It was Saturday night, and the sauna was totally empty, as it had been for the past few hours. It had emptied out, as it usually did, just before the dinner hours, and had remained empty up until the time that Robin Schafer had entered the locker room. It was almost ten-thirty, and Robin had an appointment for a massage.
She deposited her clothing in one of the lockers against the front wall, undressing quickly, feeling self-conscious and embarrassed. She was a young, unmarried woman, in her late twenties, with mouse-colored brown hair, and a thin, almost frail-looking body. Her shoulders were boney and stooped, and her pale, milk white flesh seemed to have been bled of all color. Her breasts-were small and pert, tipped with a blushed crimson pair of erect nipples, much too taut for her apple shaped tits. Her ass was small and narrow, and she had no hips to speak of: her waist went down in twin parallel lines until it became her legs. The hair between her thighs was the same in distinguished color as the hair on her head: scraggly wisps of faded brown fluttering like feathers against her shallow, vee-like genitals.
Despite her perched, bird-like appearance, Robin was almost attractive in a strange, uncommon way. Her eyes were large and full of innocence, childlike almost, haunted and haunting, much in the style of a certain popular artist who employed children's eyes to depict man's wounded soul. Her nose was small and nublike, and her lips were pursed and pouty, ready at a moment to open with words of an apology for any real or imagined transgression. The hollow of her cheeks were eternally colored with spots of red, as if she lived in a state of perpetual embarrassment. A long, elegant neck was her best feature, and she turned it from side to side slowly, for effect, giving her small, compact head a kind of tentative, precarious balance.
She stood naked for a moment or two, peering at the face of the clock on the wall. The wall was a sterile white rectangle, and the numerals on the clock blurred into the stark background. Robin was terribly nearsighted without her glasses, and after another moment she looked away from the clock. She reopened her locker and removed a pair of large round, white rimmed glasses that gave her face a wise, owlish appearance. Satisfied that she had enough time, she took the glasses off, and returned them to the locker. Naked, she walked across the locker room, her hands out in front of her like a blind woman, headed toward the sauna.
Putting her beaklike nose up to the dial she read the internal temperature of the sauna. She turned it up a notch or two further, and. removed two towels from the rack. She wrapped one around her head in turban-fashion, and pulled the other around her naked body, pinning it carefully with a safety-pin where the terry material over folded her covered breasts. She stepped into the sauna.
The heat was incredible, and she began to sweat almost immediately. The room was illuminated by red tinted bulbs, giving the stark, bare walls, an eerie, almost hellish atmosphere. There was the first moment or two of panic when she couldn't catch her breath, when it felt as if her lungs were boiling, and she were breathing in raw steam, but she mastered her anxiety, and walked into the center of the empty sauna, sitting herself upon one of the worn wooden benches.
Sweat was dripping into her eyes, and she took the corner of her towel to clean it away. Her pores were opening in the smothering heat, and wetness was rolling down her nakedness, drenching both absorbent towels almost immediately. Her flesh was tingling from the heat, cooking almost, turning lobster red where once it had been pale and colorless.
Robin enjoyed the sauna perhaps because it was uncomfortable for her. Certainly that would have explained in part her reason in having come so frequently to it in her short vacation stay at Mount Shangri-la Lodge. It was almost like pain, and somehow that made it acceptable. It was so stiffing, so hot, she enjoyed playing games with herself, fantasizing that she was in Hell, suffering for her sins. She would try to endure it for as long as she could, staying in when her lungs felt as if they were melting, and her thoughts became scattered and incoherent, trying to measure herself against the possibilities of eternity. Her eyes would become blurry, and she would feel as if she were going to pass out. She would hold on as long as she could, like a child holding his breath, trying to see how long she could go without breathing. Then she would make a rush for the door, running out almost, her lungs clawing at the damp, humid sir of the locker room.
She did the same tonight, remaining in the red hued room longer than she ever had before. Her breasts were rising fitfully when she finally did emerge, and it took her a moment or two before she could convince herself that she was not smothering. She staggered against the lockers, holding on for support, tears streaming down her face. Weak, and breathing like a steam locomotive, she made her way for the showers; twin tiled booths at the opposite end of the room.
Robin stripped off both her towels, discarding them on the floor. With a clean one she picked up from the rack, she wiped herself once or twice to remove the excess moisture from her pulsing red flesh. She stepped then into the booth and regulated the water temperature of the shower by sliding the silver lever all the way to the left, making it as hot as she could stand it. She was surrounded by water on all sides; There were four nozzles: one above her on the -ceiling, one on the wall behind her, and two others on either side of the stall. They gushed out scalding needles of fire that splattered like molten lava across her bright pink body. Her breath sucked in at the intensity of the sensation, and she rubbed her hand up and down, across her nakedness, spreading the soothing water all over her body.
Her fingers lingered across the tips of her nipples, and she grunted softly as. she caressed the tenderness between her thighs. She was very diligent about her cunt, and took exceptional care to ensure that it was completely looked after. She spread the inner lips and rubbed the moist flesh up and down, fingering the hole carefully, inserting the tip of her finger-down to the first joint. With the tip of her fingernail she could feel the tough, fibrous membrane stretched across the channel, and she sensed herself blushing self-consciously. She withdrew her finger and caressed the erect bud of her clitoris. The sensation, and the momentary anticipation of what might soon be, made her knees weak, and a new kind of wetness leak from her dilating cunthole. Conscientiously, she fingered her anus, convincing herself that it was only for reasons of cleanliness, even after she had inserted the middle finger of her right hand all the way up into the tight passageway of her rectum.
Removing her hand, she quickly slid the lever regulating the water temperature all the way to the other end of the scale, turning it from boiling hot to ice, ice cold.
"Jesus!" she cried, shuddering under the savage impact of the cold water. It was as if her flesh were burning, it was so cold. She could feel each pointed, frigid finger of cold water, sticking like pinpricks into her tender flesh. It was like a vicious shock to her nervous system, and her eyes opened wide, and she gasped fitfully, trying again to catch her breath. "Christ!"
When she could endure it no longer, she literally jumped out of the shower stall, without shutting the water. The rushing sound filled her ears as she grabbed for a towel and rubbed it furiously over her frigid flesh. Only when she was sufficiently dry, and the warm, humid air of the room felt gentle and caressing against her nakedness, did Robin drop the towel and reach her hand tentatively into the shower stall, and return the silver lever to the middle position. The water shut itself off, and the locker room was filled with the sound of silence.
Robin looked at the wall clock again, straining and squinting until she could see the twin black hands and read the numerals on the face of the clock. It was time for her massage.
The massage room was a small, square area, to the left of the sauna. It was windowless, with a single door leading into it. There were two massage tables in the room, parallel to each other, much like the examination tables one sees in a doctors office. Both tables were adjustable, capable of being raised or lowered, and were covered with a rich-looking black leather. The room was sparsely decorated, painted a sterile, antiseptic white, with a single cabinet against the far wall filled with towels, creams and oils, and a single locker, also painted white, for the masseuse's clothing. There was a desk in the corner of the room, and a black leather chair behind it. Sitting at the chair was Brigitta Hansen.
She smiled as Robin entered, looking up from the novel she was reading. "Ah, there you are," she said, slipping a bookmark between the pages of her book. Her voice was colored with a Scandinavian accent. "How was the sauna?"
Robin flushed uncomfortably, holding her towel more tightly around her nakedness. She shrugged her shoulders and tried to smile casually.
"It was very good," she answered. "I really enjoyed it very much."
"You should try swimming, or diving into the pool, the next time you try the sauna," Brigitta suggested. "It will be an experience like you've never known before."
The embarrassed flush deepened on Robin's face. "I don't know how to swim," she explained.
"Ah, yes, I remember now; Brigitta said, nodding. "You have told me that already. You must excuse me if I sometimes seem confused. There are so many women to whom I attend during the day. I sometimes get them mixed up."
"Certainly," Robin whispered softly.
Brigitta Hansen was a strikingly attractive woman. She was tall and shapely, muscular almost, certainly athletic, but decidedly feminine. She had shoulder length blonde hair that was more white than blonde, and it hung in loose, casual curls that had to be natural in the damp humidity of the massage room. Her eyes were wide and blue, and her complexion was pink and wholesome, completely unfettered by any cosmetics or blemishes. Her shoulders were broad, and her breasts were high and hard, without a bra, even though Brigitta had to be at least into her thirties. Her waist was narrow, pinched almost, and her hips were wide and flaring, tapering down narrowly again into perfectly-shaped, columnar thighs. She was wearing something that looked like a man's t-shirt, but it fit her like a second skin, clinging to her voluptuous body. Written in blue, undulating up and down the hills and valley of her breasts, was Mount Shangri-la Lodge. Robin could see her nipples through the thin fabric of the shirt. Completing her outfit, Brigitta wore a pair of white hot pants, rolled up around her thighs so that her legs were almost naked.
"So, get up on the table," Brigitta said, "and we will begin with the massage You may leave your towel there on the floor."
Flushing crimson, Robin dropped her towel and walked naked the few remaining feet to the massage table. She climbed up and laid back, looking up at the ceiling, her hands resting at her sides.
"I hope you don't mind my asking for an appointment at such a late hour,' Robin began, aware of the cool licking wetness of the air probing her nakedness. Her nipples were stiff, and there was a growing wet ness between the lips of her cunt. "A Saturday night, and all. I imagine this must be something of an inconvenience to you. You probably have something to do, somewhere to go."
Brigitta laughed, genuinely amused. "Me, go somewhere? No, not really. I rarely go out, even on Saturday nights."
"No… dates, or anything?"
Brigitta stepped over to the table. "I don't have time for such foolishness. There are too many more important things to do with ones life than to waste it."
Robin flushed. "Oh, really?" She tried to make her voice sound casual. "I would have thought a woman as attractive as you would have had more dates, more men than she knew what to do with."
"I have," Brigitta said, laughing. "That's my problem. But you, a young woman like you, why aren't you at the weekend dance? Is your husband tired?"
"Oh, no," Robin said, shaking her head. "I'm not married."
"Then your boy friend; he is too tired, yes?"
Robin closed her eyes and swallowed the dryness in her mouth. "I don't have a – any boy friends. Not, at least, here, I don't."
Brigitta stepped over to the table, placing her fingers at the sides of Robin's head. She began to massage slowly, rolling the tips of her fingers around in a slow, shallow circle, brushing back the young woman's wispy hairs.
"I give you a facial first," she said. "All right?"
Robin trembled. "Fine. That will be fine I want the works tonight. Everything."
Brigitta bent down and removed a clear plastic bottle from the cabinet under the massage table. She smeared some of the creamy liquid into the palms of her hands, and then she rubbed her fingers together.
"That's it," she said. "Close your eyes. And relax. Good… good."
Robin sighed. "Oh, that feels nice."
Expert fingers dug into the young woman's flesh, prodding it, pulling it, rolling it, pinching it, massaging the tensions right out of it.
"You are here then alone?" Brigitta asked, picking up the thread from the previous conversation. "No parents or girl friends with you?"
"Yes, I'm alone," Robin said, purring softly.
"I see," Brigitta answered, her fingers working in and out, up and down, caressing Robin's flesh, toning her muscles, making her body glow with relaxation. "You are here perhaps for the weekend?"
"No, I've been here all week."
"And you wait for the last minute to come for a massage?"
Robin's face turned scarlet. "No, actually, I was here before, at the beginning of the week. I came -" the word somehow stumbled across her lips "- for a massage the first day I was here."
"Ali, yes. I thought I recognized you."
The memory of that first experience came back to Robin as she lay there, naked on the table, with the tall blonde woman working over her. It had been her first massage, and it was like nothing she had ever experienced in her life. She had been embarrassed and excited at the same time, and, while Brigitta had been working over her, massaging her body, every single muscle, ignoring nothing, Robin had found herself becoming aroused. Sexually aroused. Brigitta had been massaging her thighs, the tender inside part, not at all touching her genitals, when Robin began to have an orgasm from the sheer sensual pleasure of having her body caressed. Both embarrassed and excited, Robin had tried to hold the orgasm back, but that only seemed to intensify it, until it literally exploded out of her. She had tried to cover it over, to make believe it hadn't happened, to try and hide it from Brigitta. All week long she wondered whether or not she had been successful. It took her that long to decide that she wanted to try it again, hoping for a repeat performance.
Brigitta was working on her neck now, running her fingers up and down from Robin's naked shoulders, to the cup of her ears. Playing her as if she were playing a piano, Brigitta tapped her fingertips against her, feeling the younger woman responding to her caresses.
"So, what took you so long to come back for another?" Brigitta asked. "Didn't you enjoy the first?"
Robin stopped and thought. Was she talking about the massage, or was she talking about the orgasm? Did she know? Christ, did she?
"No, I enjoyed it very much," Robin said, her lips trembling as she spoke. "It was a very pleasurable experience. I just wanted to wait a while before I came back for another."
Brigitta laughed softly. "So you waited until late Saturday night."
"I – ah, I…" Robin searched for words, finding none, no explanation that didn't reveal her deep, dark secret.
"Well, don't worry about it," Brigitta explained. "You would be surprised at the number of women who have done the exact same thing as you are now doing. Many, many women come to me for massages very late at night. Or ask me to come to their rooms for a massage. They enjoy the… privacy, and the special attention I can give to them."
A shudder passed through Robin's naked body.
"Many of the entertainers who perform in our nightclub have come to me for a private massage, either before or after their performances. They say it helps to relax them; it releases them of their… tensions."
Robin opened her eyes. Brigitta was directly above her, smiling as she stared down. Her breasts were suspended in the air above her face, hanging heavy and ponderously, their pink tips stiff and erect, like tiny bumps marring the otherwise taut flatness of her form-fitting shirt.
"I have finished with the facial," Brigitta explained. "Are you ready for the… massage now?"
Robin was breathing harshly. "Yes… yes, I'm ready. I'm – ready."
Brigitta smiled. "Good, then close your eyes, relax, and enjoy what is about to happen."
Robin closed her eyes, vividly aware of the growing wetness which was collecting between the lips of her swampy cunt. She was almost trembling in anticipation.
"I must clean my hands first," Brigitta explained, her voice drifting away from Robin. There was the sound of softly falling footsteps across the tiled floor. "I must get a towel first. From any locker."
Robin listened, and she heard the soft, barely audible sound of a click. Without having to see, she knew the sound hadn't come from Brigitta's locker. It was the sound of a lock being snapped into place. A door lock."
Sweat was pouring down Robin's naked form by the time Brigitta had returned to the massage table. Her thighs parted slightly, until she could feel the gentle brush of cool air blowing at the wetness of her cunt.
"Is there anything in particular you want me to massage?" Brigitta asked. She rested her hands on the edge of the table, barely touching the naked side of Robin's resting form. "A part of your body that aches? Something that needs to be rubbed?"
Robin ran a nervous tongue over her suddenly dry lips. "My legs," she began hesitantly. "I have always suffered from pains in my legs…"
"Any particular part of your legs?"
"My lower legs. My calves. And my… thighs."
"Your thighs? Good. I think I will begin my massage there. Would you spread you legs please? A little more. Good. Very good. It's good that you're all open as you are. It gives my hands, my fingers, a chance to get in here and… really give you a working over."
Brigitta's hands settled between Robin's thighs. She massaged the flesh first with the tips of her fingers, pulling the pale flesh slowly around in a shallow orbit, settling more and more of her hand upon her thighs, until she was digging down between them. Pleasure spread out from the tips of her fingers, coursing up and down the length of Robin's quivering legs, causing her toes to curl, and the lips of her cunt to flutter excitedly.
"You are very tense," Brigitta observed, her fingers moving slowly, carefully up Robin's thighs until she was almost pressing them into the oozing tangle of hair at the underside of her cunt. "You should relax more."
"I'm trying to," Robin said, her eyes screwed tightly shut, sweat dripping almost into her mouth. "But it's getting hard to… concentrate."
Brigitta touched her cunt.
"Oh!" Robin cried, her body stiffening.
The contact had only been a momentary one, a gentle brushing with the back of her hand, and then Brigitta had moved quickly away, even before Robin had gotten an opportunity to react. Even now, although her suspicions were evident, Robin couldn't be sure whether or not the momentary caress had been accidental or not.
"Did I – hurt you?"
Struggling to control her twitching lips, Robin shook her head stiffly. Her hands were knotted into gnarled fists, and her fingernails were clawing at the cool smooth, leather under her. Her thighs had pulled back for the moment in surprise, and she slowly, easily returned them to their previous position, until they were flat upon the table once more.
"No, you didn't. I – I'm sorry."
Brigitta continued to caress the tops of Robin's thighs, running her fingers up and down the crease of flesh between the mound of her cunt and her thighs. Her fingers brushed against the tangle sparseness of pubic hairs, sending shudders and additional wild sensations into Robin's body.
"You are very tense here," Brigitta explained. "The muscles here are very knotted." She stopped for a moment and trailed the tip of her long fingernails up the flat bowl of Robin's belly. "Would you like me to… massage you here? I will, if you wish."
Breathing heavily, Robin nodded "All right… if you want to. I -"
Brigitta placed her hand over the mound of Robin's cunt. Her long, expert fingers curled around the gentle sloping curve, folding under her body, pressing out the wide-spread of her already parted thighs. Her middle finger pressed down firmly, inserting itself between the folds of moist, furry lips.
"You have a lovely… body," Brigitta whispered, her voice a harsh purr. "So soft and… firm. And wet. The lips so delicate… like flower petals. Does this feel… pleasurable?" She rolled Robin's erect clitoris around with the tip of her index finger.
"Oh God – yes!" Robin cried, drawing her legs up and pulling them back. She pressed her cunt up, pushing it against Brigitta's exploring hand "It feels… wonderful!"
Brigitta joined a second finger alongside of the first, using both to pull the tender edge of Robin's cunt around in a slow, wet circle. She pressed down hard, causing the bud to slip and slide, ooze out from under her grinding grip. The lips of Robin's cunt fluttered, opening and closing stickily as the tall blonde woman caressed them.
"You like when I do this, don't you?" Brigitta asked.
Robin was covered in sweat, humping her pussy into Brigitta's twirling palm. "Oh… yes. Yes, I do."
"I make you feel warm and hot? Excited?"
"Oh, God – God!"
Her fingers moved from the bud of Robin's clit, sliding wetly down the moist, fleshy avenue between the lips, until Brigitta's fingertip was poised above the open, sucking hole of her cunt A wetness was oozing out, and Brigitta could feel wave after wave of the humid excitement basking against-her cupped hand.
"How does this feel?" she asked, inserting her finger into the elastic mouth of Robin's cunt.
Robin stiffened. "Don't please! I -"
Brigitta ignored her, moving her finger instead, in a slow, steady circle, stretching wide the opening and closing elasticity of her hole.
"Does this not excite you? Am I hurting you?"
Robin flushed, arching her back as she drove her cunt against the other woman's fingers. Shame mingled with passion, and she could feel her nipples hardening into a renewed state of intense excitement.
"It's not that," she whispered, clutching her breasts in both hands, squeezing into the fleshy mounds until a swell of throbbing passion washed down into her convulsing body. She said: "I… I'm a virgin…"
"A virgin!" Brigitta's voice was breathless, and her hand trembled against the slender, birdlike girl.
Shame made Robin want to deny it, but she closed her eyes in grinding self-reproach, shaking her bead from side to side.
"I… I'm sorry -" she began.
"Sorry! Don't be foolish, darling." Brigitta pushed her middle finger up inside the swirling pit of wetness until her fingernail touched the tautly stretched membrane of the young girl's virginity. "I am also as you are."
Robin opened her eyes. "You're also a…"
"Virgin." Brigitta smiled, her deep blue eyes flashing. "Yes, I am. No man has ever… ever put his thing… his cock! into my body. I would not let one ever. I would kill myself first."
The two women stared at each other, their eyes locked, their totally different lives -and lifestyles suddenly coming together, as if fate had brought them there, drawing them from the opposite ends of the earth. They were sharing something, these two strangers, something that neither would ever be capable of putting into words.
"Be gentle with me," Robin told the older, more experienced woman. "I've never done…"
"Close your eyes, little sister," she said, moving her finger inside or Robin's cunt. "Close your eyes and let me make love to you. It will be like nothing you have ever known in your life."
Robin listened, closing her eyes. She sensed movement around her, and then she felt Brigitta move away from her. She was about to tell her not to, when she felt something touching her, touching her wetly, and she cried out in a sudden, excited voice.
"Oh, yes!" she cried, arching her back, smearing her wet cunt against Brigitta's face. The blonde woman licked her between her thighs. "Do that to me. Do that to me… please!"
Brigitta had slid down to the edge of the table, leaned forward, and had begun to eat Robin's cunt. She used her fingertips to hold the sparse, almost hairless lips apart, and her tongue darted slitheringly up and down, through the moist foliage of her oozing cunt. She licked her juices up, drilling her tongue tip first into the dilating hold of her cunt, then pulled it out, and continued with an steady upward movement, until she was lapping at her throbbing clitoris. The bud pulsed under her tongue, and Robin's hands came up, and she trapped them against the older woman's head, locking her against her gyrating groin. Robin pumped herself up and down against the wet, licking mouth, and felt a tongue, where no tongue had ever been before, lapping up the drool of her excitement. She pulled her feet under her, so that she could arch her back even further, and she drove her virginal cunt up and down around the wet spear of Brigitta's tongue, almost as if she were fucking herself upon the older woman's Lesbian caress.
"Oh, God!" she moaned, feeling the powerful, stirring sensations filling her wracked, tensed body. "I'm going to come!"
Insensible of Robin's building passion, Brigitta continued to lick at her cunt with a slow, deliberate lapping motion. She slithered her tongue easily up and down, starting at her cunthole, and brushing the pointed wedge of her tongue across Robin's pounding clitoris. She was drinking in her oozing wetness, her mouth filled with the sweet taste of raunchy cunt, listening to the swishing brushing sound of her tongue's intimate licking. She could feel the young girl's thighs around her neck, and the steel-like hardness of her fingers entangling themselves in her silky blonde hair. Her hands went under her ass, and she lifted Robin, bringing her cunt directly against her lips, as if sipping from a wild, sexual cup.
"I'm coming!" Robin cried, throwing up her legs and wrapping them tightly around Brigitta's neck. She humped herself furiously up and down, her orgasm exploding all over the other woman's face. "Oh God, Ohhhhh! I'm coming!"
Brigitta licked Robin until the quivering spasms of her orgasm subsided, and the young girl lay passively on the table, her arms draped brokenly over the edges of fine black leather. Brigitta untangled herself from Robin's slender thighs, and stood away from the massage table, examining her handiwork.
The lips of Robin's cunt lay open, the hole oozing saliva and cuntal discharge, leaking out, flowing smoothly over the tensed cheeks of her ass, staining the leather. Her cunt was a sodden mass from the middle of her belly to the swollen mounds of her ass, and on both inner thighs. Her flat belly was heaving fitfully, like a tense drum skin, fluttering from the driving tempo of her sexual crescendo.
Brigitta smiled, and then, in a single, fluid motion, whisked her t-shirt over her head and dropped it on the floor, her massive, firm breasts tumbling out and dangling freely, swaying from side to side. Her hands went for the button and zipper of her shorts. Under them she was naked, and her cunt was hot and wet. It was a perfect time to introduce a novice to the deliciously sensual art of female lovemaking.