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Sometimes I feel the connection deep within me

Magic Hands
A special massage makes me reconsider my feelings for him.

It was my second date. There was a connection. He felt it but was not sure I did.
I am Asian, and often must fight off American men. They do find me attractive, which worked when I was younger for free drinks and a nice dinner, but I never let it get beyond that.
Back to the date. We had a Hot Pot Chinese lunch based on my recommendation. It was all you can eat and eat we did.
He was going to take me home, which was an hour’s drive. I suggested a rest before the drive since overeating did make us drowsy. We went back to his place.
Before lunch we spent an hour at the mall. I have soft skin without the use of moisturizers. Surprised to hear that, he took me to the bath store to get me some skin care products.
We got to his place, and I laid on the couch. He sat on the other side and placed my feet on his lap.
He began his massage.
He asked what I thought about us as a couple.
“Honestly,” I said, “I like you, but I don’t know if I feel anything special.”
“Thanks for your honesty,” he said.
With that, he placed some skin softener on each foot and began rubbing it in. First the tops then the soles and soon between each of my toes. I closed my eyes and began to enjoy the attention.
I wore a knee length denim overall with a summer blouse under the jumper’s shoulder straps.
He had warm hands and a gentle but firm touch. He increased the pressure on areas of my feet, and I was in heaven.
He stopped.
I almost panicked since I wanted the pleasure to continue. I opened my eyes for a peek and was relieved to see that he was getting more lotion.
His hand moved to my calves. I expected more relaxation.
What I got was excitement.
I had just told him I liked him but nothing special. His magic hands were changing that.
Kneading my calf muscles was soothing and erotic. My nipples were rock hard. I needed to control my breathing, so as not to betray the excitement I was feeling.
I wasn’t sure whether to have him stop and politely thank him or allow him to continue.
His hands moved just below my knees, and I moved my hands to meet his to stop him.
I didn’t, couldn’t; so, I raised the skirt of my overalls to expose my thighs. I kept my eyes closed. I was sure he could see my white panties. His treat for the pleasure I was feeling.
An invitation for more…
I am fifty-two years old, and these hands had me as wet as I have ever been as he caressed my inner thighs.
A stifled gasp escaped. He knew what I was feeling and that I wanted more.
I lost control. It had been years since my last orgasm. It was getting close, and I wanted to cum. God, it had been so long. I pulled off my panties, embarrassed that I hadn’t shaved.
He was caressing my thighs and slowly moved up. Soon he would be where I wanted, but he took his time, left and right of my pussy, but not touching it. I spread my legs.
No man had ever made me cum with his fingers and I wasn’t sure if he could. He started to play with my pussy lips. It was good but not getting me to where I wanted to go. He moved a finger inside and started an in and out motion.
I grabbed his wrist and breathed, “Slower.”
His finger slowed and probed gently. He didn’t touch my clit, but I knew I didn’t want him to. I wanted him to find my G-spot.
I didn’t think I had one.
Then he touched something inside me. I flinched. He touched it again, my whole body stiffened. He slowly rubbed the spot. I arched my back and opened my legs. The faster he rubbed, the closer I was. He was strumming me.
I came harder than ever before. I screamed in pleasure. He kept on and my orgasms came in waves. I screamed louder and grabbed my thighs to spread my legs wider. Another orgasm and another scream.
Finally, I rolled on my side. Completely spent and completely satisfied.
I must reconsider, “I like you, but I don’t know if I feel anything special.” He pleasured me like no one ever has…