Creature of habit

I had another meeting in the big city and I thought about visiting S who gave me a great massage and release in the half hour appointment I had. This time I thought I would go for the full hour and enjoy her two pop special.

I went back to the online forum and re-read her reviews and a few comparisons to other women in the same area. Hmmm…I began to have second thoughts since there were a couple of negative reviews of S. To each his own, of course, but there were kernels of truth in the criticisms. Mostly they complained about the clinical nature of the visit, One didn’t like the roughness of the massage and another thought the hand release was not erotic at all. For better or for worse I’m the kind of person who tries to see all sides of an issue so I could see how someone might feel that way about S’s technique.

There were reviews of others in the area so I made a list and figured I would decide what to do that morning. Should I stick with the known quantity where I know what to expect or try something different and maybe be disappointed? It’s so hard for a Libra to decide these things.

One of the other women reviewed is T who gives massages in an apartment on the same street as S. One guy said she performed a perfunctory massage and a quick, almost bruising hand job at the end. He said she was attractive and worked in her lingerie allowing some hand roaming. Another woman, J, worked several blocks away, was older than the others and was positively reviewed. The thing about her was that she brought the guy to the edge several times and let him decide the pacing of the HJ. Then there was the four hand massage at the other end of the neighborhood, but it seemed a little too expensive for me (but intriguing).

I made a list of their phone numbers and figured I would start with S and if she had no appointments, I would move on to one of the others. At least I knew what to expect with her and I knew she tried for two releases.

I called when I got off the train and S had an hour for me later that afternoon.

I arrived at the hair and nail salon where S rented a back room. This time there were customers getting their hair styled – a man and a woman. No one except the manager seemed to notice me waiting at one of the ‘barber’ chairs.

S motioned me in and we went through the same routine – she undressed me and asked me to lie face down on the table in the dimly lit room with soft string and flute music playing. She set an egg timer for the hour and began her ‘medium’ massage using her hands, elbows, knees to stretch out every muscle I had. She asked if she could work on my head and I worried about her loosening a blood clot as she rubbed down my temples. I joked that I needed a haircut (it was approaching the length I wore as a hippie in the late ‘60s) and she said I could get one there when I was done. I declined.

After my back and head she worked on my right leg right down to pulling on each of my toes just as she had done to my fingers. One thing about the hour massage, she spent more time on the details. All the while I was thinking that the reviewers who said everything was too clinical may have had a point although the massage was well worth my time there.

I knew what was coming as she kept running her hand through my ass crack as she worked on my buttocks. A little extra oil and she lubed up my cock and twirled it until it became as hard as it could while I was still lying on my stomach. She seemed to remember that I wasn’t into a prostate massage so she mainly kept her fingers out of my asshole. A little more oil and more stroking and I came in her fingers as she murmured something soothing and I groaned into the towel I had my face buried in.

She rubbed down my other leg as I caught my breath and I anticipated the flip and second try at an orgasm. I rolled over and she rubbed down my chest and shoulders. More oil and she brought me to attention again. I have to admit I was distracted by thought of the bad reviews and by her clinical appearance so I had a feeling I wouldn’t come again. I tried thinking of all the beautiful Asian women I had seen on the streets, the young pretty women in the salon outside the door, S’s ass that I had in my hand; but nothing I thought of triggered another shot. (Excuses, excuses.) After a few minutes of tugging and stroking she moved on to finish the massage. It was probably all the time she had budgeted because the timer rang as she wiped me down with the steaming towel. Neither of us spoke about the missed opportunity.

She helped me get dressed and we wished each other well. I walked back to the train station trying not to stare at the cute women on the streets.

The massage was very therapeutic but I couldn’t help being disappointed in myself for not coming twice. I guess it’s a macho thing. I had only time enough for a slice of greasy pizza before the train came, but plenty of time to contemplate my adventure. Next time I’ll break the habit and try something different.

Truth in advertising

I had a good excuse to go to my new office on Saturday when only the security guards are in the building. I had some work to do, but my real intention was to take a break and walk two blocks to my usual bikini bar for a little time away from reality.

(During my daily routine in my new office I walk by three massage parlors. From the public space where I work now I can see out the window and directly across a narrow street to the entrance to one of them. It’s an office building so it’s hard to tell who the massage parlor’s customers are but I try to guess as men, mostly young, ring the buzzer and wait for a response from inside. Just a little distraction during the workday.)

I knew A would be working on Saturday – her postings on an Internet strip club forum always gave the hours she would be working each week. She must have some experience in marketing because she promotes herself in a very flirtatious way, interacting with regular posters who often give positive testimonials. Part of the discussion had to do with thin vs. ‘Rubenesque’ dancers so I knew she’s a big girl.

After I got my drink and sat at the stage the DJ announced that A and B were leaving the stage and D was on her way up. I caught a glimpse of the woman I assumed to be A as she got off stage and sat in a corner. I stayed at the stage long enough for D to come over, rub her tits in my face and then offer me her pussy to rub my nose in. I should have stayed with D, but A’s marketing worked. I walked over to the corner and introduced myself to her.

She said I was the first person who read the forum to actually visit her there, or at least I was the first to admit it. She is a large woman – big tits, large thighs but not too big an ass, and long straight dark brown hair. She wore a teddy which showed lots of cleavage and fishnet stockings stretched to the limit. I had to ask her about her comment online that the champagne room rates are negotiable. She said she offers half price but you have to commit to 2 fifteen minute time slots (for the price of one). The house still gets its money for both slots. Her rules were that all of my clothes should stay on and buttoned up. I asked about her using her hands. She said only with my clothes on. I asked about letting my hands roam; she said she encouraged it. She said the club only allows one couple at a time in the room and the bouncer only shows up when the time runs out.

I had some hesitation but I figured it would be a good way to see what the club’s new champagne room was all about. We went into the room which was originally where the pool table was. It was really a large alcove with paneled walls and four or five large couches and coffee tables. The fourth wall was a large red velvet curtain that separated it from the rest of the club.

We settled in one of the corners and she rolled down her top to release two very large natural tits. They were large enough to s stretch her nipples so they hardly protruded. Her lapdance turned out to be just a slowed-down regular dance like I’m used to getting in the semi-private area. She leaned over me and got me hard with her knee; she straddled me with her tits in my face and her crotch rubbing mine; she turned around and let her ass do the work. She did let my hands roam. Her breasts were full and jiggled very nicely in my hands as she undulated in my lap. I rubbed her pussy with my fingers and when I worked my fingers under her clothes she had one more rule: no penetration. I stroked her clit when I could. She had very small pussy lips (unless they were folded up by her ample thighs). It was difficult when she was facing away from me, grinding with her ass because I couldn’t quite reach around to get in her panties. At that point I had to suffice with cupping her tits in my hands and letting them bounce to her movements.

I was getting close to climaxing when I realized she hadn’t used her hands on me. That one the one step I wanted to take by going into the champagne room - a discreet hand job in a more private area of the club. I was too timid to ask. And besides, her hip movements were doing their job; I came while squeezing her tits and moaning into her hair.

I gave her my email address and she promised to send me some promotional photos. I haven’t seen them yet. I thanked her and went back to work.

I hope I didn’t sound like I was making fun of A’s weight. Don’t get me wrong – I have nothing against big girls. I love all women, big & small. I’m not one to be judgmental about one’s weight. A was very nice to me but overall it was not as exciting an experience as I would have liked. But I live and learn. Next time I’ll find a woman who may not be as sweet but will deliver on her promise to take advantage of the private room and be a little nastier than what I usually find in a lapdancer.