Category — massage

The concept of “dirty” lives well in a massage parlor.

Under your fingernails, is it clean? Under your arms, is it clean? Swipe the counter top in your local diner - is it clean? The bottom of yours shoes, which you wear on the public streets and then into your own bedroom… is any of it clean?

Germs everywhere, but what is “dirty”? I once waited for a friend in a brothel apartment in Toronto. She was working there just for a few days, because she was in a very tight squeeze and needed money. The owner was renting the place out for outcall, and a spanish girl was organizing the activities.  The spanish girl put an ad in the paper that said “Yes, Greek” with a phone number. The craziest dudes showed up there, all thinking they were going to enjoy anal sex with a prostitute. And they did. That place was filthy. The few minutes I was there, I saw used condoms on the floor under the sink, and slimy bottles of lotion that I can only imagine were covered with unspeakable germ colonies. My friend said it was a clean place - they insisted on double condoms for everything. I noticed there was no shower, and the bathroom towels were cloth towels that obviously needed to be exchanged a few days ago. My friend said that was the problem with spanish girls… they didn’t do anything that wasn’t specifically for themselves… like care about the common towel laundry. What does “clean” mean?

In any massage parlor I have ever worked, there was a focus on cleanliness. Hot towels from a steamer,  sink in the room or very close by, use-once towels and sheets. I could never ask a customer to lay down on a bed with hairs from a prior customer, or oil stains or worse. In a massage parlor, dirt is evidence of a prior customer. And that concept continues for the attendant (me). There is to be no evidence on me of any prior customer, invisible germ or otherwise.  It’s just the way I do things.

I’m involved in the opening of a new massage parlor in Los Angeles. It is under the radar for now, because the owner doesn’t have a CO (certificate of occupancy) but it will be legit one day soon. Funny thing is, since it is not legit, it is really not legit. Understand?

Massage girls think like this: if you’re breaking the law, you might as well get paid. So if merely being in a no-CO business makes you liable for prosecution, why not whore for money? A lesser perspective has been prevalent for many years in the Chinese massage parlors, compared to Korean massage parlors. The koreans will give hand jobs and nothing else, almost out of principle. But the chinese massage girls say that why give a hand job for $40 or $60 when the law says it is prostitution? As long as you’re going to get dirty, you might as well get $120 so do full service. It’s a cultural thing, I think.

Anyway so we’re finishing construction, and the guys who put in the plumbing are raising the costs every hour because they think they’re going to get paid in pussy. Maybe they are, I’m not sure, but it is funny to watch them as they think no one is watching. They waste so much time, hide parts they say we need, and basically steal from the owner. I’ll make sure she knows everything I know before she pays the bills.

The press and the media portray the  girls selling their bodies as the whores, but often it is the customer or “john” that is the real whore. They sometimes give up so much just for that half hour of sexual excitement, one needs to investigate why it has so much value to them — and the flip side of that, which is what value they get for themselves. If what they get is worth more than a few hundred dollars of currency, aren’t they the whores?

This email came in from a reader. He is a long time customer of sensual massage, but now he finds himself whoring himself out to women in exchange for stuff.  Sometimes he  pawns the stuff he gets for cash, and sometimes he just destroys it or uses it until he the thrill is gone. The core similarity is he is addicted to selling his attention and his body to women, who buy it with gifts and cash. Those women probably don’t think they are soliciting prostitution. He didn’t think he was whoring, until recently when he read some of my erotic massage bog and recognized himself.

His story is being edited and will be published next, right here. Let me know your thoughts in a comment.

Sensual and Erotic Massage… sounds so cool. But it’s a dirty business.

It wasn’t always that way. There was a time just a few years ago when an erotic or sensual massage girl had to know how to give a good massage. She had to know how to look like the girl next door, while suggesting through her looks that the girl next door was capable of some very exciting activities. I think the men out there know what I mean.

It doesn’t take a genius to recognize a street walker on The Track at Vancouver, Canada or near the tunnel in New York City. If you are driving alone along the access roads to the Lincoln Tunnel in New York at 11 pm and not simply entering the tunnel Jersey bound, then everyone and his cousin knows you’re cruising for a hooker. There is no other reason to be there. And just to make sure you know what a hooker is, the girls there wear Hollywood Hooker clothes… Fredericks of Hollywood, that is. Very skimpy and shiny and practically glued-on clothes. Most guys don’t know that the tunnel hookers in New York don’t actually take anything off nor do they let you touch much… it’s all for show. The real patrons know to visit the Queens side bridge for the real whores.

But while those super-obvious sex workers cater to the visual thrill seekers, the massage girls used to cater to the quiet indulgers. The guys who didn’t want to cruise barren industrial streets after hours in search of pooty tang. The massage was the act… hands on touch therapy. Touch touch touch and then maybe a little extra special touch towards the end of the session, if you know what I mean. Taking off my top back then was very optional, and actually rather rare in those days. A fondling through the shirt at the moment of release was far more common than a bare breast hanging in front of a wanting mouth, as seems to be the case today.

Back then I witnessed more ejaculations under sheets than across massage tables. If a guy wanted to be managed to stress relief, it was a forbidden treasure that usually involved an upright pole raising the sheets, and my hand beneath those sheets helping raise the flag. Discretion was part of the thrill. He knew what was going on, and I knew, and the sheets would later reveal its wet spots but all through the event the eye contact expressed shared excitement at the thrill of forbidden fruit. The “ahhh” was far more exciting than laborious. Today, it seems erotic and sensual massage is work for you guys. It could even be compared to stress… fancy that. Getting off in a massage parlor for some of you guys these days seems more stressFULL than stress release. And I think it’s because you’ve lost the thrill of the forbidden treasure.

Back then, of a girl wrapped her palm around your crotch, handling you through your jeans while looking into your eyes and suggesting she might help you to a little stress release, the guy was shocked and excited and anxious to go find a quiet place with her. Nowadays, if I do that the guy more often than not says something aggressive, like “I’ll bend you over and show you what stress release is” or something else that is relatively harsh. Had I wanted to get “fucked”, or even better “fucked wildly from behind” I would not have wrapped my palm around your gonads and brought my lips close to yours, daring you with my eyes. I would have raised my skirt almost far enough, turned away from you and pressed the crack of my ass against your stiffening pole. Come on, guys, get with the program. If you can’t match the girls communications, you won’t please her. And if you don’t please her, or at least show the potential for pleasing her, she won’t be into you. If I say I want to play secretly as per forbidden fruit, that’s what I mean. I didn’t say I wanted to experience your best attempt at rape play.

There was a day when, in the final minutes of a good hand job after a solid massage session, I would bring my warm mouth close to the head of his anxious penis and blow gently, and perhaps extend the tip of my tongue just enough to enable him to sense the moistness of my mouth. He would sigh in feigned distress, as if in pain that my forward movement of mouth to penis was not (yet) a blow job. He would tell me I was killing him with the tease, and beg me to swallow him. I would resist, but I would eventually lick, and as I licked he would come, and it would be perfect.

Nowadays if I do that I get grabbed by the hair in an attempt to choke me with a rod stuffed down my throat. Yeah, that’s real sexy and inviting, eh? Or better, I get whiny “bitch” like comments that suggest the client isn’t getting what he paid for, or is otherwise being cheated because I’m not letting him throat fuck me. Gimme a break. It’s erotic and sensual massage, not Sadie’s Whorehouse. Or is it?

More on massage parlors.

You want what?

You want me to touch you where?

I don’t understand.

Show me what you want.

Oh. I see. Well, I don’t do that usually.

The boss is very strict. I could lose my job!

At what point did you offer her money? I bet, and you should correct me in the comments if you think I am wrong, that you didn’t offer her money until you go to that last stage.

But the smart guys out there offered the money at stage 1, and never got any of the rest of those comments. They just had a good time, and learned a lot about their massage therapist.

This story was told to me by a customer and friend. He came in for the usual - a sensual massage session scheduled to last 42 minutes, leaving him the necessary 8 minutes for manual release, and the 10 minute transition time. He loved my “regularity”, but I always knew he played with “private stock” girls on the side. On this day, he was a bit shaken up because he ran into an old PS girl of his in the grocery. While that is not normally a rough situation, this time it was because she was “reformed”. It went something like this:

“Well, I used to be a filhty whore so maybe you fucked me. Are you still a filthy John?“

He saw her across the aisle, and knew that he knew her from somewhere. As a fan of asian ladies, he was always finding ways to know them in the daily life, so it was not odd to recognize a lady and not be able to place her. He loved asian women, always sought to know them if he could, and was always open to any opportunity to have sex with them. Of course he frequented asian massage parlors, but, as he had told me many times, while he liked to screw the asian women, he didn’t enjoy them for manual efforts such as hand release or oral sex.

So when he saw her and she saw him he recognized her but not entirely. But then, as he tells it, she looked him squarely in the eye the way only a working girl does. She looked at him as if to challenge his courage. The brief working girl eye-2-eye stare says “yes, you know I am a whore, and I say so what, and I say do you have the balls to be who you really are, too, or are you just a poser?“. ( I swear, that’s what he told me… men!)

So anyway he took the hint and said hello. She gave him a hello back, but nothing more. Then he said “I feel like I know you, but I’m not sure from where?“. Expecting her to say “don’t worry, honey, I’ll never tell” or “Thanks for remembering me, honey. Next time come back to see me again before you forget me” or any of the other dozen responses he had heard from former pass-by-girls when meeting them on the streets of Flushing. But he wasn’t ready for what she said (very loudly): “Well, I used to be a filhty whore so maybe you  fucked me. Are you still a filthy John?”

Ouch. Remember what they say about prostitutes: you don’t pay them for sex, you pay them to leave afterwards. In this case, she had been reformed and was now righteous. Is there nothing scareier than a reformed, righteous ex-whore that you remember?

It’s 4pm. I am taking a break for an hour, and then the next guy to walk in for a massage session and treat me nicely is in for a treat. I will deliver a very good massage. And then I will leave the room, and return in an elf outfit. I bought it yesterday. It is red with white frill, and a very short skirt with red boots and a red jacket top and a red hat. I will not wear panties nor a bra, just the skirt and the jacket buttoned once.

I will smile from pointed ear to pointed ear. I will  say “Santa doesn’t think you were naughty enough this year, so he  sends you a present! Do you want it now?”

What do you think he will say? What do you think I will do with my bare bottom and short sleeves with semi-exposed chest?

The only chance YOU have of enjoying this treat, is go visit your local massage parlor RIGHT NOW and book a session. What have you got to lose?  Be sure to say Happy Holidays or whatever you preferred greeting is, and be nice. You may just discover an elf!

I’m going to piss off a few wives with this post, but reality is reality. I just got back from a “trade show” where I decided to work as a “working girl”. Interesting experience.

First, let me say I won’t be revealing names on my blog. Second, I will admit the guys looking for my eyes at  the show were *exactly* like the guys putting dollar bills in my garter at the strip club. No difference. Same dudes. Same cheap bastards.

Massage parlor patrons are much more private and appreciative than Trade Show Mongers. I will stick to the “you come to me, honey” massage parlor business for a while. I did make some decent coin as they say, but it was uglier work than I enjoy.

Oh, and for you wives out there? I am so sorry for your situations. You really should evaluate losingthese guys and checking out the world on your own.

Okay so it has been a good day. I made some good money, met a few nice guys, and learned a few new tricks. For the armchair whores out there, here’s today’s score 3-6-5-9-2:

• how many times my delicate and skilled hands have been on someone else’s genitalia during the prior 24 hours 3
• how many times I have been asked to deliver sexual services for a fee during the prior 24 hours 6
• how many client sessions (overall, non-sexual and sexual) I have closed during the last 24 hours 5
• my general state of arousal at the time of the post (1 to 10, 10 being the most horny) 9
• my general state of disgust with the human race at the time of the post (1 to 10, 10 being humans are garbage) 2

This is a new website and I want to get it indexed in search engines so people can read my posts. So if you have a webpage where you can put links, please link to me. It will help. You can link to me as Cuntlet, or massage girl, or massage parlor girl, or whatever you like if those are not good. If you do help me out, please let me know with a comment.

I just got a message from a man who has been visiting massage parlors for twenty years! He wrote such a nice letter, I have asked him to edit it so I can post it here. He agreed, so like you, it is coming soon!