade, or by fate. I have never given any of them a second glance, only because most of them were gaunt and geeky. I didn't even give this latest one a 2nd glance when I first met him. Handsome, and charming. But, truthfully, I thought he was gay, with his shorts and sock less legs, perfectly muscled and tanned. He was always manicured, clean-shaven, with a crisp polo on everyday I saw him. With a slightly dorky grin about him, and salt and pepper grey lining his temples, I never gave much thought to his prowess sexually. No way could a straight man have such meticulous care for his physique and appearance. As months and months have gone by, and this man works with me in a private room, always the door open a crack, to erase the hint of impropriety, our conversations have led me to the conclusion that he is very straight, very professional, and more delicious than I could have ever imagined. My therapist, we'll call him "Ben" for the purpose of this tale of part truth and part fantasy, has me face don on a table 3 times a week, in a medical gown, and always I have to remove my bra. As time has passed, my bra resting on the chair has always been a source of the embarrassed cough or what not from Ben simply because I own nothing other than satin, lace, or silk, and it's resting there on a chair, in plain sight. I refuse to wear the army issue "over the shoulder boulder holder" bras my size of 40D would require of me. With full breasts and a firm body everywhere else, why not look good?

For some reason or another, the topic of his skill manipulating my back, shoulders, and arms brought about the query if he was a masseur. Imagine my surprise when he slipped me his private business card, showing his license and status as a massage therapist. I called that weekend and arranged a session at his place. He lived nearby, in a lovely area, and I drove to his home, unsure of how this would go. You see, even at my age in my mid to late 20's, I had never experienced a professional full body massage. He ushered me back into the area of his home where a full studio was set up, guest bathroom, soaps, towels, therapy books and candles strewn about. The room itself had a massage table set up, and I was informed to disrobe to whatever comfort level suits me. Since I have no inhibitions about my body, save for my sense of decency, I actually stripped down to everything save for my thong. That strip of satin was the only thing "protecting" me. Now, Ben was a consummate professional. He went through the motions of this massage, and it was lovely. Mind you it was August in Los Angeles and I was sweating up a storm. Not the finest moment I felt. This session took and hour. He finished, I left, and nothing came of it.

Now, come a few months later, and I feel the need to treat myself. Again, I call upon Ben to be my savior. It's late fall, the temperature is crisp, and I have lotioned up my entire body after a shower to prepare for a man's hands to roam every centimeter of my feminine frame. Again Ben opens the door and invites me in. He has the soft music playing, like before, but only not like before, we've gone from general "mood" music, to Sade, a little more sensual, and far more appealing. I disrobed again, familiar with the drill, and lay on the table, sating thong in place, with the soft skin of my firm ass glowing, waiting for Ben to take me to a special place, as I've paid for an even longer session this time around. This time, my attraction for Ben has gone from a minute curiosity, to a full blown sexual attraction. For these many months, Ben has cared for my pain, worked with me to heal my body from the damage of injuries, preparing me for the trauma of surgery to be performed in the following days. Ben entered the massage room, and closed the door. I enjoyed this, as it only provided me with a greater sense of privacy and intimacy. He began his work, using the oils and lotions to soften his hands. They laid on my back, allowing me to breathe in and out as I accustomed to his presence there. Slowly and gently, he began to work his fingers into the tense areas of my back and shoulders. We chatted, as the strains of Sade crept in under the door and through the walls. I'll admit, my body began the slightest hint of movement, "dancing" to the music.

Desiring Ben as I did, I allowed my responses to his manipulations become a little more honest. He began his work down the small of my back, working the top of my ass, kneading and pressing the tension and stress away. I took a few deep breaths in and out and just melted even further into the table. I could hear his heart beat as he stood over me. My body must've been a smooth shiny shape, resting in this room illuminated only by the autumn sun, slick with the oils that covered me. He worked his fingers into my thighs, touching and caressing my legs as he worked his way down. Be it reflexology or just a kinky turn-on, he worked the bottom of my feet, and I almost jumped at the response I was feeling. A warm sensation filled me between my legs, and suddenly felt more amorous. I was being excited sexually, without one sexual advance from Ben.

Now, He instructed me to turn over, exposing my soft creamy breasts as they reached towards the ceiling. I was feeling so feline and fabulous, I must've purred like a kitty as he started from the bottom. I kept my eyes closed, but felt every move, every step, every breath he took. I was aching for this man, to touch me where he never has in the near year he's been caring for me as my therapist. As he approached the top of my thighs, I caught my breath. My breasts arched upwards and I felt my nipples become stiff. My whole body became this vessel to receive any order, any command, and any touch that I was starving for. I paid him for this therapeutic and relaxing experience, but it was he who was in control of everything. I was pleasantly helpless under his touch, and it was so beautiful to just let go and allow him to take me to a special place for just a heartbeat in history.

I settled into his hands as they worked and moved up my thighs. Then came the moment I have ached for. His thumb slips inside my sating panties, and glides the length from my womanhood to the curve of my hipbone. In, up, and out again. It was an unspoken gesture, but carried such a heavy question. It basically said "May I"? My response, just as silent, was to part my lips, catch my breath, softly shift as I lay there, and let me breath out slowly and sensually as I nestled into his grasp. It was all the gesture he needed. This time, both hands hooked into my panties, and as he reached the top, Ben hooked another finger around the top, and slowly slid my panties off me. I was there before him, vulnerable, naked, desperately lonely, and so ravenously hungry for him. My eyes were still closed, and I waited to feel what would come next. I felt his hair tickle my breasts as he leaned down to lay a kiss on my abdomen. He was standing to my left, and his left hand lay on top of me, just below my lower abdomen. Again, his gesture asked, "May I"? And I answered my shifting my hips up to him ever so slightly. His hand, slick from lotions and oil, slipped between my thighs, and his thumb flicked my clit. A slight moan of pleasure escaped my lips, and I realized what I felt for this man. Pure unadulterated lust was cheap compared to what I felt for Ben. It was the type of passion and desire that accompanies an appreciative trust. This man has helped cure my broken body. He has held my broken form in his hands as a patient to be cured. Now he holds me as a woman to be enjoyed. I trusted him with my pain. Now I trust him with my promise. The promise I give when I share my body with a man I have so much to love and thank for.

His thumb rubbed over my pussy back and forth. I parted my thighs in response, and he slid his strong fingers into my pussy, where they manipulated themselves inside me, exploring every crevice. I was wet from these manipulations, and I rested my hand on his, encouraging him to explore even more. His kisses moved upwards and a tongue flick to my already aroused nipples elicited a gasp of delight. That gasp was followed by more as he licked and suckled my nipples, nibbling as he moved around my breasts, back and forth he went. I was electric with the pleasure he was creating, but missing what I had desired still. I opened my eyes, looked up at him, and brought his face towards mine. I gazed directly into his face, and I caressed his lips with mine, thanking him for a year of healing, and this moment of passion. I breathed into him my thanks and wants, telling him everything I had dreamt of for months, in just this brief moment. I nibbled at his tongue and lips, and fell into in his arms.

He sat me up so he could hold me, and I took advantage of that moment. I grabbed at his shirtwaist, and he lifted his arms above his head as his shirt fell to the floor. His body told the story of his many years of cycling, adventures on 2 wheels that took him through the hills of our city, nestled in the valley outside the City of Angels. Not an ounce of body fat on him, only mature muscles of a disciplined man, living a strong, clean, healthy lifestyle. He was an educated man, a committed man, and a man I desired on so many levels. I couldn't process them all, but someday I will. For now, I took in his form, and began kissing each inch of his chest, moving my lips over the muscles, the tanned skin, the occasional scar that comes standard when living for extreme sports. I could feel him close his eyes and let his head fall back as I held his arms in my hands and moved my mouth over his body. My hair was now to tickle his chest, and mine were the hands feeling into everything. He stood me up, as my ass slid off the table. He cupped the curves of my cheeks and he brought my body closer to his.

Ben just held me there, then let go as his fingers slid over my ass, up my back, over my shoulders into my neck, coming to rest in my hair, where he pulled my head back and looked into my eyes. He kissed me hungrily, biting my lip. I felt his right hand press down on my shoulder and I knew what he wanted. I knelt down and came eye level with his shorts, the crotch straining to release an erection that must've been waiting for what felt like ages. With Ben's body a statue of 6'3" toned athletic perfection, I could not wait to see what his cock looked like, or tasted like. I was licking my lips as I unzipped his shorts and found a slight tuft of dark curly hair greeting me. His shorts fell to the floor and his bare feet stepped out of them and kicked them to the side. His hard erection, a specimen of at least 8 ¼ inches, thick, perfect in shape, cut, and throbbing with the blood pulsing throughout the veins under this smooth skin of his. It warm, so much so I could feel his heat even before I touched him. I looked up at him. He was looking down towards me with a look in his eyes that was filled with both pleading and passion. I didn't need another moment. I looked into his eyes with a look of "for you, always", and took him into my mouth. He is the one who is gasping now.

Head thrown back and to the side, I grab his ass cheeks in my hands and I slide my tongue over his head, licking him up and down, sliding his perfect shaft down my throat. His muscled ass is tight under my hands, and I dig my hands even deeper, gripping the cheeks and setting the rhythm as I made love to his cock with my lips. Over and over, I slid him in and out of my mouth. Tears escaped my eyes. Not from any pain, but from the absolute release I was experiencing, feeling as I did, as I pleasured Ben. I had so desperately wanted to be with him on this level, for so many months now, all I wanted to do was to feel him in absolute abandon and ecstasy. I sucked and sucked as if my life depended on it. He bucked forward and back, never hard, never hurting me, but with such strength, I could only imagine how long it had been since a woman has touched him this way.

I wanted to say, "this is my gift to you", but instead, he begged me "wait, wait, not yet". I could feel his body close to climax. He didn't want it yet. He gripped my arms and gently lifted me to my feet. He looked me in the eyes, and then held me. He brought me to his chest, closed his arms around me, and said, "Let me". In a perfect movement, he lifted me off my feet in a Juliet carry, and laid me back on the massage table. He left the room, for only a moment. I didn't understand why, until I heard the music of Sade again fill the home, with a base and volume that set the tempo for what was to come. He retuned with 2 glasses of water and ice, and laid them next to the table. He brought one to me as he closed the door again. Droplets of water dribbled down my breasts as he tried to feed me the glass of water. The cool water excited my nipples and they stood at attention. Ben lowered his face to lick the trail of water up my chest and met my lips again. He laid me back on the table as a therapist would, and never losing gaze with me, mounted the table. He lay by my side, and began to caress my curves, making me feel beautiful and taking me away to a special place. This time, I didn't want to go, only because where I was at this moment was more perfect than any dream could have ever been. I touched his face and looked into his eyes. I lowered my hand and felt his cock still hard and straining for attention. With a kiss and a whisper, I pressed onto his chest so he would lay back on this table. I moved above him and straddled him, one leg resting either side of him. I looked down to see the form of this man who had always been a little larger than life to me. I was in awe of this moment and what it meant to me. Perhaps other patients have felt the same way as I have, and perhaps Ben has always known, but it couldn't diminish the absolutely magic it held for me in that moment.

I gave him the touch and the look that begged the question "May I"? as I sat up on him. He nodded yes, touched the side of my face, kissed my hand, and held my hips as I began. I moved above him, finding his cock, and gently guided it to the lips of my pussy. My clit was perked with anticipation, and I was still wet with desire. In a solid, fluid, gesture, I slid onto the entire length of him, and my lips and body melted around him. Ben caught me as I slid down onto him and gently collapsed onto his chest. We paused for a moment, and then he began. His years of cycling and his knowledge of the human body afforded him the ability to shift and move with precision perfection and strength untapped. Up and down, he slid his cock into me as he held my hips. I rested my hands on either side of him, looking into his eyes. We would only lose contact by sight when I closed my eyes in a moment of pleasure. Up and down he would slide, making me wetter with each stroke. I sat up and buried him deep into me. I shifted my hips back and forth and felt his cock grow even more inside the tight walls of my pussy. I tensed and relaxed, taking advantage of the many years I had spent in therapy, learning how to walk again, how to control MY body after so many injuries, and take control of what I could do inside.

My clit was grinding against the tuft of hair he possessed, and we locked hands in mid-air. He went up and down. I went back and forth. His cock was pulsing inside me as he probed my inner treasures, hitting my G spot and drawing out of me cries of passion and appreciation. The autumn sun had set behind the hills and the room was awash in an amber color you can only find in treasured sites throughout the region. It set our bodies in a wash of red, glinting off the mix of lotions and oils, making us slick and supple to the touch. We moved together towards a perfect climax. My pussy was dripping wet as he thrust into me, filling me with his cock. I gasped as he thrust harder and harder into me, making my body burst with small orgasms, as the fever built to a frenzied pitch. I called out Ben's name, begging him to cum with me. I was close, and I cried with abandon and pleasure. Ben's face bore his moment, as he thrust high, lifting me off the table, his cum spurting into me, mixing with my juices and flowing out onto the table. We settled back down as I collapsed onto his chest. The beating of his heart was so loud. I could feel it beat against my cheek, and I just whispered "shhh", stroking the side of his face, and hair, relishing in the peace and vulnerability of the moment.

Here was Ben, this man I had seen first as somewhat of a sad soul, then my comfort, then my hero, my healer, and now finally, my lover. It was a journey in perceptions, of Ben as a healer and man of great gifts. And of me, from a broken, pained creature, to a beautiful woman capable of so many passions and treasures. I lay there in his arms, as we both rested. I was there, in the hands of my healer. I never want to be any where else.