Lorenzo’s Massage Oil
Chapter Four
That same night, Dominique was at home, in bed. She had a sheet wrapped around her body and was covered in sweat. Surrounding her was a collection of recently purchased sex toys, and she had soaked the bed beneath her with the juice of what at last count had been eight intense orgasms. With a quivering hand she reached for the glass of water next to the bed. She drank it all down—cumming was dehydrating work!—then pulled the sheet up back to her nostrils.
She took a deep delicious sniff of the sheets, which still held residue of the oil. That marvelous, wonderful massage oil that Charlie had brought to her the day before. Normally she would take the sheets from work straight to her washing machine, but she had brought these to her bed, and had for the second evening in a row wrapped them about her body so she could smell them. Mixed in with the smell of the oil was the scent of their commingled sweat and cum, and it made her light-headed and delirious with pleasure.
It had been a difficult day for Dominique. Ever since she’d last seen Charlie, she’d been riding waves of arousal more powerful than anything she’d ever experienced in her life. The night before, after their session, she’d returned home and diddled herself to sleep, only to find herself drawn to masturbate all over again from practically the moment she awoke. She’d held off till she got in the shower, but once there as she began to rub the soap over her tits she’d felt compelled to rub them and tweak her nipples. Her hand drifted between her legs, and before long she’d pressed herself against the tile wall, her fingers flying over her throbbing clit until she’d added her juices to the warm shower water.
The whole time she’d been thinking of Charlie, or to be more precise his cock. Again in her mind she could feel it, see it taste it, and its smoothness in her mouth and her pussy kept flashing through her mind the rest of the day. It had affected her work—though she’d kept the worst of it contained. She’d averted her eyes from the dicks of her male patients and the delicious delicate folds of her female clients’ pussies, though she now found each glimpse undeniably enticing. And while her bisexual tendencies were no surprise to Dominique—she’d had lovers of both sexes since college—she still found herself somewhat terrified of her new insatiability. She ended each session with a quick trip to the bathroom for a splash of cold water. Twice, she’d had a bit more time and she’d locked the door to the bathroom for a full-out panties-down finger-fuck session for temporary relief.
On her way home from work, she swung by Babeland on Capitol Hill, a women-friendly establishment known for their tasteful sex toys, and ran up almost $200 on dildos, vibrators, and clit stimulators. She had tried to find her solitary vibrator the night before with no luck, and she couldn’t face that happening again. Once she got home she pulled them all out of their packages, and before she could even make dinner she was on the couch, trying out the Pocket Rocket and the large green vibrator as soon as she could get the batteries in. She’d cum twice before she could even think about dinner. She ate a microwaved meal quickly then gathered her purchases and crawled into bed.
After some serious experimentation, that she could achieve her best results with a combination of a dildo inserted in her pussy pushed slightly upwards by bunching the sheets, and a small vibrator rubbed up and down her clit. All the time in her mind she was replaying the events of the previous day—the feel of his cock, his fingers, the groans from him as she swirled his dick in her mouth, and more than anything that marvelous golden oil that made their bodies slide up and down each other in an aromatic lust. She called his name out several times, but at the moment of orgasm it was the same thing she shouted every time: “More! I want more!” Finally her fingers became too tired to work anymore and she collapsed into a sleep filled with dreams of thick hard cocks, dripping pussies and delicious fragrant oil.
She barely got out of bed at all on Saturday. She stopped herself from calling Charlie a dozen times, mostly by fantasizing about their session on Monday.
On Sunday, she managed to get groceries purchased and a pair of videos rented. But half an hour into the fluffy romantic comedy she’d gotten she realized she was yearning for Kate Hudson and Matthew McConaughey to pull each other’s clothes off and fuck already. She didn’t want romance, she wanted fucking. She switched off the TV and headed off to the computer. There had to be some porn that was worth watching, she thought. Particularly porn featuring women getting massages.
There was, it turned out, and she spent the next six hours watching it, soaking her office chair as she fantasized about being the woman in the various videos, being oiled, then massaged, then fucked in every way imaginable. And a surprising amount of it, even the rough stuff, even the videos where the girl was slapped and spanked and pulled around like a sex toy—it really turned her on. Use me, Charlie, she thought to herself. Oil me up and use me however you want.