#3013: Gozo, Malta
Original photo: @_pelillosalamar_
Fiona traded city life for Gozo’s calm charm, content in her quiet routine—until her handsome coworker, Luke, asks about a forgotten talent. One sensual massage later, the heat between them ignites into something far more intimate… and deeply satisfying.
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Transcript
I never thought I’d enjoy my work. The idea of loving what you do to earn a living had always felt strange—until I moved to Gozo. That dream finally became real. I had studied long and hard to become who I am now. At first, I believed I’d spend my life restoring cathedrals, historic buildings, and time-worn statues in bustling cities. I dreamt of that life. But as the years passed, I realized I wanted something different—peace, quiet, and a place where my work would be appreciated.
I found all of that on this small island, just a ferry ride from Malta’s main hub.
Lately, I’d been working on a mosaic buried long ago beneath layers of concrete. To me, covering something so intricate and beautiful was borderline barbaric. Still, someone at some point believed it was a good idea, and now my job was to bring its original image back to life—maybe even better than before.
Of course, I wasn’t working alone. Near the entrance to the ancient temple, a few colleagues and I labored side by side, carefully restoring faded walls and forgotten relics that had been hidden, vandalized, or simply neglected. I greeted them all with a warm smile—it was easy to smile when you loved your work and lived in the most beautiful place on earth.
Luke, one of my coworkers, stood out—not only because he was closer to my age than to the ruins we worked on, but because he looked like hell. Even as he greeted me, there was a pained expression on his face, one that said he probably should’ve stayed in bed.
I asked what was wrong, teasing him about looking like he’d swallowed a whole lemon. He winced and confessed that his back had been killing him for days. Painkillers only masked it briefly before it returned with a vengeance. I shook my head, telling him that trying to push through wasn’t smart, but he waved me off.
Then I saw something flicker across his face—a curious expression, like there was something he wasn’t sure he should say. I waited. If he wanted to ask, he’d find the words. Eventually, he did.
Luke said he’d heard something about me from someone else at work—something about a job I used to have. I raised an eyebrow, not helping him out. He hesitated, then finally blurted it out: he heard I used to work as a masseuse during university.
I laughed. Living in a small community meant any piece of information, no matter how mundane, eventually made the rounds. I didn’t mind people knowing, not really—until the requests for free massages started. Then it became a bit much.
I asked what my past job had to do with anything, but I already knew where this was going. He didn’t want to ask, not outright. I could tell he was in real pain, though, and I also couldn’t ignore the fact that he was... very easy on the eyes.
So, I gave in.
I told him I’d help him out—just this once. He looked genuinely grateful. I added that we could go to my place after work, and I’d make sure he left feeling like a new man.
As I returned to the mosaic, a small smile tugged at my lips. I had a feeling the end of the day was going to be quite rewarding—for both of us.
Once work was done, I waited for Luke, and we made our way to my flat. He was clearly still in pain, which kept the conversation minimal. I didn’t mind the silence. I enjoyed it—especially when I had someone so nice to look at beside me.
We reached my place, a cozy second-floor apartment. As I let him inside, I apologized for the mess, but Luke waved it off.
“As long as I can walk out of here without pain,” he said, “I don’t care if it’s a war zone.”
That’s when I realized the best space for his massage was my bedroom.
I wasn’t sure how to bring it up without making it feel awkward. “We’ll need to go to my room,” I said carefully. But Luke didn’t seem fazed. No inappropriate comments, no smirks. Just quiet acceptance. I appreciated that more than he knew.
I laid a clean sheet over the bed and told him to take off his shirt and lie on his stomach. He did as I asked, and I didn’t even pretend to look away. He looked good shirtless—broad shoulders, toned arms. I allowed myself to admire him for a moment before grabbing a bottle of massage oil, warming it between my palms, and pressing my hands to his back.
I began working through the tension in his muscles, kneading the tight spots gently but firmly. Occasionally, he let out small whimpers—soft, pained sounds that stirred something inside me. I asked if it was helping.
“Yeah,” he sighed. “It feels amazing.”
Then, as if realizing how that sounded, he stammered something about wanting to keep feeling my hands on him. I laughed, and he turned bright red. I quickly reassured him, saying I didn’t mind keeping my hands on him at all.
His body relaxed again beneath my touch.
After about ten more minutes, my hands were starting to tire. Luke rolled over and thanked me, asking how he could repay me. I said I didn’t need anything—but if he really wanted to return the favor, he could help me relax too.
He didn’t hesitate.
“If you want that, maybe you should take your pants off,” he said with a sly grin.
I met his gaze, reading between the lines. He meant exactly what I thought he meant.
So I did. I removed my jeans and panties, feeling strangely unselfconscious. I asked if his back could handle it.
“Absolutely.”
He guided me onto the bed, pulling me onto his face with his arms wrapped around my thighs. His mouth found my pussy, his tongue flicking over my clit in soft, deliberate strokes that made my whole body tremble.
Gratitude had never felt so good.
He was skilled—really skilled. I whimpered and moaned, unable to hold anything back. His tongue moved lower, teasing my entrance before returning to my clit. I gripped the headboard, my body shaking as orgasm surged through me like a wave.
I sat fully on his face as I came, letting him taste every pulse of pleasure.
When I finally lifted myself off him, he looked more than pleased. But I wasn’t done.
“If your back’s still feeling good,” I said, “maybe we should go for another round.”
He was more than willing.
I freed his hard cock and slipped a condom on, lowering myself onto him slowly. The stretch made me moan as he filled me completely. I only rode him for a moment before he flipped us over, taking control.
He felt even better in that position, his body moving in sync with mine. Our breaths tangled, hands grasping at each other, hips meeting in rhythm. His mouth trailed my neck, teasing and worshipping me with every touch.
I cried out as another orgasm built, tight and hot and undeniable. He didn’t stop—only pushed deeper, faster, until I broke apart beneath him. He followed shortly after, groaning my name as he found his own release.
We lay there together, smiling through breathless laughter.
I didn’t know if it was a one-time thing, or the start of something more. But I knew one thing for sure:
Helping Luke out had definitely been worth it.