As the quote goes, “when first we practice to deceive.” A tangled web, indeed. Now I could tell you that I’ve been a good boy. I could tell you the lies I’ve told myself, and those around me. “I’ve got appointments off-site today so I won’t be in for a few hours” or “I need some extra cash this week for this work thing.” But you all know why you’re here. It was inevitable really. You knew I’d go back. I’m hopeless, really. But also, it’s really fucking good. I did take a little time off after my last post. It was indeed my intention to only get handjobs if I ever did go back. Or so I’ve told myself. But we all knew that was a lie, right? I told myself that to help me maintain my self image as “not a terrible person.” The truth is, I found another little shop. Dingy and drab from the outside. Nice enough on the inside. (1 room actually really nice, clearly recently remodeled…another room, well let’s just say I’m glad the lights are red and dim). But this place, my place. Oo...
When there is a rise, there is a fall, right? That’s how that works? Physics wasn’t always my strongest of the sciences (Physiology) but I did ok in it So, isn’t that how it works? I’m supposed to fall after the rise. Only…I didn’t. At least not at first. I felt…great? Aren't I supposed to feel bad? Shouldn’t I have some sort of post-nut clarity where I realize what I’ve done, what I’ve risked, and immediately regret it all? Eh. But I didn’t feel numb either. I felt alive. Relaxed, happy, and alive. It was an amazing experience, and my body (and mind) were so clearly craving this. So I drove. I went back to work like my world hadn’t just been rocked by this beautiful woman whose services I had paid to receive. I went about my day. I was productive. My head was clear. Even though my thoughts did keep drifting back to those mental pictures. How she looked at me. How wet my cock looked when it was half down her throat. The proud (mouth closed) smile on her face after the fi...
<record scratch> You’re probably wondering how I got here. Nahhh, I know you’ve been reading. You know exactly how this seemingly vanilla, innocent, by all previous accounts faithful man ended up in this house of ill repute. I mean, how I ended up getting more than I bargained for from this very legitimate, illegitimate massage spa. Let’s dive back in, shall we? When last we blogged, I had gotten a slap on the ass and had been told to undress. Being the obedient man I am, I shed my clothes with enthusiasm. Leaving things nicely folded on the chair, but oh with easy access to my pocket where I had some extra cash stored. You know, in case I needed…anything. Like a soft drink. Or a handjob. A man likes to be prepared, you know. So I take my place on the massage table. They leave a small towel, ostensibly to cover yourself with, so I do that. I lay on my stomach, my face in the little hole, and I *barely* cover myself. I know the cover doesn’t last long here, but hey, I’ll play alon...
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