Massage Parlor for Unsatisfied Wives in Another World

I continued massaging and switched the roles of my hands: one began to knead more deeply, while the other started to play with her erect nipples more purposefully, exploring how she reacted to every little change.

On the right side of her chest, the node of the magical circuit isn’t located like it is in the heart, but there are still channels to stimulate... and she, unaware, can’t tell whether or not that’s actually part of the massage.

So I continued; her breast was soft, warm, and felt good when I squeezed it and did whatever I wanted with it.

”Ah... yes... that feels Ahhh!!!... there, it’s a little mnmmh~!...”

Every reaction of hers made it harder to ignore, as if she were obediently trying her best to express what she was feeling to me, but she was inevitably interrupted by a sweet moan caused by my abrupt—and deliberate—movements.

Doing this turned out to be more fun than I thought; my older sister, Rose, might be an experienced MILF, but she acted in a way that simply made me not want to stop teasing her.

She was bright red, and heavy breaths were even escaping from between her luscious, delicate lips; the funniest part of all was that she stubbornly kept her eyes closed and furrowed her brow intensely, as if she were facing a difficult situation.

Her body was also reacting more and more; her legs were getting increasingly restless, and her arms didn’t seem to be able to find a comfortable position either.

Each and every one of her reactions was food for my depraved soul.

And at a certain point, they became more and more seductive, and that was turning me on more and more... even more than I should have been.

So much so that I stopped massaging as I had been and, using my other hand, took both nipples at the same time... And pulled them.

Without warning and without any restraint.

”Ahhh! It hurts!... hmmngh... it hurts, but it feels good... mngh~ Iris, I don’t understand... aaah... it just feels so good... ah... wait... don’t stop...”

Her reaction was immediate.

I did it on the spur of the moment, but she accepted it very easily; no, she clearly liked it.

Not just because of what she was saying, but because of how her body was responding involuntarily.

Her breathing was no longer steady.

”Haa... Iris... that... that’s... mmh~ so good!...”

At that moment, it was clearer than ever: she definitely wasn’t going to stop me.

That made me realize I no longer needed to hold back and could steer this wherever I wanted.

I continued, varying the rhythm on purpose.

Sometimes slower, almost making her want it more... Other times firmer, drawing out responses she was no longer trying to hide.

My hands were learning fast.

Every little gesture of hers—a longer sigh, a slight tension, the way her breathing caught—told me exactly what to do next, without ever forgetting to perform the two massages.

’I perform my profession to the best of my abilities.’

No!, it was more than that.

It was as if my sister Rose were a canvas that already had a beautiful form of its own... and I was simply revealing it, stroke by stroke, discovering which lines to highlight, which areas to press, which parts to leave in suspense so that the contrast would be even more intense.

I felt like an artist creating a masterpiece.

”Iris... mmh... no... don’t stop, I think you should—mmmng, more on that spot, yes!!~...”

I wasn’t part of the orthodox school; I didn’t follow a set pattern. My art was different, chaotic, and unique.

I varied the pressure, alternating between gentleness and firmness, always keeping in mind the limit and how much pressure she could handle; even going beyond what she could bear was part of the process.

”Ahh... too much... but... no... mmgh... keep going, it still feels good — ah!~...”

I left small gaps only to break them again seconds later.

Like a painter who steps back for a moment... only to return with a more decisive brushstroke.

All with a chaotic precision that was part of my own ”process.”

”Mmh... Iris... that...”

I had become so immersed in it that I didn’t even notice that, at some point, she was mostly letting out moans rather than words.

”Haa... haa... Iris... I can’t... anymore... mh...~❤️...”

We were getting closer and closer to that point we’d both predicted earlier.

Now her voice was lower, heavier... more honest.

More... malleable.

I kept going, didn’t stop, and one of my hands began to descend; it slid down her two soft mounds and reached her abdomen.

”Mngh~... n-no... there... ... mmh...”

Once there, my fingers traced calculated movements, roaming, stopping right where I knew it would provoke the most reaction.

”Ah—! Iris... that... is...haaah~ ...”

Sometimes I pressed harder. Sometimes I barely brushed against her; it was a stroke on my canvas, a stroke that allowed me to be even more creative.

I moved down a little further to the lower part of her abdomen.

”Ahhh!— Iris... no... that... I can’t...! Ah— wait!”

I knew what she meant: there’s another spot on the magic circuit there, and it seems to trigger an even stronger reaction in her.

Just placing my fingers there and continuing the massage made her arch her back so sharply that it briefly lifted off the massage table.

Her whole body tensed up—it was a great reaction, and I think I’d found one of my older sister’s weak spots.

She finally, after a moment, collapsed back down.

”Haa... haa... Iris... that was... too much...”

That intense moment brought her back to her senses a little, but her voice was trembling.

Her breathing no longer followed any clear rhythm.

On the other hand, I saw her legs making small movements, rubbing against each other; this was stimulating her a lot, and that’s exactly why I didn’t stop.

The key was not to let her adjust.

To always keep her one step behind.

Always reacting... never anticipating.

”Iris... wait... if you keep this up... I... I won’t be able to... ah...”

She asked me to wait for her, but she didn’t say to stop.

She didn’t even really hint at it.

I suppose she’s a woman of her word and wouldn’t stop this.

In a way, that made me feel a little bad for taking advantage of her.

But instead of guilt, a big smile spread across my face.

I pushed a little harder. Not roughly, but with that steady pressure that wears you down little by little. The kind that doesn’t break you all at once... but doesn’t leave any room to recover either.

Like polishing a surface until it loses all its roughness... until only response remains.

”Haa... haah~, n-no... mmh...”

Her breathing became more irregular, deeper, and unsteady.

Her posture shifted, almost without her realizing it. More open. More exposed. More... accessible to me.

As if her own body were offering itself to me, without her having to decide it.

There it was. Acceptance.

Nonverbal.

Irrational.

But real.

I kept playing a little longer, exploring different ways, different rhythms, as if I wanted to memorize every reaction.

”Mmh... don’t stop... but... wait... not so... ah...”

Every little change in her body gave me information... and I used it.

Every response of hers added a new layer to this ”work” I was building.

As if each reaction were a more defined stroke, a line that could no longer be erased.

Until finally... I noticed the change.

It wasn’t abrupt. It was subtle.

Like when a painting reaches that point where one more brushstroke could ruin it... or perfect it.

”Haa... Iris... wait... I think... if you keep going...”

She noticed it too, and once again asked me to wait for her.

And this time I listened to her, and slowed down.

My hands stopped teasing and returned, little by little, to a gentler, more ”technical” movement.

”Mmnnngh~ Iris...”

As if none of what had come before had had any other intention.

As if it had always been just a massage.

”...haaaah~...”

Her voice sounded lower and more vulnerable; she finally took the breath she needed, but I also sensed a slight disappointment in her, as if she hadn’t expected me to actually slow down.

Her breathing began to steady, though it still carried that trace of what had come before... like an echo that refuses to fade.

I really love these situations; for me, having this kind of control over the situation and over another person gave me a feeling I can’t describe.

”Iris... that was... I... no...”

We had reached exactly where I wanted to be; she didn’t seem able to think clearly, and what little reason she had left was very wavering—she seemed very confused and indecisive, but her resistance seemed virtually nonexistent.

So now that she’s let her guard down, it’s time to act.

My hand, on her abdomen, began to tentatively move even lower, slowly but surely.

Inch by inch, I moved downward.

”Iris... that is, no... w-wait...”

Her voice broke again.

As if she could see the next touches coming that hadn’t even happened yet...

Her breathing began to falter again, her body tensed, as if she were clinging to something that was slowly slipping away.

She was like a figure trying to maintain its shape... while someone else had already decided to change it.

She was so beautiful, so vulnerable to me that I truly feel there’s no need to drag this out any longer.

I leaned a little closer to her.

”Big sister~...”

My voice came out softer and more provocative, that kind of seductive tone Iris usually uses to lure Astan into an intense night of passion.

That distinctive, flirtatious tone seemed to stimulate her to the point that she finally opened her eyes and looked at me.

Her eyes made it clearer what she was feeling.

”...”

Confusion.

But also... there were so many other things; it was so complex that even I had trouble fully understanding it, but that didn’t make me back down.

My upper hand didn’t stop moving, maintaining that rhythm that already had her hooked, while the other one moved down a little further... getting closer and closer to its target.

I already had her caught in my web; now all that’s left are the finishing touches, and that’s a little bit of honesty,

”You know...? Ever since I saw you... there’s been a thought I just can’t get out of my head~...”

”...”

In response to my voice, which remained soft and flirtatious, her body reacted.

She trembled slightly, as if she feared what I was about to say.

”It’s not right... since I have a husband, but...”

”I-Iris, n-no—”

Her voice came out with difficulty, mostly broken.

Watching her panic even more, not knowing what to say or how to stop me, was really fun and at the same time turned me on even more.

”Big sister... you’re so beautiful... so pretty...”

”...”

My words were really affecting her and confusing her more and more.

But I was ruthless and didn’t stop.

”There’s something about you that just makes me... feel so many things...”

And I didn’t settle for just talking; my hand was moving lower and lower, dangerously so.

Confusing my sweet sister Rose even more.

”You’re so mature and experienced... but at the same time, you’re an innocent maiden...”

As I spoke, I moved a little closer to her ear, so close that she must have felt my warm breath.

”It’s as if you were... everything I like... all in one place...”

My voice was almost a whisper.

My lower hand moved down a little further.

”...Iris...”

She just said my name—with what intention? Was it resistance? Mercy? A plea? I don’t know, and perhaps she doesn’t know either.

”You make me feel so many things I don’t understand... and I feel that I truly care for you...”

Without pausing, without giving her a chance to interrupt me, I continued speaking.

”I... I wanted it to be just that. I really tried... but I couldn’t...”

”...”

She fell silent at my words. She seemed to lose her breath, as if she’d forgotten to breathe.

”No, when I realized that what I felt wasn’t one-sided... yes, I realized it, big sister...”

”...”

My words made her body tense up even more. Not out of rejection, but because she already knew what I was referring to.

”I noticed how you looked at me... your interest in me was clear...”

My hand traced a small movement downward.

”...”

Another pause. A heavier one.

”Just curiosity... or... am I too hot to ignore...?”

Although it sounds narcissistic, objectively I know I’m a fiery beauty; Iris and Astan have good taste after all, and I suppose she does too.

”...no... I...”

I try to deny it, but at this point, it was a pointless gesture.

”It doesn’t matter, it can be whatever... but still, you don’t know how happy that made me.”

”...”

”That my feelings were reciprocated... it can’t be described as anything other than fate...”

I have more than one opinion on that concept, but for now I’ll use the part of me that truly believes in it.

”...”

”...and Sister Rose... I don’t want it to end here...”

My voice dropped even lower; the atmosphere between us was thick and heavy.

The climactic and transformative moment had finally arrived.

”I want something more...”

Along with those final words, my descending hand finally reached and touched her sacred place.

That made everything clear.

There was no room for misunderstanding.