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Hello and welcome to Under Pressure! This story is already fully written, I will be releasing it here in a few chunks. Those of you also reading In The Mirror may recognize a couple of names. Jay and Lucy are the same starting personality, just… a bit different circumstances. This series will feature a loving couple, mental influence, transformations, and massages. At the same time, I tried my best to stay as uplifting, positive, and wholesome as possible throughout. It was a story I realized I couldn’t find elsewhere, so I wrote it myself.
The first chapter is a bit shorter than the others, but there is plenty to enjoy here.
“Yes, YES, right there! Harder!”
I should probably explain. It wasn’t what you’re thinking, not yet anyway. Despite having my sexy wife naked on the bed, all that was happening was a massage. My name is Jay, hers is Lucy, and we were just an ordinary pair of empty-nesters. Maybe a bit young, we got started… early. Ahem. So here we are, late 40s, three kids off at college or on their own, newly moved into an apartment in the city, and I was apparently giving my wife the massage of her life.
Lucy never did quite believe me when I said how much I loved how she looked. Not even after more than two decades of a fairly active sex life and constant reassurance. Standing adorably small at 5’1″, with a formerly fit and skinny frame that got a little bit of padding after three kids. Dark tan skin owing to a drop or two of Native American somewhere in her family history, nice hips, and boobs that got promoted to barely-C about eighteen years ago with her last pregnancy and had not quite managed to keep it. It was her eyes that would hook you, though. Bright blue, with hints of light hazel that looked like a starburst. She once told me that the first time I described them to her was the first time she was attracted to me. I replied then that LOOKING at them was the first time I was attracted to her. Works out. Cute little nose, dirty blonde hair that hid most of its gray fairly well, and relatively thin lips complete the picture, and the brain behind them was nothing to sneeze at. Former section lead for a university’s IT support shop, she spent just a little too long out of the game taking care of our kids. Despite this, she still kept well-read on the topics and could hang with the best of them.
Also naked, lightly oiled, and moaning in ecstasy from the massage I was applying to her back after a week of moving. Needless to say, I was tenting my jeans.
Ah, yeah. Then there’s me. Mister average. Also in the IT field, though in my case I taught it at a local community college. About 5’9″, hair that was more salt than pepper these days, a bit overweight. I don’t look into mirrors much, not when I can look at my wife instead. She tells me she likes my voice and my eyes (baritone and brown, respectively). I just feel like I got lucky and hooked her before she realized she was out of my league. One piece of me was above average, though, the piece that was currently making it a bit difficult to move around as it tented my jeans. I’m not going to claim to be hung like a porn star, but she has never once complained about that.
My İstanbul Escort hands had been traveling up to the left and right of her spine, down in that delicious dip before it started coming back up to the shoulder blades, when I hit a point that was definitely resisting more than it should. Leaning into it prompted the above cries of pleasure, and with a sudden release it gave way. From the way she was panting, and the way her skin was flushed, more than the point on her back had released. The distinctly sweet smell of sex, despite the fact that no such thing had occurred, confirmed it. That was new. I’d been giving her massages for 25 years, knew her body probably better than I knew my own, and never once had she orgasmed from that alone. I’d have to remember that one.
“How… did you DO that?” She was still panting.
“Not sure, love. Just found a point, you know?”
“Do you need to grab a sharpie and mark it forever?” She looked like she was only half joking.
I laughed a bit. She still looked serious, so I got serious. Naked, panting, oiled wife will do that to you. “Tell you what, I think I’ve heard about pressure points and spots like that. Want me to do some research and see if I can try it out on you later?”
Her eyes lit up. I hadn’t gone into today planning to go research acupressure, but the way she was reaching for my pants went a long way towards convincing me it was a good idea. When my pent-up penis almost smacked her in the face on release, the single minded intensity with which she took me into her mouth and went to town would have gotten me to do just about anything.
That had been early afternoon. She kept me busy enough for the next hour that neither of us felt like cooking, nor going out. After ordering pizza and breaking out the fancy plates (AKA paper towels), we were ready for bed. She settled in and passed out with uncharacteristic speed. Me, though? Unlike our normal overnight cuddles, I opened up my laptop in a chair by our bed and got to some serious research.
Just trying to plug “pressure points” into a search engine wasn’t particularly helpful. 50% massage tips that I largely already knew, but with a mystical-sounding writer. A lot of the rest was media references. Yes, I know that Naruto has several characters who use them, so does Slay the Spire and Avatar. Not particularly helpful, though it reminded me that I hadn’t watched the latter in a bit. After a lot of sifting and digging, plus some nifty Google Dorks, I hit something that looked more promising.
It definitely helped that the model they used for the overlay was a busty, nude woman. Sue me, I’m faithful, but I have a Type. She had dozens upon dozens of points marked over her body, one of which looked to be right where I found this day’s entertainment on my wife. The notes said they tended to be easier to feel when someone was stressed out, tense, or tired. Just my luck that I found the one centerline on the spine, just when my wife was physically spent from shoving the couch around and hauling boxes with me.
The notes also went onward to the mystical new-age fusion of traditional Chinese medicine, crystal energy, body meridian Bayan Escort energy flow, and other such things. I could be fairly certain that my wife’s emotional state wouldn’t suddenly induce a permanent change of her physical form after a good massage, like the site was claiming. I just wanted to help her de-stress. I also wanted a repeat of today’s performance, so I took a lot of notes on where to locate the twenty or so points for maximum pleasure and relaxation.
They looked distributed more-or-less symmetrically around the body. Front and back of the torso, a couple by the knees and soles of the feet, two in each hand, more up by the shoulders and neck, and one by the back of the skull. It would have been a heck of a hunt to try to find them all with any precision personally, but I had the magic of the Internet along with some hippy commune to thank for shortening this into a one-night research binge.
I had managed to forget that it was a Sunday evening that we had just gotten through, and losing several hours to research when I had an 8 AM class to teach the next day proved to be a bit unwise. I got to bed, snuggled with my wife (the process of her wiggling into place almost got me going again), and passed out for what felt like half a second before my alarm went off at 6 AM sharp. The coffee pot was my best friend and ally that day, even if my commute to work was half of what it had been before I took some leave to get moved. That said, I still had a smile on my face as I packed my work laptop up and got to the classroom in time to get set up. Thankfully, early enough to realize that I had a giant figure of a naked woman on my screen, and thus now projected on the big display, BEFORE my students got there.
I was fortunate that I had the various scripts for the day’s lessons already saved. Python might be “easy” as languages go, but it still demanded a certain amount of precision that the combination of fatigue and distraction would not have otherwise permitted. I just couldn’t keep my mind off of my wife, her reactions, and how my notes were hopefully going to affect her that night. My first class on Tuesdays was after noon.
Between classes, though, I had a thought. If I was going to do this properly, I needed to tweak the map a bit. Gave me an excuse to pull up nudes of my wife, too.
The model the website had used was, as expected, proportioned slightly differently than the lovely person who I was going to be using these on. I had ninety minutes and photoshop access, so I got to work. Layer 1: my nude wife. Layer 2: transparency of the website model with the points and flows specified. Start morphing the model’s outline to match the wife, and see where the lines went. As it turned out, they were laid out just a BIT differently than expected. This was especially true for the little details of the hands, which were way off from where my notes originally had them. Also around the breasts, the area was not quite as prominent on my wife as on the model, a little bit more sag and a little less size. I printed off the new reference and saved my work JUST in time to shut it down and get to teaching my last class of the day.
I Eskort was still distracted for some reason.
When I got home that afternoon, I immediately noticed a few things. First, Lucy had been hard at work in the home, hanging pictures and (from the looks of the empty bags in the kitchen) hauling groceries. Second, the house smelled AMAZING, so she probably had dinner ready on top of all of that. Third, she came almost literally running to jump into my arms the second I came in the door.
Fourth, her boobs felt distinctly larger pressed up against me, and they felt higher up than the day before. My chin wasn’t quite as far down resting on her head, either. Was she standing straighter after yesterday? Possibly. “Hello to you too, love! How was the day?”
She looked up at me then with a smoldering look in her eyes. Between that and the makeup I could now see she had taken the time to apply, I knew it meant one thing and one thing only. The words out of her mouth confirmed it. “I haven’t been able to get my mind off of you or out of the gutter all day. Beef stew is on the stove, and after we finish that you’re giving me another massage before I jump you. Got it?”
I felt my eyes open WIDE as I nodded eagerly. Lucy hadn’t been this forward with me in fifteen years, and I was not going to pass it up. The stew was good, better than I could remember recently, but my mind was not on it. At all. We both finished up and practically raced to the bedroom, the dishes forgotten on the table and a trail of clothes strewn behind us. All kinds of bits of her were bouncing delightfully as she practically dove onto the bed, settling facedown and ready for me to massage her once again. I grabbed the oil and did my best to remember my notes as I got started.
I wasn’t perfect. Blame the distraction, and the fact that about a quarter of my blood seemed to be trying to occupy my penis instead of my brain. In addition to the point along her spine (which she enjoyed nearly as much as the night before), I followed the lines of her muscles upwards to her shoulders, finding the two I had marked there. I worked on them both until she was ready to burst, then bore down pressing both until the resistance gave way.
She wasn’t quiet this time either, loudly orgasming under my hands. And again, when I found the ones in her feet. And a third time, after I rolled her over and pressed deep into her swollen breasts for a pair buried deep underneath. I ended up between her legs to reach these, and she wrapped them around me and pulled me into her the second she felt that I was in position.
Her fourth orgasm of the day came as I pounded into her, feeling her tight around me like in my memories of our honeymoon. Her fifth came when I did, blasting what felt like pints of cum into her. I collapsed on top of her after that, sweating and panting hard. For her part, Lucy had an afterglow that was only a step and a half short of physical light. I rolled onto my side, but after a few moments she sprang up, seemingly fully energized. While I was still catching my breath, she already had her underwear and a bathrobe back on and went back out, seemingly set on finishing up what we had abandoned in our haste to get to the bedroom.
I got up more slowly a minute or two later, pulling on some pajamas. As I left the bedroom to go help out, I had one random thought. There was no makeup smudged on the bed after all of that.
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