as planned, and I bounded, naked, out of bed. “Too damn early,” I said, then reconsidered. The only time that worked was 6 a.m., two mornings later. I could charge one to my bill and add it to my expense account. He praised my courage, but he was unconvinced.Ī few years later, in Chicago for a design-industry conference, I saw that the fitness center in my hotel offered massage services. But a massage is not an erotic experience, I assured him. “What if it happened in the middle of the massage?” And I agreed, of course, that it can be unpredictable and uncontrollable. And there was nothing, absolutely nothing, embarrassing about it.īack home, feeling proud, I recounted my exploits to my friend Richard. Relaxed? I had never in my life felt so loose. When he finished, he helped me off the table, my muscles almost like jelly. Over the course of the hour, he found ways to unknot nearly every nerve and muscle in my body. The masseur, a serious man of few words, was beefy and confident.
#3d gay porn cartoon cock milking free
I opted for a Swedish massage.ĭon’t like ads? Become a supporter and enjoy The Good Men Project ad free I scheduled it at the end of a long day of meetings. Figuring this might be a once-in-a-lifetime event, I chose the longer session, despite my trepidation. He unwrapped me that was that.įinally, I succumbed and arranged for a massage.
“It’s no good unless you fall asleep,” said the attendant. So, I got a facial, which was fun, then an herbal body wrap, which I hated-arms pinned so I couldn’t move I felt claustrophobic. I and the others in our group were urged to take advantage of spa facilities-the more services we signed up for, the more advertising we’d bring in. This all-encompassing fear steered me away from spas and rubs for years-until the inevitable happened, and I was put up in a Florida resort for a magazine sales meeting.
Hearing those stories, imagining this poor young woman staring at me, giggling and pointing, trying to navigate around it, all I felt was incredible embarrassment. The only thing covering your crotch was a small towel, and before you knew it … They climbed up on the table and literally walked up and down your back. Sergeant Gifford, holding court after a long weekend debauch, would boast about massages and oil rubs that were “better than sex.” The masseuses were tiny and cute, he’d say. I couldn’t help but recall my Army service in the Far East, hearing tales about Japanese baths.