My Husband's Boss Gave Me a Massage

My husband lay drunk in the next room while his boss slid his arm around my waist.

His burning hands wandered up my thighs as he whispered against my ear, "Who's better - him or me?"

...

I'm Selina, and I've been married to David for six months.

He's perfect in every way, except for one issue - he never touches me intimately.

Being completely inexperienced in bed, I've always had this burning desire, this ache that I couldn't share with anyone. My only relief came from pleasuring myself...

"Selina, I've got a business dinner tonight. Don't wait up!"

Another voice message from David - another night of "networking."

Ironically, even on our wedding night, he was glued to his laptop working until dawn.

I peeled off my lacy negligee and matching lingerie, lying naked and frustrated in bed.

David was my first everything, and I had no idea if this was normal for married couples. All I knew was that my young, sensitive body craved attention.

Even the slightest touch could make me wet - just a hug, a simple caress...

Restless and aroused, I called David: "When are you coming home?"

"Soon, soon..." David slurred, clearly drunk. A deep, masculine voice in the background asked, "Wife calling you home?"

It was obviously someone senior - his voice carried an unmistakable air of dominance.

I held my breath, listening as David chatted with the mystery man. Then he excitedly told me, "Selina, why don't you grab an Uber and join us? This place has amazing massages! Didn't you mention your neck was bothering you?"

Massage? I wondered if this was code for something more intimate.

I hung up and rushed to get ready, my mind racing with thoughts of catching my husband at some underground establishment.

The whole ride over, my imagination ran wild. When I arrived, my unease must have shown on my face.

"This is Mr. Owen," David slurred, "brilliant guy, he's been my mentor!"

Across from him sat a man in a perfectly tailored suit and gold-rimmed glasses, younger than I'd expected, exuding raw sexuality and power from head to toe.

David was sighing contentedly as a male masseur worked on his shoulders - the technique did look professional.

Slightly relieved, I greeted Mr. Owen: "Hello, I'm David's wife, Selina."

Maybe I imagined it, but this handsome executive definitely looked me up and down, his alpha male presence unmistakable, making my thighs quiver beneath my skirt.