After my surprise first experience at an Asian massage parlor while visiting in Texas, it was on my mind a lot. I kept my pledge to never tell anyone, but it was a secret that was always near the top of my mind. The experience was so sexy, so satisfying, so mysterious and so memorable. I felt no guilt, no remorse, no regret. I had stumbled into it. There was no pre-planning, no intent. I had no feeling that I had cheated on my wife. She had ended our sex life, and even though intercourse was painful for her, we could have kept taking care of each other in different ways. I asked for it, almost begged for it. But for her, sex was in the past. She loved me, she loved the money I made, and she loved living in her nice home with her nice soft life. I had been sexually satisfied by a woman that I didn’t know, had no personal relationship with, and I would probably never see again. I had merely made a purchase to satisfy a need that my wife chose to no longer fill. No guilt.
Then the pandemic happened. If I had thoughts about going to an Asian massage parlor in my own city, they were crushed along with so many other things that were sacrificed because of Covid 19. Travel back to Texas to return to the same parlor was out of the question. We didn’t shut down our lives completely, but something as close and intimate as a massage was out of the question. I didn’t even go for haircuts.
During this time I began searching for videos of Asian massages on porn websites. It was fascinating to watch an Asian woman begin a massage with a man, and end up giving him a hand-job, blowing him, or even fucking him on the massage table. I saw everything from 20-year-old beauties to 60-year-old hags giving massages and blow jobs. With every viewing I relived the experience I had in Texas. I discovered videos shot in massage parlors in Viet Nam, Thailand, and Singapore where the massage therapists were nothing more than thinly disguised prostitutes, ditching the massage after 3 or 4 minutes to begin earning their tips.
On one of my trips out of the house, clad in mask and latex gloves, I drove by a suburban shopping mall a couple miles or so from my home and noticed a sign that said ‘MASSAGE’ on the towering marquee near the entrance. I doubled back and drove into the center, driving slowly in front of the shops that lined the parking lot. I slowed even more when I saw the sign above the door: Oasis Foot Spa. The front windows were completely covered with pictures of hot stones, aromatic oils, services offered, and the contented faces of people receiving massages. I parked my car down a few shops and began walking towards the parlor. As I strolled by it, I slowed and tried to see in, but there was no way I could. I got to the end of the row of shops and turned and walked back, again walking slowly by the massage parlor, almost pausing to open the door and peer inside. I wanted to but chickened out. What would I say if there was someone right on the other side of the door? Too risky, I thought. My heart had quickened though, and I felt a familiar stirring in my loins. This was exciting, flirting with the idea of going in and perhaps getting another sexy massage. I wondered if they did the same thing here, or was it what it appeared to be from the outside: a day spa offering foot reflexology, massage, waxing, and body scrubs? I hurried back to my car and sped home.
I went right to my computer and searched ‘Oasis Foot Spa’ and got an immediate hit. I saw in the Google overview that they were open until 10 pm seven days a week, and it made me suspect that it was a Rub and Tug joint. Why would you be getting a massage at 10 pm if you weren’t looking for a little action? I clicked on the link to their website and began to think maybe I was wrong. It looked very generic. It covered the services offered, had pictures of both men and women receiving massages. As I scrolled through the single-page website, I saw testimonials from both men and women. Then, near the bottom, there were three pictures, lined up horizontally. In each of them was a scantily clad young Asian woman, one in lingerie, and all showing lots of leg and bosom with unbuttoned tops. All were beautiful and had seductive looks on their faces. Then I read the small print below: Sweet Asian girl therapists, good deal. Good service and Ultimate Asian Massage Relaxation. If you are looking for an unforgettable time or discreet Asian massage experience, this is your best choice.
Damn! I thought to myself. That’s it! It has to be a Rub and Tug joint. I felt very excited at the moment, realizing there was one so close to me, and my body was surging with arousal. I briefly considered a quick wank, but wasn’t sure when my wife would be home. Instead, I pored over the website again before shutting down the computer and getting on with my day.
Over the next few months, I would frequently shop at the grocery store in the same shopping center just so I could drive by and look at the Asian massage parlor. I got out of my car a few more times and walked by it. travesti istanbul I even parked in a parking space directly across from it once and listened to music for about a half hour to see if anyone was coming or going. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I found the whole thing very stimulating, very exciting, and very arousing.
Then came news of the vaccine. My wife and I weren’t in the first group to get it. We were under 70, but over 60, so we were in the second group. Little by little life began to return to normal, and even though we still wore masks we ventured back out into the world in what we felt was a safe way. We even began to eat out in restaurants again.
With the heavy restrictions lifted, my fascination with Oasis Foot Spa began to grow. My visits to the parking lot increased in frequency. I often visited their website to see the pictures of the three beautiful young women, breasts almost bared, and those magic words, “discreet Asian massage experience” which indicated to me that I could get a tug if I went there.
I kept thinking about it, and soon it became almost all I could think about. I felt nervous about it; what if someone I knew saw me going in or coming out? I realized that was ridiculous. I had never noticed that place in five years of coming and going all around it until I saw the sign. I just was unsure after two years of what might happen inside those walls. Finally, I could wait no longer, my arousal won out. I went to the ATM at my bank and got a couple hundred in cash, then called Oasis Foot Spa. Again, a woman who spoke very little English answered and when I asked if I needed an appointment or could just walk in, she indicated I should come now. Very similar beginning to my first experience. I jumped in my car and drove there immediately. My hands were shaking a bit, my breathing was ragged, and as I approached the front door, my heart was beating hard in my chest.
I entered and found a similar small waiting room, with Chinese decorations and a fish tank. Behind the desk was an older Chinese woman wearing a protective mask who looked up and said, “You call?” I told her yes, it was me who called, and she smiled and pointed at the menu. For some strange reason, I saw the “Combo Foot Massage” for 90 minutes. 30 minutes of foot reflexology and a 60-minute massage. I thought to myself, why not treat myself to the full meal deal? I pointed to that, and the old lady said, “Ninety Dollar”.
Knowing I should pay in advance, I peeled off 4 twenties and a ten from my wad and handed them to her. She wrote something in her book, pocketed the money, and indicated that I should follow her. As we walked through the curtain, I noted that this place had the same vibe as the place in Texas. It just felt the same, and with the payment in advance I was feeling pretty sure that I was about to have some fun. Again, there was a long hallway with doors on either side. At the end of the hallway, I saw a group of three young Asian women who tittered and scattered as soon as we were through the curtain, disappearing into the rooms at the back.
Instead of going to the end of the hall, I was escorted into the first room on the left. There was a big stuffed chair with an ottoman on one side of the room, and a massage table on the other. The woman said, “Sit in chair, shoes off.” Hmmm……that didn’t sound promising, but I did as I was told.
In just a minute or two, my provider entered and closed the door behind her. She was in her 40’s, not hot or really even that good looking, with a thin body, stringy hair, and no breasts that I could really identify. In her hands she had a tub of hot water and put it down on the floor in front of the chair I was sitting in. She seemed very subservient as she bent down, rolled up my pant legs, and indicated that I should put my feet in the water. I did and found the water warm and a little oily. She left the room.
By this time my excitement was ebbing. I soaked my feet for a few minutes, and she reentered the room, this time with a towel. She indicated I should take my feet out of the water and as I did, she wrapped them in the towel, moved the tub to the side and pushed in the ottoman in so I could rest my feet on it. She pulled up a rolling stool and sat on the other side of the ottoman. As she dried my feet, I asked her, “Do you speak English?” She shook her head and laid my feet on the ottoman with the towel below them.
She began to knead my feet and used her thumbs to go deep into pressure points. Oh my god, it felt good. I had never really had a foot massage, other than for a few minutes during a full body experience. It was incredible and I felt my entire body relaxing and my mind floating. The half hour went by in what seemed like a heartbeat. She never spoke a word but would look up at me from time to time and seemed very sweet. She had a very kind look on her face.
When she had finished with the foot reflexology, she stood and pointed at the massage table and said, “clothes off”. She picked istanbul travestileri up the tub of water and left the room. Okay, I thought to myself. Here comes the good part. I wasn’t all that excited about an old skinny woman giving me a hand job, but I had come this far and I was ready. And when I say old, she was probably 10-15 years younger than me, so I really had nothing to complain about.
I hurriedly began stripping off my clothes, and when I was naked, I approached the massage table. Much to my dismay, there was a top sheet, neatly folded down to make an easy entry for me. With more than a little disappointment, I got under it and put my face down into the hole provided. In just a moment she was back and began to massage me through the sheet. What is going on, I wondered? After a bit, she moved the sheet down off my back and applied oil for a wonderful back massage. She continued through the massage, neck, shoulders, back, butt, legs, but always kept my butt mostly covered. She would uncover one side, rub my glutes, then recover and expose the other side.
Out came the hot stones, then the hot towels. There was never a single point where I was completely uncovered, and never a time that she “accidentally” grazed the boys. Then came the magic words: “You turn over”. Much to my disappointment, she held up the top sheet, shielding her eyes from my private parts, then covered me up when I was on my back. She proceeded with a very nice, very chaste massage, then patted me on the butt and said, “All done.” I looked at her with a questioning look on my face and said, “All done?”. She repeated, “All done.”.
I sat up on the edge of the massage table and wrapped the top sheet around my waist. I stood as she was gathering her oils and towels and was standing waiting for her to leave so I could dress. Then she did the oddest thing. She put down her stuff, walked over to me, and gave me a hug, holding it for a long moment. The top of her head came only up to my chest. I got the feeling as she was hugging me that she knew why I was there, and that I was somehow getting a consolation hug. She ended the hug, stepped away, gathered her things, and left. I dressed and headed for the front door.
When I got back to the waiting room, my masked provider was standing next to the counter and the same older, masked woman was behind the counter. I tipped my gal $30 for the 90 minutes, and she bowed, then scurried back behind the curtain. “You like?” the older woman at the desk asked. Feeling very disappointed, I shrugged and answered, “It was okay.”. She looked at me for a second, then pointed to the menu of services on the counter and said, “Next time, you get.” She was pointing at the 60-minute full body massage. Then she said, “Full body, you like.” She handed me a bottle of water, and I walked out the door to my car.
I felt deflated but was still very horny from my expectations. I had built up to this for almost two years and it was such a letdown. I decided to hit a local tavern for a beer before I returned home and nursed my beer for a half hour or so until I felt like I had come back down to earth and was again living in the normal world. I had invested a lot of hope and over a hundred dollars and came up with nothing but a great massage. Oh well, I said to myself. I could have worse problems.
Over the course of the next few days, I kept going over the entire experience in my mind. I was sure it was a Rub and Tug place. The vibe was there, the copy on the website, the late hours. Everything pointed to it except the experience I had. Two things stuck in my mind, though. The strange hug from my provider, and the advice from the old lady at the desk as I left. Maybe I had blown it by ordering a foot rub instead of a body rub. Maybe that’s what the old lady was trying to tell me. Maybe they thought I might be a cop. I’m too old to be a cop, but maybe they thought I could be a retired cop working undercover to expose massage parlors that were offering sexual services.
By the fifth day of mulling this all over, and still horny as hell, I decided to go back for another try. Again, to the ATM for a couple hundred dollars in cash; again the drive to the shopping center where Oasis Foot Spa was. I parked a few doors up from the joint, locked my car, then realized that I hadn’t called ahead. Remembering the three tittering girls in the back, I thought it was probably okay just to show up, so ventured forth.
As I approached, the same feeling came over me. My heart began beating harder, my hands began to shake ever so slightly, and I felt the stirring in my loins. I opened the front door and walked into an empty waiting room. A minute or more passed, and I began to have second thoughts. Then another minute or more of complete silence. Just as I was about to turn and leave, out walked the same older woman from behind the curtain, masked for Covid. Upon seeing me, rather than walk behind the counter, she approached me and gave me a hug. “You back!” she said with a happy smile. istanbul travesti “You want 60-minute full body?” She walked over to the menu and pointed to the corresponding item.
“Yes,” I replied. “The 60-minute full body.”
She smiled and said, “Good choice. We take care you.” She walked behind the counter and became all business again. “Sixty Dollar,” she said. Hoping she didn’t detect the slight shaking of my hands with excitement and nervousness, I took my two-hundred-dollar wad out of my pocket and peeled off three twenties. I made sure she saw that I had more.
She wrote down something in her book, pocketed my sixty dollars, then looked up and said, “One moment.” She disappeared behind the curtain, and when she reappeared, she had a thirtyish, full-figured Asian girl with her. From what I could see behind her mask she was a beauty for sure. Thick hair to her shoulders, wearing a tight black tank top with a deep scoop neck and tight black yoga pants to mid-calf. A bit of a full waist, but also full breasts and a full, round booty. The older woman said, “This Anna, she take good care you.”
With that, Anna took my hand and led me through the curtain and down the hallway, past the first door on the left, all the way to the rear, standing by the last door on the left and motioning me to enter. She followed me in. I was amazed at the size of the room; there was a shower stall in the corner, a corner set of couches opposit, and in the middle of the room, a massage table. New age music played quietly. A three-fold standing screen blocked any view from the door into the room.
Anna smiled at me and said, “Clothes off,” then left, closing the door behind her. I couldn’t believe I was in the same place. Perhaps I had passed some test, and I was now deemed worthy of the sexual service. I was becoming more and more aroused as I began to undress. The greeting from the woman at the front, Anna holding my hand as she led me to the room, the shower in the corner. All led me to think that I had been right. This was a Rub and Tug. The final indication was that when I had shed all my clothes and prepared to lay down on the table, there was no top sheet. Only a small towel.
I grabbed the small white towel and lay face-down on the table. Reaching back, I laid the towel haphazardly over my butt, got my face comfortable in the hole, and waited for Anna to return. Just as I was getting settled in, I heard the door crack open and Anna’s voice. “Ready?” she asked. “Come on in,” I replied.
The first thing she did was whip the towel off my butt. There I was again, completely exposed. I spread my legs a little further apart on the table as a signal to her that I was ready for anything. She got up on the foot of the table and knelt between my spread legs, and I was aware that she must be gazing right at my ass and balls. She gave me a very, very thorough massage of my upper legs, butt, and lower back, being completely comfortable with grazing my balls as she rubbed. After 10 minutes or so of her establishing that she wasn’t shy about touching my stuff, she got off the table and stood at the head of the table. She leaned over me, dropping her breasts onto the back of my head, and began rubbing my back. As she reached down to get to my lower back, my head was trapped in her cleavage. She then hopped up on the table and straddled my head. She began massaging my lower back and butt, dropping her crotch right on to the back of my head. With light pressure, I could feel her pussy against my scalp through her yoga pants. Brief, but very effective. I was becoming more and more aroused.
The thought went through my mind that I wanted to roll over and have her rub her yoga pant-clad pussy against my face. With that thought, I realized that I was getting hard, and wished I had pre-arranged my cock to be pointing straight up. It was bent, and I was laying on it, and it became uncomfortable as it began to engorge. I lifted my pelvis briefly, hoping it would straighten itself out, but I wasn’t hard enough yet.
Anna got up off my head and moved to the foot of the table and while she did I reached under and arranged my cock in a more comfortable position. She began working on my feet, then on my calves. Her touch felt wonderful, and none of the sexual magic of her pussy on my head abated. I could feel her gaze on my spread legs and balls and began to feel comfortable that she could see my very private parts. In fact, I liked it. She paused and moved to my left side. Concentrating on my hamstrings, she applied pressure to the backs of my thighs and moved her oiled hands upward towards my junk. Stopping just short, she reached across to my other leg and did the same. Every time her hand got near my crotch, I would get a surge of excitement in my cock. She picked up her oil and drizzled it across my ass and down the backs of my thighs. Then she paused.
A moment passed, and then I felt it, the oil drizzling onto the back of my ball sack. She slowly and lazily let the small wisp of oil drizzle all over my sensitive sack. Setting the oil down, she began to rub my butt, deep strokes that challenged my glutes to not flex. Then down to my hamstrings. After a good workout of the backs of my thighs she turned her attention to the money spot, Junior and the boys.