My husband, Harold, and I have been married for almost four years. This is the second time around for both of us. My first husband was satisfied with maybe twice a month of slam, barn, thank you ma’am lovemaking, and that was the pits. I really learned to love my vibrator during my first marriage, let me tell you.

Just so you know, Harold thinks I am the sexiest woman around. I am small, only five-three, and weigh about 100 pounds. I have brown hair, medium length, and very fine features. Harold and I have tried almost every possible sexual variation, having gotten many of our ideas from your magazine. But what I want to tell you about is what happened the other day; it was new for both of us.

It was morning, and we had just finished a wonderful lovemaking session. Harold was running his nails up and down my back, which is something he knows I love. As I purred with approval, he suggested that I go to a professional masseur and really get worked on. I thought that was a great idea, but then we came up with an even better one. Why not just pretend a little bit, and maybe I could end up with more than a massage. Harold and I decided that when I felt like a massage, I would just tell him I had a massage appointment and what time the appointment was for. I was to treat him not as my lover and husband but strictly as a masseur. It sounded like great fun.

The following Saturday, we were sitting on the living-room couch when I said, “Harold, I really have had a tough week at work and feel really tight. I have made an appointment for a massage at eight tonight.” My husband smiled, as did I when I saw him adjust his cock in his pants.

Not much was said about my massage appointment during the day. We just treated it as if I were going to the manicurist. By seven o’clock, though, I was really excited about what lay ahead. At eight I went up to our bedroom, stripped down to my panties and wrapped a towel around my breasts. I then lay face-down on our king-size bed, pretending it was a massage table.

In a few minutes Harold entered, introduced himself and asked me if this was my first visit to the massage parlor. I said yes, and then he explained what he would do and how relaxed I would be when he was done. I could see the outline of his almost erect cock through his shorts. I was hoping for more than just a massage, but I didn’t know if this particular parlor offered anything special. I would have to just wait and see.

Harold, my masseur, began very slowly, working on my neck and shoulders, gently at first and then with a little more pressure. Very carefully he removed the towel and started to work on my back, avoiding the sides of my breasts and my panty-covered ass. After about twenty minutes of this teasing treatment, Harold began to work on my legs, going all the way down to massage each and every toe. I shifted a bit on the bed and touched the outside of my panties. Harold tells me all the time that I get wetter than any woman he has ever known, and, boy, was I wet now!

He kept working on my legs, carefully avoiding my sodden panties. My breathing was becoming erratic. Each time his hand got close to my pussy, I wanted him to touch it so bad. And he wouldn’t. After fifteen minutes, Harold moved up to my back and began to scratch me. This is one of the biggest turn-ons there is for me, and he knows it. I began to feel an orgasm building.

Suddenly he stopped. “Are you more relaxed now?” he asked. I nodded. I was about to tell him that it would be cruel to leave me there, so close to coming, when, in a very quiet voice, he asked, “Would the lady care to avail herself of our special service?” I immediately said yes. Then he told me that some of his lady customers liked to be touched in more private areas. He asked me if I was interested. “Absolutely,” I replied.

Harold, playing his part to perfection, asked me to turn over onto my back. As I did, I saw that he was fully aroused, too. He immediately began to massage my upper body, rubbing and kneading my breasts and sides. My nipples were standing erect, and once again I could feel the heat rising in my thighs. His hand slowly moved to my panties.

He began slowly again but quickly picked up his pace. I wanted to come so badly; his fingers were driving me crazy. Suddenly he slipped two fingers inside my panties and spread me open. My clitoris jutted out and he started to flick it softly with a finger. With his other hand he removed my drenched underpants, all the while toying with my clit. I could feel it now more than ever; all I could focus on was the mounting pleasure.

Then it happened, without notice. Suddenly I felt the wetness of Harold’s mouth on my clit. I moaned and my legs tightened around his head, my stomach quivered and I was swept away into that very special world of pure pleasure.

Several minutes later, as I relaxed and savored my orgasm, I realized that I wanted more. I wanted my cunt filled with cock. I wanted it badly. I just didn’t know how to ask, and I hoped my masseur would offer it to me. Harold started to lightly touch my legs again, then my breasts, then my thighs. I was in heaven. And then he stood up.

Eyes closed, I could hear the sound of clothes being removed. I opened my eyes to see him standing there, naked and waiting. I leaned over and started to kiss his cock and run my tongue up and down the shaft, and it started to grow larger and larger. I ached to have him pounding into me, his beautiful cock buried in my cunt. Harold asked, “Would you like the really special treatment? Would you like me inside you?”

All I could do was moan. Quickly Harold slipped into bed and coupled with me. Faster and faster he fucked me, just the way I wanted it. He put his hands under my ass and pounded away at me. And then it happened. I could feel him start to shudder, then shake, and I worked my hips faster and faster. Our screams of joy filled the bedroom as we came together. His sweet come filled my cunt, and I held him so tight. It was a magic night.

My life with Harold is fantastic. He says I am the world’s greatest lover, and I think he is. There is nothing better than feeling loved every day — and having someone who helps you “relax” all the time.