Sven, Don't Touch my Ass

It was a Friday evening. Both teens were out with friends and for Paul and me it was Netflix and chill time. Only we skipped the Netflix part and had headed straight to the bedroom where my husband had morphed into his alter ego, Sven the Swedish masseur. Sven is one of the main reasons I keep Paul around. Well, that and his talent for making martinis and margueritas. On this particular evening after another week of workouts and long runs my body was sore and in dire need for the ministrations of his strong hands and his fingers kneading the knots from my muscles. Of course, it was no secret that Sven's massages invariably included extra services which, in a reputable spa setting would be unavailable, require a huge tip or get the masseur fired. I counted myself very fortunate to have Sven residing in my house even if his shoulder rubs on the occasions when he would not be expecting sex were too cursory and not up to the standards I knew he was capable of.

On this evening though, he knew he would be rewarded if he provided me with good service, and so he was fully committed. While I undressed down to my thong I watched him lay a big pool towel on the bed and bring the jar of coconut oil from the bathroom vanity where it lived. He filled my ceramic oil warmer, placed it on the nightstand and lit the tea candle below it to melt and to warm it. I lay down on my tummy across our king-sized bed with my legs far enough apart so Paul could kneel between them. He reached over to the jar of unmelted oil, took a dollop of it, warmed it between his palms so it melted then slid his hands over my back and shoulders, spreading the warm slippery oil all over and then beginning to massage me, gently at first, while soft music played in the background.

I am quite sure that my Literotica readers are not particularly interested or aroused by a description of a husband giving his very appreciative wife a much needed deep tissue massage. This is not the forum for that. You want to know about the juicy parts that came later so I will skip most of that and get right to them.

For about a half an hour he massaged my back, my neck, my shoulders, my arms, my hands and my glutes but was disciplined enough to not touch me in a sexual manner. We didn't talk other than him asking if I liked what he was doing at any one moment or me asking him to concentrate on a particular spot. It was perhaps his best massage ever. I was fully relaxed and then I felt him slide off of the bed and stand beside it. My eyes were closed and the next thing that happened is I felt him dripping oil on my feet, up the backs of my calves and thighs and my bottom, then spreading it around. Once he had it distributed the way he wanted it he took one foot and began to massage it quite thoroughly. Then he moved to the other foot and did the same thing. After my feet he moved to my calves, taking his time to knead my muscles. Then he went to my thighs, starting at the back of them then moving his strong hands to to the outsides then to the insides, taking his time, getting closer and closer to my pussy. but not touching it. I knew where this was going. I didn't want the massage to end but at the same time I started to feel a tingle down there and my clit made its presence known. Involuntarily I found myself pushing my crotch into the mattress. He continued to massage my inner thighs. His fingertips brushed the edge of my thong and I let out a little moan.

A few strokes later he paused long enough to pour oil on my ass which I felt seeping into my crack. He climbed back onto the bed and knelt between my parted legs. His hands slid over my slippery ass cheeks. More deep massage. More erotic arousal for me. He was pushing down on me pressing my mons into the bed, pulling my cheeks apart, coming tantalizingly close to my tight little rear hole which was definitely out of bounds. I felt my vagina releasing its nectar.

Then he paused. "Lift up," he commanded and when I did he peeled my thong off and dropped it on the floor. "Lift up more." This time he took a bed pillow and slid it under the towel. I sank back down. Now my ass was sticking up. It made me feel both vulnerable and sexy. Of all my features I am most proud of my tight bottom which I work tirelessly to keep that way with countless squats and lunges. He is most definitely a lover of cute little asses too which is fortunate for me because my tits are nothing to write home about. Then he trickled more liquid down my crack. I felt it run over my anus and down to the lower end of my pussy lips.

Sven had reached to transition phase of the massage. His hands still worked the muscles of my glutes but we were most certainly heading into the happy ending part of his ministrations. He worked his massage magic on my ass which was now liberally coated with warm coconut oil.

I have to pause here to explain the ongoing tension between Paul and I about anything anal. I basically thought it was dirty and unhygenic and I freaked out any time he would touch my asshole, which he would try to do any time he had the opportunity such as the current situation or if I was on top of him in a 69. I would tell him no and slap his hand away. My husband, though is nothing if not persistent. He would wait until I was reaching the point when I couldn't not cum and press his finger in my ass as I orgasmed. I would be a liar if I tried to tell you it did not make my orgasms even more intense but I just had such a mental block about it. The thought of him touching my shit was just too incredibly gross. So I just said nothing about it afterwards and pretended it hadn't happened and it did nothing to increase my sexual pleasure.

Back to the story.

Paul kept massaging my bottom with his strong hands. He dug into the muscle and pulled my cheeks apart stretching my hole. That makes my clit throb almost as much as having my nipples sucked on. By now I was grinding against the pillow. I needed him to play with my vagina and my breathing gave away my state of arousal.

"Baby, do my pussy," I groaned and his hand slid down and cupped my labia. One finger parted my lips. Between my juices flowing and the oil on his hands it slid easily along them and pressed against my inner lips which opened up for him. His finger pressed into my vagina and was soon joined by a second one. His other hand reached beneath me and he rubbed my now very hard clit. This was heavenly.

I tilted my hips up to give him greater access as he finger fucked me. "Make me cum with your hands and then fuck me hard." I am not sure if it was a command or a plea but that was what I wanted right then. What I needed.

Paul's fingers wiggled in my wet cunt. I felt him rotate his hand so he could rub my G-spot. I was getting closer and closer but then I felt I felt a finger pressing on my asshole. My well oiled dirty little back hole.

I reached back and slapped his hand away. "Paul no! It's too dirty. I don't like it."

He grabbed my wrist and held my arm out to the side as he continued to finger fuck me. He leaned over me and whispered commandingly in my ear.

"Liar! You love when I finger your ass. It makes you cum harder than ever. I'm not stopping and maybe I will fuck it tonight. I'll bury my cock in your ass and shoot my cum deep inside you."

I felt a moment of panic. I felt helpless to stop him and I groaned, "No! No!" but he didn't stop. He rubbed his oily finger on my tight little rosebud and pressed the tip into it. To my surprise and chagrin I found myself responding by pushing back to allow it to enter. I resisted the urge to tighten my sphincter and his finger slid past it deep into my virgin ass. I felt so dirty but so turned on. Both my holes felt full of his invading digits. I have no idea of the mechanics but he was fucking my cunt, fucking my ass and rubbing my clit all at the same time. And to make it even worse he was growling in my ear, telling me what a dirty little slut I was. Telling me I was a nasty little anal whore for him. Telling me he was going to fuck my slut ass with his hard dick and make me scream for more.

And scream is exactly what I did. I came so hard. I buried my face in my pillow and screamed through one of the strongest orgasms I have ever experienced. I felt my cunt and my ass clamping down on his fingers with wave after wave of contractions. I had the pillow locked between my teeth or else I would have alerted the whole neighborhood that I was having a massive orgasm. I kept on and on until the waves finally lessened and eventually stopped. Paul gently pulled his fingers out of my holes. My ass felt stretched and it was not an unpleasant feeling at all. It lingered for the whole evening as a reminder of how dirty I am.

I rolled over and looked up at him then down at his crotch. His cock was rock hard. "You need to cum now," I told him. "How do you want to do it? I can't cum again. I'm totally orgasmed out." I felt a bit guilty. I think he really wanted to fuck my ass but realized it would be better if we were both going to cum from it. We ended up in a simple missionary. As he fucked me I told him I was his whore and one day I was going to give him my ass. Telling him how much I wanted to feel his cum shoot in it sent him over the edge.

Surprisingly, it was not until a few weeks later that I gave him my anal virginity and that my friends, is a story of its own.