It is not Sticky!

“You need to get your stick waxed!’ Brian said, way too loud.

“Huh?”

“Come on,”  he had stopped by my office on a Friday afternoon, which I usually keep clear for, well, personal business.  “I checked with Kristen” (my secretary) he said, “and your schedule is clear.”  We went down to his car and drove for about 5 minutes to, um, the place will remain nameless.  Let’s just say it was an Asian massage parlor. “Now, I’m not taking 'no' for an answer. Get in there.”  He said, as I hesitated at the front door.

“It looks,” I paused for the right words, “sticky.”

“It is not sticky!  Get in there.  You’re going to enjoy yourself.”  He assured me.

Once inside I was introduced to “Sumiko”.  She looked to be about 20 years old.  Quite beautiful, with a great body. OK, I was impressed.

I was led back to a room with a massage table in it, and given a hamper for my clothes.

“Do you have hangers?” I asked.  Sumiko was quite obliging and produced a proper suit hangar for my coat.  She left the room and I disrobed and hung my suit on hangars provided and draped myself in towels as I assumed was appropriate (sorry guys, I’ve never had a massage before).  I lay down on the table face down, with a towel over my butt.  Sumiko returned after a minute or two.

She was wearing a white robe that looked a bit like a judo uniform, with a thick sash around the middle.

She spread a warm scented oil on my back and proceeded to massage it.  Aaaaah, that felt good,   She was actually a really good masseuse, although she did occasionally reach under the towel.  Not that I'm complaining.  After about 20 minutes, as I was about to doze off in sheer comfort, she asked me to turn over.

“Your friend has paid for ‘special massage”” she said, and she pulled the belt from her robe.  She pushed the robe off her shoulders.  It dropped to the floor, and then she was clad only in a pair of black bikini briefs.

Oh boy.

I fiddled with the towel and tried to be discrete.  I ended up on my back, but I was seriously tenting the towel.

Standing on my left, she massaged the front of my right shoulder.  To do this she needed to lean over me.  She was dangling her breasts right in front of my face.  I’m guessing this is the “special massage”.  God, I almost creamed the towel.  She was hot. She went over to my right and did my left shoulder.  I don’t know how much more of this I could take.  She moved down my chest.  Then to my stomach.  Then she was drifting her hands under the towel – where I was obviously aroused.  She then reached down and gave a stroke on my cock.  “Oops,” she said, “is that OK?” OK? That was fabulous.

“Fine” I replied, trying to be nonchalant.

“Your friend” she said, with what I assume was a fake oriental accent, “has paid for ‘Happy Ending’”

She slid her hand beneath the towel, and, well, massaged.  She pulled off the towel and teasingly played with me.  Then she climbed up on the table and took me into her mouth.  I came almost instantly.  That was the first time I had an experience with anyone but my wife (or my right hand) in 18 years.

It was wonderful.

I went home that night, and was unable to look my wife in the eye.