Massages, happy endings, and my #metoo moment

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Well, it finally happened.  I began to think long ago it never would. I didn’t want it to happen, honest.  But, I did kinda wonder how come I was never propositioned. Sort of like this – I was an Catholic Church alter boy when I was young. I was a VERY adorable child.  I am obviously  happy I was never molested. I can’t help but feel a little rejected in retrospect, though. This is sorta like that.

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When you hear ‘massage parlor’, what comes to mind?  Massage Envy? A nice and well deserved 60 minutes of pampering?  Or… do you think ‘rub & tug’… or ‘happy ending’? I have been getting massages very often for the last decade or so.  My upper spine (C3, C4, & C5) is all fucked up. Massages are a blessing.

Most of my life, though, I was afraid to get a message.  Not because I am bothered by a stranger touching me. I don’t even mind if its a dude.  Sure, it’s a little weird to have a dude working over my body… but they have way stronger hands.  The reason I was afraid to get a message is the same reason every guy is, but they won’t admit it.   We are terrified we will fart, or get a boner. In… let’s say… about 40 messages over the years – I have never got an erection.  Thank god! I have probably farted once or twice, but nothing I even remember.

If you go to any massage place that isn’t a chain, it will be Asian women.  Always.  I have never asked for, or been asked for, a handjob happy ending. Lots of massage places have signs everywhere saying ‘no sex’… in a thousand different ways.  It really must be an issue. How come it has never happened to me? Obviously, they don’t offer it. There has got to a lot of legal concerns by the businesses.  By process of elimination, I have always assumed you have to ask for a ‘happy ending’. I have never tried it, because I genuinely don’t want one. I am curious, though.

But let’s say I did.

How, exactly, does one request a handjob full release happy ending?  What is the going rate? Can you negotiate?  I didn’t do it, and here is why. I have too much love and respect for my wifey.  She was the first one I told about this. I can’t say I am disgusted by the idea of a handy from a stranger, though.  I am not worried about disease. BUT, the one thing I also super worry about… what if that was a bust? Is that entrapment?  If I got busted doing that (or… er… having that done) would I have to register as a sex offender? That would ruin my life, and likely my marriage.

So what happened?  I was getting a message at a dodgy plan in a strip mall.  To be professional, I’ll not say where it was.  Let’s just say the intersection rhymes with Quebec and County Line.  I was nearby getting a car serviced (if ya know what I mean, wink wink) and apparently I too was about to get ‘serviced’.  I was getting a message, and for some reason I was nekkid.  That is usually never the case.  I am always in boxers.  Why was I nekkid?  I don’t remember, but it would not have been my choice.  At the end of the message, the nice asian lady pulls back the modesty towel.  In retrospect, I realize she was likely checking my junk for disease.  I was on my back, so it was ALL out there, baby!  

I was there with my eyes closed.  She taps me on the shoulder, I open my eyes.  She says, in a soft creepy whisper “Mister… do you want a (and makes furious handjob gesture)”.  I politely declined.   I left pretty quick.  Now I have so many questions.  What would the cost have been?  Can you negotiate?  Should you?  What other services are offered?  What if it was a bust?  If I didn’t initiate it, am I still as guilty?  Prolly.

Thing is, I was pretty sure she wasn’t just inspired by my magnificent dick.  They rarely are.  This is more likely part of some very terrible sex slave prisoner stuff going on.  Asian women are offered transport to the USA, but they have to work it off.  When they arrive, they find out what that means.  Their passports and paperwork is often held off site, so the folks are literally prisoners.  Told if they try and leave they will be arrested.

The whole thing left me just amused and puzzled.  I told the wifey over beers.  For whatever reason… I am now telling you?


1 thought on “Massages, happy endings, and my #metoo moment

  1. MMM… Bony hands… equals bony fingers. I’ll let you use your imagination on that mind movie. Or maybe you prefer 1 beefy sausage finger…

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