Tuesday, October 31, 2006

On the road again

Another trip to the midwest - to a city that doesn't exactly fit the midwestern stereotype of conservitve farmers living lives of quiet and desparate family values. I had been there on business before so I was looking forward to another trip to the massage parlor (disguised brothel) right in the downtown area among upscale restaurants, government buildings and trendy shops.

This trip I was able to get away from work early one afternoon, and since I was traveling alone I didn't have to worry about running into a colleague on the street. I went to my hotel room to dress down - shorts, sandals and a tee shirt. Leaving my wallet but bringing just enough cash to pay for services, I took the short walk to the MP. It was too late for lunch and too early for dinner so there weren't a lot of outdoor diners at the reataurants on the block, and the drinking class had not quite started gathering at the Irish bar and the black bar that bookended the entrance with the almost unnoticable sign over the door.

I walked up quickly, opened the door and started climbing the steep steps to the second floor. Gone was the duct taped stair covering, replaced with new vinyl runners. The rest of the stairwell looked like the same old firetrap but with the same wrought iron gate at the top and the same sitting room where guests are greeted.

I walked in and M introduced herself to me asking if I had been there before. I didn't have to lie saying it had been a couple of years. She said she was the only one available but if I would like to wait... I said I would love to have a massage with you and I went to pay the college-aged guy sitting at the desk. (I wish I had a job at a brothel when I was in college. I wonder if he gets an employee discount.)

M led me down a corridor to the first room on the left - the same room I was in last time with the same low red light and velvet paintings on the wall. The air conditioner was covered with a blanket because it got too cold for naked people when it was running.

M is a rather large black woman probably in her 40s, very friendly with a big smile, average natural tits, wide hips and plenty of flesh to go around. She asked me to get undressed and gave me a towel to bring to the shower across the hall. They keep it pretty clean so I wasn't too grossed out by using in effect a public shower in such a place. I returned to the room just as M was coming back - no wasted time.

It's hard to call the place a massage parlor when the 'massage table' is really a mattress on the floor. There's no pretense about legitimate massages and it's really up to the customer and the provider to decide how much massage time and how much play time there will be during the session. We settled on the tip which is a flat rate for whatever sexual game a person wants to play. We both decided to start with a massage anyway.

I lay on my stomach while M peeled off her one piece outfit that just about covered the naughty bits and sat next to me on the mattress - a little oil and some small talk and she set to work. We talked about the city and the weather, her schedule and her children. They're grown & they know what their mother does for a living. They're cool with it. She works three 15-hour days a week. Not for me, but differenct strokes...

Speaking of strokes, she found a knot under one of my shoulder blades and worked out the kinks like a professional (masseuse, that is). I felt so much better; I almost forgot the reason I was there.

Time for the flip and she did some light touching around my chest & asked what I wanted. I usually go for a hand job in a place like this but since there was a flat rate for anything, I decided to escalate my sexual 'perversion' and asked for a blow job. She got me good and hard with her hand and realized she didn't have a condom. She apologized and ran out to get one. Even though it was just oral, I didn't complain about being covered because you just don't know...

It must have been a very thin rubber because I hardly felt it go on and her licking and sucking felt like real skin-to-skin contact. Of course she probably knows just how much pressure to use to achieve that goal. I must say whe was quite expert at the art of the blow job, working the shaft at all the sweet points with her lips and tongue and painlessly caressing my balls.

My hands went roaming and she adjusted herself so I sould reach her pussy. I worked her clit and finger-fucked her as she really got into her work. She sensed me coming close a couple of times and backed off a little to prolong the ecstacy. I couldn't last forever and finally blew my load. The only thing about a covered BJ is you don't get to shoot all over her face and in her mouth just like a money shot in a porn movie. Oh well, I'll take it anyway.

It took a few minutes to come down from the sex high and M started to clean me up. She struggled to get her one-piece back on, finally succeeding as I finished getting dressed myself. We hugged and said goodbye and she escorted me through the waiting room.

The sun outside nearly blinded me after the darkness of the rooms upstairs. I walked back to my hotel for a nap and a dream. It's the end of my travel season so I'll have to choose other avenues for my secret life until spring when I'm off again.

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