A Massage with Consequences

My name’s Rebecca. I’m thirty, married to Daniel, thirty-two, and we’re expecting our first child in three months, which is why I’m on early maternity leave. I’m a professional massage therapist, employed by a spa and beauty parlour at a high-end hotel.

I suppose, before I fell pregnant, one might have described me as the kind of woman who turned heads without ever meaning to. I have soft, warm hazel eyes, long, chestnut hair, softly rounded, hips, a narrow waist, and a full, 34D bust, which has now swollen to a 34E, along with my growing belly.

But things are currently very complicated. Leading up to me catching pregnant, Jack, my retired at sixty father-in-law, had been complaining for months about his chronic back pain. His reward for decades in the construction world. He was tall and broad with a full head of grey hair. A nice, kind, rugged man, still married to Susan, Daniel’s, mum.

After a particularly difficult period of pain, I insisted he stop being stubborn and let me help him. It wouldn’t cost him anything, and I just might make a difference. Nagged by his wife and son, Jack finally but reluctantly agreed to it.

One Friday afternoon, on my day off, I set up my home massage table in front of the lit fireplace, prepared the living room with soft lighting and calming essential oils, then changed into the charcoal-grey massage scrubs that I used whenever I did massages’ at home for my close friends and Daniel.

Jack arrived a little stiff and grumpy, seemingly not comfortable with his daughter-in-law giving him a massage. But once I’d reminded him that it was what I did for a living, and left him alone to get ready in private, I returned to find he’d settled face down on the table with the sheet over him.

We talked about the areas that were giving him the most pain, testing different pressures to keep him as comfortable as possible while I fought the knots in his back and shoulders. After about fifteen minutes, Jack was emitting soft groaning sounds, exhaling his joy at the pain dissipating.

I smiled over him, working deeply into his shoulders, lower back, and hips with slow, confident strokes. The fire could be heard crackling when I went quiet to let him enjoy the massage in peace. Once his back was done, I lifted the sheet, and in my soft, professional tone, asked him to turn over for me.

As Jack praised my skills and rolled over onto his back, I couldn’t help but notice he was wearing boxers instead of sports shorts. It wasn’t a big deal. I kept the sheet draped modestly across his hips and adjusted it carefully. But then my eyes inadvertently caught the unmistakable outline in his boxers. My father-in-law had a semi-erection.

Oh… I thought, as a quiet flutter of surprise moved through me.

Despite all the troupes, I’d never noticed a male client become aroused between his legs before during a massage, excluding my husband when I gave him a saucy massage, of course. Not wanting to embarrass my father-in-law, I kept my expression calm and professional, and warmed more oil between my now trembling palms.

I began working on his strong thighs, naively hoping he’d soften if I carefully avoided his groin area. But as the minutes passed and his muscles continued to loosen under my hands, I noticed him growing fuller, thicker… until he was unmistakably, fully erect, the sheet was tenting quite obviously.

A warm flush crept over me. Goodness. He was quite well-endowed, and the sight was impossible to ignore at such close range. I felt a strange mix of professional detachment and a very human, very feminine awareness.

He’s my husband’s father… yet here he is, responding so strongly to my touch.

Part of me found it amusing, while another part questioned why I hadn’t stopped. I glanced up above the fireplace, at the framed wedding day photo taken of me and Daniel under an oak tree, and felt terribly guilty. One for unintentionally giving my father-in-law an erection, and two for still running my hands so close to the thing.

When I worked down his legs, my eyes kept drifting back up to the prominent tent in the sheet. No matter how hard I tried to remain strictly professional, my gaze was drawn to the obvious, thick outline of his erection. It hadn’t softened at all. If anything, it seemed even more insistent, pulsing faintly with his heartbeat beneath the fabric.

Stop it, Rebecca, I chided myself, even as another warm flush spread across my chest. He’s your father-in-law. This is just a normal physiological reaction.

Yet I couldn’t deny the sensations of arousal in my own body every time I glanced at it. The sight was impressive. And knowing I was the cause of it, even unintentionally, stirred something undeniably feminine and wicked inside me. My nipples hardened and I felt warm moisture between my legs.

Jack chuckled, suddenly, when he noticed I was staring at it. “I’m sorry, Rebecca,” he said, his voice warm with wry amusement. “I’ve never had a proper massage before. Clearly my body doesn’t know how to behave.”

“There’s no need to apologise, Jack,” I replied gently, my tone calm and reassuring, but I was blushing bright red. “Maybe we should stop now.”

“Please don’t,” he urged, when I pulled my hands away. “You noticed a few minutes ago… yet you didn’t stop then. I see the look in your eyes,” his voice lowered respectfully. “I swear nobody will ever hear about this, Rebecca.”

Our eyes locked for a few moments. He had caught me looking at him, saw my eyes kept returning to the unmistakable bulge beneath the sheet. Instead of being embarrassed, Jack gave me a confident, knowing smile.

“Rebecca… we both know what’s happening here. I’m not a young man anymore, but I’m not blind either. You’ve been looking at it for the last ten minutes while your hands kept going closer. Or was I imagining it?”

“Jack…” I muttered, heart pounding.

Jack pulled the sheet away completely and dropped it on the floor, then with our eyes still locked, he pushed his boxers down. His cock was thick and solid, the head flushed and glistening at the tip. The sight of it made me gasp and feel like a teenaged schoolgirl.

“Jack…” I whispered his name again, my professional composure cracking.

“Shh,” he said gently, almost kindly. “I know you’re married to my son. I know this is crossing every line. But look at me.” His voice dropped, warm and persuasive. “No one has to know. This stays between us, Rebecca, I promise.”

“But, Jack,” I went to protest.

“Trust me,” he whispered.

He reached out and gently took my wrist, guiding my oil-slick hand slowly toward his cock. My fingers hovered inches away from his thick shaft, mind screaming at me to stop, breath shaky as I stared at his erection, waiting for my touch. I was right on the edge, torn between loyalty, shock, and curiosity.

I stood there frozen for what felt like an eternity, staring at it twitching under my gaze. A bead of clear fluid leaked out of the tip, trickling down the throbbing shaft as arousal pooled inside my panties, and while my wedding photo smiled down at us from above the fireplace. A savage reminder of the life I was about to grossly betray.

It was insane. Jack was my husband’s father, my father-in-law. The consequences of anyone finding out would be grave. But my body had already betrayed me. My nipples were painfully hard and sensitive inside my bra, a slick warmth had formed between my thighs, and before I consciously knew it, my oiled, right hand was moving up and down slowly.

“Oh fuck, Rebecca,” Jack groaned with my hand tight around the base of his shaft. He was thicker than his son. I just about closed my fingers around it.

“This stays between us, Jack. I mean it,” I warned, quivering at the treachery of my own words as I stroked him long and slow from the base to the head.

“It goes without saying,” he agreed, breathing heavily as I twisted my wrist gently at the top, squeezing out more of his sticky pre-cum. It ran down to meet my hand, mixing with the oil, which had already made it smoother.

“This is so wrong,” I whispered, even as my hand kept moving, pumping him with growing confidence. “You know we’re going to hell for this, right?”

“I’m sure God will understand and forgive us,” he chuckled, lifting his head to watch me. “Especially me. Ohh, you’re so good at it. Admit it’s turning you on as much as its turning me on.”

I bit my lip hard, refusing to answer as I shifted my stance, pressing my thighs tight together, trying to ease the desperate aching need between them. I then used both hands. One pumped his thick shaft eagerly, while the other gently massaged his full, heavy balls.

“Oh fuck… your wedding ring is touching my sack. “You have no idea how fucking hot you look doing this.”

“Well, savour it,” I teased, giggling. “Because it’s the only time I’m going to do it,” I said, removing my left hand from his balls, stroking faster with the right one, trying to make him cum.

“Once is all I need,” he groaned, glancing at the wedding photo above the fireplace. “You really were breathtaking that day. I remember watching you walk down the aisle in that stunning lace dress and thinking… look at those big tits… that sexy cleavage… oh fuck… let me see them, Rebecca. Take your top and bra off.”

“No! This is all I’m doing,” I told him.

“Don’t pretend to be modest now,” he chuckled. “Take your top and bra off. Let me look at them when I cum.”

“No. This has already gone way too far,” I replied, feeling conflicted.

“I get it, but look at us right now. Your nipples have been poking hard through that top since you wrapped your hand around my cock. It’s too late for modesty. Just let me see you. You’re so fucking beautiful. Let me admire what my son gets to enjoy every night.”

“No. I’ll get rid of this issue I’ve caused, you, but I’m not doing anything else,” I laughed, half wanting to show him.

“Come on, Rebecca. Just the top then. At least let me enjoy looking at your cleavage. It’s not like I haven’t seen it before,” he taunted me, grinning.

“Fine,” I said, shaking my head slightly in amusement.

“Thank you,” he breathed as I released his cock from my grasp and pulled my scrub top up and over my head, exposing my soft, heavy cleavage straining against my black lace bra.

“Oh fuck…” Jack sighed. “Now the bra.”

I glared at him.

“Please, just let me see them this one time. Give an old man the best day of his life. You’ll have me shooting like a fountain in seconds,” he chuckled.

He had a point. My arm was aching, and I refused to jerk him off with my left hand, out of fear of getting cum on my wedding ring. With a deep sigh, I reached behind my back and unclasped my bra, exposing my full, 34D breasts to my father-in-law, nipples stiff and flushed. His hungry stare made them tighten even more.

“Jesus Christ…” Jack groaned.

“Happy now?” I moaned with a smile. Something deep inside me enjoyed it really, showing him my big tits. I took him in my hand, stroking again.

“Damn right I am,” he beamed, reaching to cup my bare breasts, which had become very tender the past two days.

His palms were warm and calloused. He squeezed them gently then more possessively, his thumbs rolling my taut, sensitive nipples. I released an involuntary gasp as my back arched, pushing my breasts into his firm touch.

“You’re tits are perfect,” he breathed, kneading and lifting them, pinching my nipples while I pumped his cock with long, slick, urgent strokes, needing to make him cum before it got worse.

The erotic tension was almost unbearable. My pussy was soaked, my breathing ragged, and Jack’s eyes were devouring every inch of my exposed chest as I continued to pleasure him. We had crossed so many taboo lines.

“You like what my hands are doing, don’t you?” he smirked. “Admit it.”

“Just hurry up and cum,” I laughed, too embarrassed to admit his hands felt good and exciting on my bare breasts, squeezing, lifting, teasing my aching nipples. I feared there was more ahead.

“Suck me, Rebecca,” he whispered.

“No. Stop asking for more,” I laughed, looking down at his thick, veiny cock, still glistening with oil and pre-cum as it continued to pulse in my hands. My mouth watered despite the voice in my head screaming that it was all wrong.

“Stop hesitating and just do it,” he growled, pulling me downward so my upper body was leaning over the table.

“Jack!” I shrieked, laughing again.

“Be a good girl and suck my cock. You know you want to,” he growled, one hand pulling on the back of my head, the other underneath me, grabbing my tits. “Open your mouth and suck it.”

Held down, my warm breath exhaling at the head of his cock, I wilted again and parted my lips, taking him into my mouth and sucking with little protest.

“Oh… fuck. That’s it. Suck my cock nice and deep, Rebecca,” Jack grunted, tightening his grip on me.

His cock was so thick and hot inside my mouth. I could taste his salty pre-cum as I slid my lips down his shaft, taking as much of him as I could. I sucked slow and gentle, swirling my tongue around the head while my hand stroked from the thick base.

“That’s it… good girl,” he murmured, voice thick with lust. “God, you look so beautiful with my cock in your mouth. Those pretty lips wrapped around me. Fuck, I can’t believe this afternoon. You could teach Susan a thing or two.”

As I worked him, I began to moan and bob my head up and down. The wet, obscene sounds of my mouth filled the room, mixing with the crackling fire.

“I’ve always refused your massages because I knew they would turn me on,” he confessed. “You’re so beautiful, Rebecca. Yes, I’ve jerked over you lots.”

His praise made me whimper around his shaft. I took him deeper, relaxing my throat, trying to please him. My breasts pressed against the side of the table as I leaned over him. He took full advantage, groping, kneading, and occasionally twisting my nipples hard, making me moan around his cock.

Just as I was finding a perfect rhythm, sucking him deeper, stroking the base with my hand, moaning softly around his thick shaft, expecting him to flood my mouth with warm cum at any moment, Jack suddenly gripped my hair, and gently but firmly, he pulled me off his cock, which was covered in my saliva.

“Not yet,” he rasped, breathing hard. “I’m not finishing like that.”

He sat up on the massage table, swung his legs over, and stood up in one swift motion. Before I could fully process what was happening, he stole a kiss, thrusting his tongue inside my mouth. He grabbed my arse as he claimed my mouth, then my bare breasts, squeezing them roughly as I whimpered into the kiss, aroused.

Then, without a word, he turned me around and bent me over the massage table, pressing my chest and stomach down onto the warm surface. My breasts squished against the leather as he yanked my scrub pants and panties down, exposing me completely from behind, and slapping my buttocks.

“Jack… wait…” I tried to reason with him, facing the fireplace, looking up directly at my wedding photo. Daniel’s smiling face on our wedding day stared back at me while his father stood behind me, naked and erect.

But Jack ignored my plea and stepped closer, gripping my hips tightly. I felt the engorged, bulbous head of his cock press against my dripping folds. He rubbed it slowly up and down, coating himself in my wetness, teasing my swollen clit with every pass as he nudged at my entrance and spread my swollen lips. I was aching in need.

“Please…” I whimpered, broken.

Jack leaned over me, his chest against my back, his mouth right next to my ear. “Tell me you need it, Rebecca,” he growled, still rubbing that fat cock of his along my slick pussy. “Tell me how much you want and need my cock.”

I moaned desperately, pushing back against him. The sight of my happy wedding photo, me in white lace, so innocent and in love, stood next to the only man I loved, while I was bent over naked, dripping for his father to take me, shattered the last of my hesitation.

“I need it…” I gasped, my voice shaking with lust. “Please, Jack… I need your cock inside me. Please fuck me…”

With a low, satisfied groan, Jack pressed his cock firmly against my opening, ready to push inside as my wedding photo bared witness to my utter surrender. I let another man, a sixty-year-old man, my father-in-law, grip my hips with both hands and thrust deep inside me, to the very hilt.

I cried out sharply at the sudden stretch as his fingers dug into my soft flesh. He was definitely thicker than his son, and the fullness made me desperately needing him to fuck me until I exploded on his beautiful cock.

“Fuck… so tight,” Jack spat, starting with a few long, gentle strokes before he pounded me with hard, deeper, relentless strokes, making the massage table creak beneath me as his hips slammed against my buttocks.

“You wanna know what I really thought on your wedding day, Rebecca?” he grunted, ploughing my pussy, his voice rough and honest. I couldn’t stop imagining bending you over just like this and ruining my son’s beautiful bride. Susan even told me off for staring at your tits,” he chuckled.

“Uh! Uh! Yes! Fuck me!” I cried out, his words having a wild effect on me as he slammed harder and deeper inside me.

“I smiled and kissed you on the cheek like a proud father-in-law. But inside I was thinking about you in your bridal lingerie. How much better your pretty face and big tits would look covered in my cum. I fucked Susan so hard that night, imagining it was you, Rebecca.”

His brutal honesty should have horrified me. Instead, it sent a dark, filthy thrill racing through my body. I couldn’t bear to look at the photo. I turned my head to the side, pressing my flushed cheek against the table, eyes squeezed shut as he railed me from behind, fulfilling his fantasy.

Yet, discovering he thought like that, fucked his own wife while fantasising about me, added to the already crazy thrill. The pressure kept building as he fucked me mercilessly, calling me his sexy, tight, and very naughty secret.

I whimpered helplessly, my orgasm rushing closer with every brutal thrust. I was so close… dangerously, shamefully close. The conflict and pleasure were tearing me apart. And I was about to orgasm harder than ever.

Jack suddenly grabbed a fistful of my long, chestnut hair, and yanked my head back forcefully, arching my back.

“Look at it,” he demanded, his voice dark and commanding. “Look at your wedding photo while I ruin you.”

I had no choice. My eyes were forced open, staring directly at the large framed picture above the fireplace, me in my beautiful white wedding dress, glowing with happiness, my husband’s arm wrapped lovingly around my waist. Oh, Daniel. I’m truly so sorry.

Jack’s other hand reached around and roughly grabbed one of my breasts, squeezing it hard, fingers digging into the soft flesh. He pinched my nipple sharply as he continued pounding me with deep, punishing strokes. The combination was overwhelming.

“Oh my god… yes!” I cried out.

“You like that, Rebecca? You like having my thick cock deep inside your pussy?” he grunted, pounding me.

“Yes! I’m gonna cum! Harder!”

The intense pleasure mixed with the sheer taboo of the moment shattered me completely. My pussy clenched violently around his thick cock as a devastating orgasm ripped through my body. I came harder than I ever had in my life. My walls spasmed and fluttered around him as waves of blinding pleasure crashed over me.

My mouth fell open in a silent scream, then released a broken, shameless moan. My entire body shook and trembled, slick juices coating his thick shaft as my eyes stayed locked on that happy wedding photo through the entire orgasm, watching myself smile innocently while my father-in-law fucked me senseless from behind.

“Fuck, Rebecca,” he snarled.

He slammed into me one final time, burying himself as deep as possible. His cock swelled and pulsed violently inside me as he erupted. Thick, hot ropes of cum flooded my pussy in powerful spurts, filling me completely. He kept thrusting through his own orgasm, grinding deep, making sure every drop stayed inside me while he groaned loudly in raw satisfaction.

Jack’s hand never left my hair or my breast. He held me in place, forcing me to take every inch of his cock, every drop of his cum, until he was spent. Even then I still felt him twitching inside me. I knew we would be forever changed by what we had just done. When he did finally pull back, he was a different man. A man caught between deep satisfaction and creeping guilt.

“We should’ve stopped when you suggested it,” he said quietly, putting his clothes back on while I stayed resting over the table, his warm cum running down the inside of my thigh. “But I’m not sorry it happened,” he admitted, almost whispering. “I’ve wanted you too much for too long.”

“It’s done now. Just leave, Jack,” I said, my tone calm but devastated.

“As you wish,” he replied, leaving me.

I cleaned up in a daze of guilt before showering thoroughly in a state of stress. By the time my husband came home, the living room looked perfectly normal. I greeted him with a warm smile and a loving kiss, all while his father’s cum still faintly leaked into the fresh panties I’d put on. I never knew a man could produce so much sperm.

“How did my dad’s massage go?” Daniel asked nonchalantly.

“He moaned throughout it,” I said, which was technically true. I don’t think he’ll want to do it again. Said he was in more pain than when I started.”

Me and my husband laughed as he took me in his arms, but an ice-cold chill ran down my spine, chilling me to the very bone.

“I’m horny,” he said, grinning. “Let’s go upstairs and see if we can make that baby this time.”

“Not tonight,” I replied, trying to hide my guilt.

“Come on, babe. You know two days before ovulation puts you at peak fertility… and have I got a load ready for my sexy wife.” Daniel took my hand and led me upstairs to the bedroom.

“Just go slowly. I want you to make love to me,” I said, as he climbed on top me, rubbing his cock along my slit.

“Oh fuck, you’re already soaking,” he groaned, easing inside me…

Who’s baby is growing inside me right now? Your guess is as good as mine.