Unexpected

I swear I wasn’t expecting it.

It doesn’t lessen the sin, of course. Maybe it makes me feel a little less guilty when I say that. To you. To myself. Would I bother saying it if anyone else ever found out? “Well, I wasn’t going to, but once it happened I froze and couldn’t say no! Who could blame me!?” Or would I just own it, and accept the full weight of my responsibility?

Not entirely too long after my first happy ending, I was (unsurprisingly) craving it again. I love being touched. I love massage. My body craves it. Like so many other things, it’s mostly something I deny myself. Oh, and I really like orgasms I definitely do not experience as many as I’d like So yes. Cravings.

There I was, with more than enough cash in my pocket, and an unexpectedly wide open morning schedule. Picture the overly memed gif of beads of sweat as I overthink this.

I did a little research online, and I thought to myself - hey, let’s try a new place. You know, if I go back to the same place again, then I *know* what I’m doing. This way I’m just going for a massage, right? Seriously. Worst case scenario I get a new massage and I go about my day. After all, I’m there for the therapy - the lavishing of attention on my cock is just a happy (he he) coincidence. The orgasm is just the icing on this delicious cake, right? (Or am *I* providing the icing? Where am I going with this metaphor? Right, I’m stalling again.)

So I found a reasonably sketchy, yet reasonably decent looking spa. I feel like I have plausible deniability going here - it looks like a massage therapy office. In my mind, however, it has so many of the tell-tale signs I’ve recently found are very good signs that you will get more than you’re supposed to there, wink wink. I am ready. Morning routine, coffee, drop the wife at work, check in at my own work and confirm that I’m still free and nothing is on fire. Then I drive. I drive to another part of town, quite a ways, and yet reasonably “on the way” to another location I often have to work.

I show up, and it’s a little dingier than the photos online would suggest. It’s more of a run-down house than a reputable office space. It looks vacant. Empty. Abandoned. There are no cars in the lot, though the gate is open. The open sign is not illuminated. Undeterred, I mean, I’ve come all this way. I park and stroll to the front door. Locked. No buzzer or doorbell to ring. No secret entrances. I guess I’m out of luck. Maybe I’ll drive around. I’ve started to notice “these places” throughout the city. Maybe I’ll find another one with the right balance and still receive the “therapy” I’m craving.

Along I go. Nope, this one looks a bit too obvious. Nahh, too many people parked in front of this one. Pulled into a couple parking lots and thought, eh…better keep moving. Before long, I ended up…yea, I know…back at my “regular” place. No denying it now, I know what I’m getting into here. But oh, I just so happen to have more cash than I did last time. Funny how that worked out.

This time, I enter with a bit of confidence. A little less uncertainty. Still, my heart is pounding. I’ve been here a couple times at this point, so I know why I’m nervous, but still trying to play like I’m not. I enter and hear the familiar chime. A minute later from behind a closed and blacked out screen a sweet “hello honey, one minute” beckons. The little window slides open and there she is. She’s cute. Incredibly so. Dressed more modestly than the previous therapists I’ve seen. For a moment I’m thinking, maybe today I really am only getting a massage. I pay the house fee for an hour massage and she unlocks the metal gated door (sidenote: a second, locked security door once you’re inside? A good sign). She takes me by the hand and leads me to a familiar room. It’s quiet, doesn’t seem like anyone else is here, which is nice. It’s still weird to think someone is getting jerked off right next door while you’re…well, trying to relax and ABOUT to get jerked off. Just me? Hmmm.

She makes sure I’m in the room, gives me a hug, and says “ok, undress” and points to a chair where I can lay my clothes. She slaps my ass and smiles as she leaves and shuts the door gently behind her.

“Well, that was unexpected” I thought.

Maybe more than just a massage was indeed still on the table.