An Open World: The Massage

This is first in a series of stories based on one couples experience with open relationships.

“The heart is not like a box that gets filled up; it expands in size the more you love.” - The Ethical Slut, Dossie Easton and Janet Hardy

I’m alone in the apartment for the first time since we signed the document.

Sophie left this morning for her training seminar work sent her on. Three days of boring seminars, compulsory team building exercises with strangers, and whatever else women do when they’re away from their boyfriends who suddenly have permission to fuck other people.

She kissed me at the door, long and slow, then pressed her forehead to mine and said, “Have fun if you want to. Really. Just tell me everything when I get back.” Her eyes were bright, excited, maybe a little scared. Mine felt the same.

The rules are still pinned to the fridge like some perverse wedding vow:

1. Full disclosure before and after.

2. Protection always.

3. No overnight stays without checking in.

4. Veto power if either of us feels weird.

5. No secrets.

I’ve read it so many times simply because I never thought this paper would actually exist.

It’s Saturday afternoon, March 28, 2027. Sunlight slants through the living-room blinds in sharp gold bars across the hardwood floor. My laptop is open on the coffee table, cursor blinking on an email I was supposed to write to a client three hours ago. Instead, I’m staring at my phone, thumb hovering over Mia’s name.

Mia Torres. The woman who once carried me three miles down a muddy trail when I twisted my ankle on a group hike four years ago and still teases me about it. The woman who, six weeks ago over beers at our local brewery, looked me dead in the eye and said, “If you’re not lying and you both are actually considering opening things up, my table’s always free. No drama, no strings, just fun.”

I thought she was joking. Sophie laughed. I blushed like a teenager. But the seed was planted. It was an open invitation to us both.

The night prior, Sophie forwarded me a screenshot of her and Mia’s text thread. Mia had sent a photo of her having just got out the shower. white linen towel, with enough slack to require just a little bit of imagination. Caption from Mia:

“I’m in need of a massage if either of you are good with your hands.”

Sophie’s reply: “I’m in Vancouver tomorrow for a few days but I can assure you, Jake is phenomenal at giving massages”

Mia: “Oh really? That could work. Tell him to come over tomorrow night then” she replied with a devil emoji attached.

Sophie: “Will do. This is … kind of our first time doing this. I’m glad it’s with you x”

My cock twitched reading that when Sophie shows me. I swallow. My heart is doing something stupid in my chest.

That night I couldn’t sleep, like a kid on Christmas Eve. It was late. I check the time - 12:03am. I wanted to be cool but my cock was perpetually erect and my mind was full of images of hypotheticals with the one friend i’ve fantasised about since we first met. I hide my phone under my quilt, not to wake up Sophie who is fast asleep next to me.

Jake: “So how does this work? I make you dinner over candlelight?” I write with not one but two laughing emojis.

She responds almost immediately.

Mia: “How about you just bring wine and fuck me with the bottle?”

I am convinced I may be going into cardiac arrest the speed in which my heart is pounding. All the blood in my body feels like it has accumulated into my long, thick cock.

Jake: “I thought you’d never ask. Although I want to feel how wet you are with my tongue first”

It was bold and nerves prevented me from pressing send immediately. I’d never flirted like this with another woman outside of this relationship. So why was it so instinctive?

Another photo arrives. She’s in bed, laying on top of her covers with her legs spread in a POV shot. She’s holding an uncapped bottle of baby oil, and a slow thread of liquid dripping onto the inside of her exposed thigh. Her hand is out of frame except for the fingers. They’re long, strong, nails short and unpainted. The droplet hangs suspended, about to fall.

Mia: You’re in charge Jake. Clothes stay on until you say otherwise. We can talk the whole time if you want. Or you can rub this oil into every inch of my body.

I stand up. Pace to the kitchen. Pour a large glass of water, and I only take two sips of it. My boxer shorts are so tight. I take my cock out and begin stroking at the picture she sent me in the kitchen which is only illuminated by the moonlight creeping through the blinds.

Whilst tugging on my cock I think about how many nights I’ve lain awake imagining exactly this: someone new, someone safe, someone who already knows me. Someone experienced.

I text back.

Jake: I’m wanking in the kitchen thinking of being inside you.

Mia: Good boy. Save your load for me. Be there at 6pm. Door’s unlocked. Come straight to the back room when you get here. I’ll be waiting.

Good boy.

Fuck. Loosening my grip and walking back to bed felt like an impossible challenge, but I didn’t want to spoil the suspence.

The next morning, I woke to Sophie rushing and getting the last of her bags packed for the three-day conference. She had packed as if she were gone for the month. Then she stops in the doorway before jumping in her taxi.

“Have fun if you want to. Really. Just tell me everything when I get back.”

I reassure her that everything will be absolutely fine and i’ll constantly be in touch.

“Rule Number 1 Baby! I’ll check in before and after, I promise”. She gave me one last hug and then waved through the window of the Black Toyota Prius, as it accellerated out of view.

My heart is a menace again, beating at what felt like 4x it’s natural speed. This is going to be the death of me.

I run inside, lock the door and strip in the bathroom like the clothes are on fire. The shower is fast, scalding. I soap everywhere twice, paying extra attention between my legs, under my balls, the crease where thigh meets groin. I trim the hair at the base of my cock with the little scissors we keep in the drawer. Nothing drastic, just neater. Neater feels important.

When I step out, steam is still curling around the mirror. I wipe a stripe clear and look at myself. Thirty-four. Not bad. Lean from weekend runs, a little soft around the middle from too many takeout nights. Cock already half-hard, thick against my thigh. The scar above my left eyebrow looks more pronounced when I’m flushed.

I pull on dark jeans, a black T-shirt with the logo of Led Zeppelin, and my converse. No underwear. I tell myself it’s for comfort. It’s not.

Work goes slow and i’m whatsapping both women all day, to the point I’m not sure I get any significant deliverables done.

12 minutes after Mia’s last text I’m in the car, engine running, palms damp on the wheel. Google Maps says eighteen minutes to her place in the next town along. I make it in fourteen.

Her building is the same red-brick walk-up it’s always been. Third floor, no elevator. I climb the stairs two at a time, pulse loud in my ears.

The door is open, just like she said.

I push it wider.

Soft music drifts out of a speaker. Something with brushed drums and a lazy saxophone. The living room is dim, candles flickering on the bookshelf. No sign of Mia yet.

I close the door behind me. Lock it. Habit.

“Back here,” her voice calls, low and easy.

I follow the hallway past framed black-and-white prints of bare shoulders, arched spines, hands on skin. The door to the spare room is closed but her room is cracked open. It dawned on me that I had never been in her room before.

I step inside.

Mia is standing beside her bedside table, plugging her phone on charge in a short black silk robe that stops at mid-thigh. Her hair is loose, blonde strands framing her face. No makeup except a faint gloss on her lips. She’s barefoot. The robe is tied loosely enough that I can see the inner curve of one breast, and a shadow between them.

She smiles. Her lips curl in a way that is knowing but kind.

“Hey, stranger,” she says. “I’m glad you came.”

“I am glad you invited me”, I say. My voice is rougher than I expected.

“Good.” She steps closer, close enough that I can smell the faint coconut of her shampoo under the sandalwood. “A little birdie told me you were good with your hands.”

She doesn’t touch me yet. Just looks into my eyes longingly, closing the gap between us to just a few centimeters.

“I think you’re going to find out” My voice is controlled but soft. Our fingers brush and then intertwine as the intimacy builds naturally. “You look incredible” I say, as her cleavage tempts me away from her hazel eyes.

She leans in, whispering softly in my ear, “I am yours,” followed by a soft kiss on my cheek. I tilt my head slowly to meet her eyes once more, and in that moment, there was only her.

Our lips press together, as my thumbs brush over her cheekbones, and our mouths open and our tongues rub together. Slow at first, but the tempo increases, as does the passion. It was a kiss that I thought would never come. She kissed different to Sophie. There is an intensity and a want to her rhythm that I never knew I needed. We only stop when we waltz our way to the edge of the bed. She sits softly on the edge, and then intentionally falls back, her arms spread wide and her hair fanning out wild against the sheets.

In the corner of my eye, I see two bottles of massage oil, numerous massage tools, and toys that I can guarantee were not for this specific type of physical therapy.

“You’re bad …” Mia’s fuck me eyes make me pause, “and you’re getting your massage. I’m going to check in with Sophie as per our agreement. When I come back, I want you ready for me.” My words, uncharacteristically direct and domineering. Mia responded well to it, biting her lip.

Before I was about to leave, her lips parted as if she was about to say something, but instead she lifted her legs and took her black lacey thong off in one smooth motion. For a split second, I saw a glimpse of freshly shaved pussy, as if just to tease it. I’ve never been so turned on in my life as my right hand undid a button on my jeans, releasing the tension built up there, but only just a fraction. Before my fingers even travelled to my zip, she leaned forward and gifted me her underwear. The look she gave me at that moment I would never forget. I saw a side to my friend I’d never hoped to see before. A side to her that I knew she only reserved for her most intimate moments. Lust.

A pause. Unintentional. Both of us fighting to keep our composure. It was clear that we demanded each other. My grip tightened on the thong as I kissed her slowly on the forehead. I could feel her breath on my stomach as my top rose slightly. Part of me considered calling Sophie there and then. To ring her as Mia’s tongue playfully flicked the tip of my cock, but I knew this was my one shot to get this right. That this opportunity could lead to a whole world of experiences greet lit by an open relationship.

I tried my best to snap back to reality and retreat to the corridor, calling Sophie immediately. She picked up in less than 2 seconds.

”Hey Baby! How’s it going?” she spoke with a lump in her throat.

”It’s going really well thanks! We are just setting up for a massage and chatting. It’s kinda weird but feels comfortable,” I say with Mias panties clutched between my fingers, making my cock throb.

”Aww, I’m glad it feels natural. I was afraid it was going to be too weird for you both,” Sophie said with sincerity.

”Not at all! I feel pretty in control, and it doesn’t even need to lead to anything tonight. It’s just easing our way into this new lifestyle. Both you and I,” I said, trying to convince her, knowing that this is everything I’ve ever longed for and more.

“That’s very sweet of you. It’s kind of exciting in a way. Is that wrong?” she asked, her emotions alight.

“Not at all. Thank you for being so cool with this.” I said softly, trying not to hurry her off the phone so I could collect my prize.

“No, thank you. I have been speaking to a guy on tinder all day” Her words should have come as a shock, but oddly, nothing. No jealousy, no surprise. Just this deep feeling of compersion I’d never recognised until then.

“No way! That’s incredible. Are you guys going to fuck?” I asked, almost not in control of my own words anymore.

“If you two do.” It was an invitation.

”Okay …” I said, my words soft and delicate. We had been together for 12 years and speaking to her now was like we were communicating when we first met. “I am so in love you”

She squealed in joy, “I love you so much! Now, go have fun! Call me later to let me know the details” she said before we cutely said our goodbyes.

I put down the phone and waited for a second as I tried to regulate my breathing. Then I pushed open the door to reveal the angel lying out before me.

I walked in, and the bedroom door clicks shut behind me with a soft finality that made the air feel thicker. The music from the living room speaker fades, and this moment feels private.

She’s face-down now, exactly as I told her to be. A thin pillow props her head to one side, dark blonde hair spilling across her naked back. Her arms relaxed at her sides, palms open as if she’s already made peace with surrender.

The black silk robe is gone. Discarded in a puddle on the floor beside my feet. She’s completely naked, skin glowing faintly from the candlelight, the subtle curve of her spine dipping into the small of her back before rising again into the generous swell of her ass. Her legs are slightly parted, just enough that I can see the soft shadow between them, the invitation she left when she slipped off that lace thong and pressed it into my hand.

I stand at the foot of the bed for a long moment, simply looking. Breathing her in. The room smells of her. That coconut shampoo that I’d get a whiff of when we were at the brewery together with friends, but now there’s the faint fragrance of massage oils waiting on the side table.

My cock is already straining hard against the denim of my jeans, the lack of underwear making every throb feel like I’ve been dry humping something.

I peel off my T-shirt slowly, letting it drop on top of her robe. Then the jeans. Just the zip as the button had already been done and I feel the fabric sliding down my thighs. My cock springs free the moment the waistband clears it, thick and flushed, a bead of pre-cum already glistening at the tip. I kick the jeans aside, and then socks last. Naked now, just like her.

The relief of being undressed is instant. No more constriction, no more pretending this is casual. Just us two and not a single boundary.

I climb onto the bed, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of her calves. I don’t touch her yet. I just hover there, letting the anticipation build. She knows I’m watching. Her breathing changes. Deeper now, slower, and more deliberate.

“It’s just us now” I say, voice low.

“Mmm.” Her hum vibrates through her back. “I can’t believe this is happening,” she says as her thighs begin to shudder.

I reach for one of the bottles on the nightstand. It was a dark amber glass, labelled in elegant script. ‘Warm Massage Oil - Scented’. I unscrew the cap and pour a generous stream into my palm. The liquid is already body-warm; she must have set it near the candles earlier. I rub my hands together, as they glide and gleam with the slick liquid edging through my fingers.

Then I lower my palms to her shoulders.

The first contact draws a soft sigh from her. My thumbs press into the tight muscles along her neck, working in slow circles. She’s strong. Years of climbing and carrying people like me down trails, but right now she lets every knot melt under my fingers. I slide my hands down her back in long, deliberate strokes, thumbs tracing either side of her spine, palms spreading the oil in glossy trails. Her skin drinks it in, turning sleek and glistening in the low light.

I move lower. Over the dip of her waist and across her succulent hips. When I reach the top of her ass I pause, thumbs sweeping inward, brushing the sensitive crease where cheek meets thigh. She arches her back, just a fraction, pushing back toward.

I pour more oil directly onto her lower back, letting it pool in the dimples above her ass before sweeping it downward in broad, slippery strokes. My hands glide over her cheeks now, kneading firmly, parting them slightly on each pass so the oil trickles between. She moans quietly, almost throaty and her legs part another inch.

I shift forward, straddling her thighs now, my cock brushing the backs of her legs. It’s remarkably erect and hot. Slick with a little of the oil that’s dripped down mixed with the bead of pre-cum that stubbornly hangs from my tip. The contact makes me hiss through my teeth. She feels it too; her hips lift in a tiny, greedy roll.

“Jake…” Her voice is husky, muffled against the pillow. “Don’t tease forever.”

“I’m not teasing,” I murmur, leaning down so my chest presses to her oiled back, skin sliding against skin. My mouth finds the shell of her ear. “I’m soaking this up. Every second. The way you feel under my hands. The way you smell. The way you’re already so fucking wet, I can see it shining between your legs.”

She shivers. A full-body ripple that makes her ass press harder against my cock.

I slide one hand between her thighs from behind slowly. No rush. My fingers glide through the oil and her own slickness, tracing her outer lips without parting them yet. She’s soaked, swollen, and hot. When my fingertips finally brush her clit she gasps, hips bucking.

“Fuck… yes…”

I circle slowly, barely touching, letting the oil make everything impossibly smooth. My other hand keeps working her ass, kneading, spreading, occasionally dipping a finger along her crease to tease her entrance without pushing in.

She’s trembling now. I find her small, involuntary shudders endearing. I can feel her pulse against my fingertips, fast and needy.

I lean down again, kissing the back of her neck. Then lower, along her spine, tasting salt and oil and her. When I reach the small of her back, I bite gently, just enough to make her arch harder.

Then I flip her.

She rolls easily, boneless from the massage, eyes heavy-lidded and dark with this need for me. Her breasts are flushed, nipples tight peaks. Oil gleams across her stomach, her thighs. She looks like something carved her.

I settle between her legs, palms on her inner thighs, spreading her wider. She lets me, eagerly. Her pussy is glistening, lips parted, clit swollen and begging.

I don’t dive in yet. I just look. I’m mesmerised but know a more experienced man wouldn’t feel this in awe. I see everything. I notice everything. The way her chest rises and falls. The way her fingers clutch the sheets. The way she’s looking at me like I’m the only thing in the world.

Then I lower my head and drag my tongue from her entrance to her clit in one long, slow stroke.

She cries out, sharp, surprised, then melting into a long moan. Her hands find my hair, not pulling, just holding. Anchoring.

I lick again. Slower this time. Circling her clit with the flat of my tongue, then flicking the tip. Oil and her taste mix. I slide two fingers inside her without any resistance, curling them upward while my mouth stays on her clit.

Her hips lift off the bed. “Jake- Fuck, right there…”

I give her what she wants. Steady rhythm. Fingers thrusting, tongue relentless. Her thighs start to shake around my ears.

When she comes, it’s sudden and hard, her back arching, and a broken cry tearing from her throat, walls pulsing around my fingers. I don’t stop until she’s whimpering, oversensitive, tugging me up by the hair.

She pulls me over her, legs wrapping around my waist. My cock notches against her entrance. She kisses me in a way I don’t think even she has ever kissed anyone.

“Inside,” she breathes against my mouth. “Now. Please.”

I push in slowly. Inch by inch. Feeling every flutter, every squeeze. She’s tight, wet, perfect. When I’m fully seated we both groan into one another. Our moans are in unison now. We cry in passion, but also there’s a relief and a hunger to our desire.

For a moment we just stay like that. Connected. Still. Letting the feeling sink in.

Then she rolls her hips and whispers, “Fuck me like you’ve been thinking about for years.”

So I do.

Slow at first, with these deep, deliberate thrusts that make us both gasp. Then harder. Faster. The bed creaks under us. Oil makes every slide obscenely wet, with the sounds of our skin clapping together filling the room along with her moans and my ragged breathing.

Her perfect tits gleam and risk my balance to clench her swollen skin beneath my fingers. I suck on her nipples until they turn solid between my teeth whilst maintaining a steady rhythm, my cock sliding deep inside her.

Her pussy clenches once more as her body begins to spasm, as she moans my name with purpose. I almost lose it. I pull out just long enough to flip her onto her stomach, pull her hips up, and slide back in from behind. It’s always deeper this way. My hands grip her oiled hips, thumbs digging in as I pound into her.

She pushes back to meet every thrust. “- Jake - mm, don’t stop”

I don’t. I reach around, fingers finding her clit again, rubbing fast circles.

She shatters a third time, screaming into the pillow, body shaking. That’s what undoes me. Heat coils tight in my balls, then explodes. I bury myself deep and come hard. My cock tightens, and pulse after pulse fill her, groaning her name like a secret I’ve never said out loud.

We collapse together. Both so sweaty, and oily and spent. Her back to my chest, my arms around her waist. Breathing ragged. Hearts hammering in sync.

After a long minute, she turns her head, finds my mouth for a lazy, sated kiss.

“Oh - my god” she murmurs, giggling to herself. “Worth the wait?” she says with exhaustion.

I laugh, breathless. “So fucking worth it.”

She smiles against my lips. “Good. Because we’re just getting started.”

I close my eyes, let the afterglow wrap around us both. The heart expands, after all.