We All Scream for Happy Endings. When I went to New York a few years back, my then-boyfriend and I went for a romantic Valentine's Day massage at a midtown spa. Aside from misplacing our reservation, the rubdown was pretty good - so good in fact, that both masseuses pulled down our underwear and began vigorously kneading our doughy bums. I distinctly remember looking over at him and mouthing, "What the fuck? I was anticipating the two women to tell us to turn over and whisper, "Would you like me to finish you off? That was the end of it. Closer to home, although the market may be small, surely there must be places where a chick can get her own version of a rub-and-tug, perhaps a "rub-and-lick? I posted an ad on Craigslist's casual encounters and got about 20 responses in about five mins.
My Secret Life as an Underage Massage Therapist
Important Notices: By participating on this discussion board, visitors agree to abide by the rules outlined on our Rules page. Messages posted on the Democratic Underground Discussion Forums are the opinions of the individuals who post them, and do not necessarily represent the opinions of Democratic Underground, LLC. Got a message for Democratic Underground? Click here to send us a message.
More From Thought Catalog
Invite her out with your friends. Warm up the car before she goes inside. Give her a spare key to your apartment. Text her until she falls asleep.
As my hands addressed their aches and pains, my clients shared their fantasies and fears with year-old-me. Little did they know, I was dealing with family drama of my own. I let my hands glide over his shoulder blades in robust bilateral movements, kneading my thumbs into the smaller tendons. The sweat that leaked down my cheeks had begun to form a thick ring around my neckline. The client was a six-foot professional boxer with a dry sense of humor and a penchant for deep tissue massages. He wore his dark hair short and would randomly touch his goatee before settling into our session.