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A customer got a full service half hour last night for $80 plus $40 house fee. That’s the lowest market price in ten years.

This economy is rough. Pocket money is scarce. The cost of living has not gone down, yet the number of customers has. This puts downward pressure on the girls to make money. And if the customer wants something, and only has $120 before paying the $40 house fee, she is left with a situation. She needs to do what it takes to get that $80 from the customer. Will he settle, or will he only stay if he gets full service? And if he does get full service, there is another problem. He has to be happy.

Don’t forget that once inside the room, no one knows what happens. The manager only knows that Girl A went inside the room with paying customer #1. If the customer doesn’t get satisfaction, for any reason, it reflects on the girl. She won’t get the next customer. She will not be “as good” as another girl, so she won’t get the better customers. What does $80 buy? It used to buy a massage and a release, topless or with roaming as is needed to get the job done. Is it really enough to get full service from these ladies?

You may not know that these workers are on 3 month shifts. They move here and live here. They have very limited expenses, and save almost everything they make, sending it home via money orders or bank deposits every few days. At the end of their time, they have made X amount of money for 3 months dedication.

So when you come in, especially towards the end of the 3 month term, and you don’t have much money, you probably get a bargain. And the bargains I have seen in the last few days, leading up to the holiday season, are better than I remember in the last ten years.

Of course I am not talking about workers with choices. I’m talking about full time, live in workers hustling to make a living on the circuit. If your local massage parlor employs local women who live in the nearby communities and support families, and have dreams of opening their own nail salons someday, you may not persuade them with your $80. Some girls draw a line. But still, I have not seen $80 full service in a major American city for at least 10 years, outside of the fly by night Spanish brothels or 15 minute places.

I’m glad I don’t do 30 minute sessions. I don’t even know how you can go from “Hi My Name Is…” to finished full service and getting dressed in 30 minutes.  It’s not my game.

This just in from a friend… it’s a report from the real world we all live in. A world of righteous liars and abusive authority. If you support your own authorities (police, lawyers, judges) you may be supporting people who behave as described. Don’t be fooled into thinking that when it is your turn, they will treat you any better. They won’t. As long as we all allow them to lie and abuse people, they will grow stronger in their ability to lie and abuse you, too.

The massage parlor was doing okay. It was open seven days a week, staffed 10 hours a day. It earned a few thousand dollars profit each month, after all the bills were paid. Someone was always working. The workers gave their lives, for a few months at a time, to hard work. No side life. No friends. No distractions. Just hard work, every day, for several months until they moved on (usually back home) with their savings. Who worked here? Transient workers. Not unlike farm workers. People who knew massage, has massage certificates, and worked in various massage parlors in various cities. You may have known them as “june” or “sarah” or “sue”, common names assumed by Asian massage ladies when they work anonymously in massage parlors.

But they are not anonymous. They are certified, having paid thousands of dollars for the school credits required for a massage license or permit. They had green cards and driving licenses, ID numbers and bank accounts. Just like you and me, they were easily tracked through the system for credit, identity, and of course legality. You may have thought them anonymous, but they were no different than any of us if anyone wanted to check. And the owners, too, were not anonymous. They lived locally, had registered and paid annual permits, carried insurance and paid lawyers and accountants for all of the paperwork required. The typical owner has 2 or more such parlors, because it is not possible to live on a few thousand dollars a month (before taxes). It is possible to live on a few thousand a month after taxes, which is what most owners make.

Keep in mind I’m not referring to syndicated brothel owners. I’m talking about massage parlor owners.

So when a competing business harassed the local police to check on this massage parlor, the police sent undercover agents to “check it out”. On that day, a new girl started working in the parlor. It was her first day. She was referred by another worker that needed coverage for her shift. The owner asked if she had her certificate and was ok by immigration – she did and said she had a green card.

The police sent at least a half dozen people to the parlor. They waited outside, while one called in for an appointment. The worker accommodated him. She was reported to be friendly and happy, and the officers later called her stupid for not having noticed the several marked police cars outside when she unlocked the door for the undercover agent. To them, she was an idiot for opening the door, letting the guy in, and not noticing the police cars.

This is the first indication of the level of disrespect our police have for us. They had no reason other than a competitor’s complaint to suspect anything was wrong, but they treated us like criminals. It gets worse.

Once inside, the undercover hinted he wanted extras, and had money, and eventually got the new girl to somehow acknowledge she would do something for extra money. We don’t actually know what happened, because the recording he made doesn’t reveal anything factual. Nothing unusual was recorded. Nothing incriminating was said. There weren’t even any pauses as you might have imaged there might be if someone was answering a question with hand gestures. You’d agree if you heard the recording yourself. But you won’t ever hear it.

The officer’s written report said she made gestures offering sex for money. He also said he had a lot of experience investigating massage parlors. He said he knew from the way they answered the phone, whether or not they were legitimate. He said he knew from the language they used in their advertisements, whether or not they were legitimate. He said all of this and more to a judge, and asked the judge to rule that the massage parlor was an illegal prostitution operation, that the owner knew all abut it, and that his boss could take everything of value to be sold for cash at auction, and close the business.

No one actually knows what gestures might have gone back and forth between the clearly biased undercover cop who already believed in his heart that this woman was a prostitute, and the woman who gave up a regular life to work three months straight, 7 days a week, to save money to solve her financial problems. If he offered her $200 cash for a hand release, would she be tempted? As a regular woman away from home on a job for 3 months in order to save money, would she have been tempted? We don’t know. We won’t ever know, because the officer lied. Over and over he lied to make his claim appear to be true. It wasn’t enough for him to say she offered him services for money. he had to stretch every other detail he could account, to make it sound as if it further supported his claim that this obviously prostitution business. Almost every stretch he made could be easily countered by any decent lawyer, in any court. But there is no opportunity for that.

The officer interviewed the owner, and made notes. He then lied, saying she said things she didn’t say. He said what she meant when she answered his questions, as if he were both King Solomon and a psychic. He lied to make a good case. And the judge accepted his lies as fact, without checking, and approved prosecution of the girl and the massage parlor owner based on the officer’s claims.

You probably don’t know that this is how it is done. If you review the paperwork, it sounds good. A solid report from an experienced policeman, given to a judge with a request to shut down what is claimed to be a public nuisance. Sounds like good work. But what if the business was legitimate? Shouldn’t there be some way to counter the claims? Protest the accusations? Demand that the accusers prove, even a little bit, what they claim? Of course if you are American you are thinking that is possible.. that the massage girl and owner just need a defense attorney, to plead innocent, argue, make a deal, etc. But that’s not how it goes.

What really happened is the defense attorney got a settlement agreement from the prosecutor, as the only practical option. The Judge approved it before it was presented to the accused. The massage girl and owner were told to sign the agreement, admitting they were knowingly in the business of prostitution, co-owners of the business, and that they had done everything that was claimed. They were told that they could sign it or choose to fight several separate court cases. The defense lawyer, the one recommending his client sign the agreement, said the cost of continuing in court would start at $40,000, and that he needed that cash up front or he would not take the case. A second lawyer was consulted, and he at first said the same thing. Then, after hearing who the current defense attorney was, he outright declined to take the case.

Consider for yourself what this means. Your legal system, rigged this way, not only removes your rights but also your options. The owner was forced to sign a paper admitting all sorts of things that were not true. A direct question to the defense attorney — “why do you want me to lie to the court” went unanswered. In actually, with the Judge’s approval, the court demanded that she lie, or face ruin. There was no fair trial, and no option for fair process at all.

If you want to say “she should have stood up for herself and if she was innocent, she would win her case” you need to wake up. Making a few thousand dollars a month from each of a few massage parlors (not syndicated brothels), the owner cannot shell out $40,000 cash to a lawyer, let alone a lawyer that does not seem to have her best interests in mind. And don’t forget the $40,000 was to get started. There was no estimate of wat it would actually cost to handle the cases.

What does this mean for you, the neighbor living in this world? It means the next massage parlor will be a dirty brothel, because only prostitution money can afford to pay corrupt lawyers and judges colluding to trap and abuse massage workers. Small business owners are being taught that they better cheat and steal, because good guys finish last, and if there is ever any doubt, they had better have a way out because the truth will not set you free.

Shame on the lawyers who participate in this corruption. Shame on the judges who don’t bother to provide their citizens with access to fairness, in their own courts. Shame on the police who abuse their authority to impose their will on those they consider anonymous or stupid. Was that girl really stupid? No, she was very nice. She loved people, liked to help people, was simply doing her best to be friendly and happy and accommodating to the new customer at the door. Why would she look around to see police cars? Why would she be concerned if she saw them? She was just like you and me… not afraid of the police who might be outside or in the neighborhood. But she will be untrusting and afraid of our “authorities” from now on.

At every step it was clear that everyone accepted that the owner and workers were knowingly engaging in prostitution, had money, and would be unharmed by getting fucked by this process of judicial rape. To them it’s just money and paperwork, admission of guilt in a non-criminal context. Push them through to accept the settlement, take their cash and confiscate their stuff, and send them back out to start over. No big deal, right?

Wrong. It is a big deal. You are corrupt and in the wrong, and doing harm. With every abuse of power you shave away the authority you expect to be granted by the people. You take away their trust, and leave them powerless and rightfully afraid of you. And that will come back to hurt you later. When you least expect it, when you fully expect the citizenry you claim to protect will support you, perhaps in a situation of legal challenge or maybe at a time when you are injured and in need of help, the people will let you down. Educated judges know this. They actually require their lawyers to “maintain the public trust in the bar”. But as these corrupt authorities continue, the people lose trust. They learn that although you wear a uniform that suggests you protect the people and preserve the peace, you are actually a bad guy to be feared. When you fall injured, they won’t help you. When you need help, they will look forward to your demise. Given the opportunity, more and more will don black masks and throw rocks at the police, seeing force as the only option when faced with unjust and abusive force imposed upon them unfairly. Where will that leave us? I don’t know, but I do know that it isn’t the fault of the girl who may or may not have actually agreed to give a hand job for $40 while no one was looking, or the owner who gave her a chance to work her way out of her financial distress as a massage provider. No, it’s your fault. You’re fucking it all up, and we will all suffer the consequences someday.

what a mess

Put your answer in the comments! Where (what city) and when (what year) did you enjoy the best tasting massage girl of your life? No names please, but do tell what you remember, especially why you remember the taste part (was it a kiss, a secret taste, a mouthfull etc).

This story came from old friend, who is now sending me email. He says “Hi Missy. This is my short story. I’m writing it to you from my car, instead of going in to see an Asian massage girl“.

Here I am in my car. It’s raining. Noisy rain, late afternoon. It is getting dark and the rain helps everything hide. If I walk on the street no one will see me. No one sees anyone in this city when it is getting dark in late afternoon and it is raining hard. Everyone is going somewhere. On the dark street in the rain I am anonymous. Anonymous as I leave my car parked in this lot, and walk across to the massage parlor with the neon OPEN sign. Like I did last week. But I am not doing today.

It is so easy. Pussy awaits me 150 feet over there. Comfort and adventure waits for me. She sits and watches TV, talks on her cell phone, and waits. Dressed in a sun dress and panties, she waits all day. Will I show up? Will any one show up? Who will it be? Or will no one come in today?

In my real world, nakedness is managed one body part at a time. Behind layers of individual clothing pieces, skin hides from the air, the sun, any contact with others. What skin is exposed is covered with make up or hair. If I want to see skin, I have to beg or trade or plead or pull mind tricks. Even then, if I make progress, I have to get past buttons, zippers, hooks, and layers and layers. Half the time I regret having made whatever deal I made to get past the armor, and the regret distracts me from enjoying.

In my real world, there is no copping of a feel. A brush by produces nothing but pressure from “something” under the clothes, and usually demands an apology. Afterwards I wonder, was that a breast, or a knee? They feel the same when hidden behind numerous layers of cardboard, foam, and fabrics passed off as bras and “tops”.

But when I brush my hand across the breast of my massage girl, my fingers stumble across her erect nipple, fingertips no more than one thin polyester layer away from that soft skin. I can see her with my fingertips. I can feel her life. When I stand over her less than 5 foot frame, as she unbuttons my shirt, I see right down the front of her sun dress. I see her breasts, her nipples, and the soft skin of her belly. When I raise my hands up along her sides, my fingers drag her sun dress up to expose her thighs and buttocks. She doesn’t pull it back down. She doesn’t react. She simply allows. In that room, the natural order rules. In that room, I succeed.

But not today. Today, I stay in the car.

I remember the first time I visited a massage parlor. I was on a roll. I had just quit my job, standing up to my ass of a boss for the first time in almost 15 years. I told him off, and quit. It was a winning moment. I had struggled to work up to it for many years, and for some reason woke up that day ready to take back what was mine — my dignity and freedom. Everyone witnessed my effort, and everyone saw me win.

I drove away from work at high speed, damn the torpedoes. I had won. I was victorious! Yet if I drove home I would be shown I was a loser. A jobless loser. And reminded of what a shit I was now in, with no job and a mortgage to pay. Everyone from the wife to the neighbor would react the same way… what will you do now? they’d say, missing the point completely. I couldn’t go home.

I drove on the highway. I went fast and determined, right into the city center. I had a phone number scribbled on the back page of my mileage log for almost a year — a secret late night place for when a visiting client wanted to party. I had never been to such places, but heard all the stories. It was 3:30 in the afternoon. I parked and called. I was told I could “come up honey”. I went.

Inside I was out of my element, in a world run by warm women who knew how to calm a beast. I didn’t have to request, demand, direct, or ask for anything. They knew what to do. They smelled the testosterone. They senses the tension. They simply knew I needed attention, and they knew they had what I needed.

I remember handing her my money, not knowing exactly how much it was or what her price was. It didn’t matter to me, and apparently it was enough for her. She set me at ease immediately. They all handled me perfectly, from the older lady who escorted me in with a warm, positive “of course we have what you need” attitude to the little cutie who came into the room to help me remove my clothes. Professionals, focused entirely on solving my problem, whatever it was.

In that hour I remember I was touched softly, caressed lovingly, grabbed passionately, managed professionally and practically carried through a course of events that left me exhausted, completely satisfied, and feeling like a winner. I always remember that first experience as being like a hunt. Like a raw blood and guts hunt, cavemen chasing vicious wild animal. We chased caught and conquered the beast, drinking its blood and reveling in the warmth of its death. I guess it was she and I who conquered, but it was really just me being taken expertly through the stages of caring, to caress to tease, to titillation and then arousal, on to strenuous physical activity, and finally explosive release upon victory. I conquered while she encouraged. I remember I wept after, while gasping for breath, and she joked which made me laugh, and it was all good.

And that was the start of my addiction.

But today, I stay here. I’m okay today. Things are good. I finished work on time today, and I have a promising day to look forward to tomorrow. I’m on my way home now to relax with a drink and maybe watch some TV.

Right over there, waiting for me day after day, is that sweet little body all warm and ready to take care of me. No questions, no demands, no problems. Just ready. If I want it. If not, it will wait until tomorrow. Or the next day. For when I need it.

I appreciate that so much Missy. I really do.

I heard a funny one yesterday. A gentleman comes in for the first time, and agima gives him to me. Not the best idea, because I’m amazing and he’s new. All I’m going to do is play with him and then leave the room and send in the new girl. He will be sad. But she will also be put on the spot. She has to make him happy enough to come back looking for her, but at the same time, she has to be careful with the new guy.

So the guy spends his 40 minutes and leaves happy. And she seems ok. I have no idea what went on, so I ask. What did he want?

“He likes push me”, she says. I ask her sternly .. she didn’t do full service with him, did she? Of course she says no. “But he really wants push me”, she says again. Okay. So I figure he tired his best, and got a release. Since he wants to do her, he’ll come back.

Today he comes back, happy as a clam. I chat him up, and find out she gave him a thrill he said was “better than a new tattoo”. The two of them went to a 69 position, her on top, and she gave him a show while releasing him. He, apparently, went to town on her the whole time. What’s with the “new tattoo” thing?

He’s back today because he can’t shake the image of her “push-ee” in his face, and he keeps thinking back to it and feeling giddy just like the way he keeps lifting his sleeve and smiling at a new tattoo for days after he gets one. She as even better than a new tattoo… even more of an “amazing visual” he says. With no pain!

Visual I bet. And wet and sensual and furry and hot and probably. She called it “push me” but that was just bad-teeth Korean for “pussy”. He wanted pssuy, and he got it, even if he couldn’t dip the wick. Wow… what goes on behind closed doors.

They spent an hour together today. He was very happy, she quiet as usual. He’ll be back before Friday. Those two were made for each other.

Hello to my New York area friends. I wore jeans on my way here and that was a BIG mistake. New York is so humid, it’s worse than Tampa! I thought I looked great in my Fornarina jeans but here I am so sweaty they feel like they don’t bend and weight 500 pounds. When I got to my bed I had to peel them off before my shower.

Looks like I’ll be shopping tomorrow!

Hi guys. I’m changing plans. I came to Seattle but it was too hot. Hotter than Las Vegas for me. I didn’t know that about Seattle. I also didn’t know about the Asians here. Where I come from, we have to work hard and be smart like foxes. But it seems in Seattle you can grow up like an American girl. Lazy and not knowing what to do with life. Again, I don’t understand Seattle.

I went to a few clubs with some girlfriends but they were like children given pocket money to spend. No thinking, just dress up and then move with the crowd. They let the boys (and I do mean boys, not men) drive everywhere, pay for everything, and make deals with the club owners and guards. I thought these guys were like pimps, that’s how bad it was. And the girls just drank to get drunk. What fun is that? And the food is terrible. The International District at 2am serves what I would not give to homeless in LA. It’s not expensive but it’s garbage so why buy it or think of eating?

I think the comparison of these Asian girls is like the tease and the flirt. Smart girls know how to flirt. Stupid girls that try to flirt only tease. You know what happens to girls who tease. I like to flirt.

My travels are not so fun this time. I thought this time I would spend my time with Asians and girls in this life but that has been a mistake. So I am changing plans. I am going to New York even though I hate it there in summer, I have to reset. My friends there are very connected and I can change everything from there.

New York tomorrow and probably no blogging because my writer friends are hard to reach these days. I do need help editing. I’ll write soon enough.

I willbe in Spring Lake before the weekend and also look for me at Atlantic City. I like Tropicana and Trump Taj and Bally’s. My friend used to manager a massage place right near the Hilton, that was closed many, many times. The only good thing about it was that it had smart, young Korean girls who knew what they were doing and why they were doing it. Last time I was there I went out every night with girls from there, for a lot of fun. Too much cocaine in the clubs that time (I avoid that) but I fit better with those girls than these west coast generations. Hard work is necessary, and fun should be fun,not just frenzy busy time.

I am enjoying meeting new people and stopping into a few massage places as I travel, even though I wasn’t planned to be working in any massage places. It’s just that things are a bit slow with this economy, and my friends have been dragging me around to meet their friends, which leads me to massage places.. currently in LA, San Francisco’s next, and then Portland, Seattle, Salt Lake and Las Vegas.

I stayed extra long in LA this time, and will only stop by San Francisco this time (a day or so?)

My question to you is, where in those cities should I stop by? Post comments with places (name, address if you have it) and if you know anyone there, gimme a name so I can check in ahead of time. Also tell me if you know if it is korean or chinese or russian or whatever… I have a few friends traveling in and out with me in these cities, of various ethnic persuasions, who can connect for me. I may take pictures of myself outside the storefronts for fun, or inside with the ladies, if it works out. Otherwise, I’ll just stop by and meet the girls, and talk about buying places (that usually gets me a pass).

If you look for me, I will always be wearing a noticeable belt… it is my signature item for this tour. I have many and am collecting more as I shop, but I am noticing that I am usually the only one wearing a belt in the places I have been visiting. If you notice and say “hello Missy” you won’t embarass yourself (we’re all Missy, right?) but if I come around and take your arm and thank you for welcoming me to your city, you will know it is me

I’m hitting the road for a few weeks. San Diego, LA, San Francisco, Portland, Seattle, a brief stop in Alaska (to fish!) and then Salt Lake City Utah. Las Vegas, Phoenix, Denver, Kansas City and then of all places, Cleveland Ohio (but just for a day thank God). I will then return to Tampa for just one week, and summer up north until I return to Florida in late September.

I won’t write much but I will be checking comments and emails. I’m visiting a lot of people in just a few months, but hopefully I will enjoy myself more than the last time i made the rounds. And I will be so happy to leave Tampa… you guys who run the dancers down here (you know who you are) I’m just so not into you at all, and very glad I’m Asian.

Note from Missy: This is from a customer friend. He showed me he was writing to me, and I told him to send it to me and I would blog it. Let me know what you think…

I am composing this story in my head, as I lay here on a plain but clean massage table, in a dark, not unpleasant room, awaiting my attendant’s return. I will write it up later, and send it off to Miss June for her blog. It is my perspective – a man’s perspective – of the beauty of sensual asian-style massage parlors. I hope it tells a story, the way Missy tells her stories of her massage world.

I have been going to Asian massage parlors since 1995, when I first had real troubles in my life. I was a successful junior executive. I had climbed the corporate ladder on my merits. I didn’t play politics. Hell I didn’t even understand them, but my performance was exemplary. I am a salesman, and I know people, so I love to sell and my sales numbers reflect that. When I am on my game, I can sell ice to Alaskan ice vendors. I was on my game until I ran into office politics and was thrown for a loop. I was off balance, confused, and the jerk pulling the corporate strings was killing my career while I stumbled. While I hesitated, confused that some asshole would make it his business to ruin my career, he chopped me up and I was close to getting fired. That is when I visited my first massage parlor.

I was working in New Jersey, commuting into New York 4 days per week, while spending the other two in South Jersey. I drove a nice comfortable car, and spent a lot of time in traffic. Back then the parkway was still fast-moving, except for accidents and tolls. It was normal to travel a hundred miles south to north and back, but when you hit an accident you had to wait it out. These days you don’t plan to do that because traffic is ridiculous all the time, but back then it was okay.

I would rather get off the parkway and roam around than wait in traffic, so one day near Metuchen I got off 287 and wandered around. I looked for food, but discovered I was in an international zone and not one I was familiar with. I stopped near Oak Tree Road and parked, to take a break. Little did I know I was parked outside Nirvana, which would become well known as a full-service massage parlor.

When I noticed guys going in and out of a locked glass unmarked door, I thought it was a casino or poker house. I love that stuff, since I get to go “real time” with my people skills, kill time, and maybe make a buck or two along the way. I went up and rang the bell and was let in by a guy and then saw for myself – 4 or 5 clearly “international” ladies in Victoria Secret’s outfits, waiting around. I recall at least one central Asian, one Korean or Chinese, one Russian or Polish, and one American brunette. The guy was very nice and welcoming. Wow.. I had never done this before, so commercial like ordering a sandwich. I’d known plenty of professionals in my time (no one in high end sales can succeed without buying a few favors for clients now and then), but had never shopped for one for myself.

I chose the safest bet for my tastes back then – the American brunette. Her name was “Casey”, as she said “you know, like Casey at the bat”. She was petite, bright-eyed and very smart friendly. I got a massage which became a body-on-body rub fest and then she let me know she would do A B or C for me for X Y and Z dollars, which as I recall was a bargain. I think I paid a hundred bucks for a full service experience with her riding me cowboy on the table. We showered together afterwards, still having fun. As I left I thought to myself I wished I had tried the Korean, since it was such a nice place and so easy and I had gone the safe route with Casey. Funny thing – they gave me a secret number as I left, but I didn’t pay attention to it. Later, when Nirvana was becoming famous, you needed a secret number to get it. Damn.

That Metuchen area experience gave me confidence to try other massage parlors, and try I did. I found one just down the road but the experience was not good. Sort of like a Taco Bell compared to my first experience with Casey being a steakhouse. Once near the Meadowlands I stopped into a Korean place and tasted the Asian massage experience. Wow. I became a regular of Korean massage parlors.

So here I am 14 years later laying face down, awaiting my attendant’s return. She is Korean, about 25 years old, and is wearing a sun dress with nothing else underneath. I know because I am tall, and when she was standing before me explaining the rules, I could see everything down the front of her dress. Her skin, her nipples, and her black wiry bush. I am very sure she saw my eyes looking down there. I am very sure that was her hope, at that time. Now she knows where my interests lie, and that I am not bashful about it.

She left me to undress, and I am now naked on the table. I put a towel over my butt, mostly to keep warm but also so that she would immediately remove it when she returned. I know she will, and if she doesn’t, I have more communicating to do. I need her to know I am comfortable with her managing me naked, as she already knows I am very comfortable seeing her body beneath her simple dress.

I am looking down the hole in the massage table, listening to the noises of the massage parlor. I rarely hear anything more than conversations among the staff, noises of walking and doors closing, or the slapping of hands on flesh as someone gets their bodywork. Only once, in a regular massage parlor, did I hear “sounds of sensuality” from the room next to mine. Once, in 14 years. I still remember it well, and it still gives me thrills. Little girl whimper sounds from a little Korean girl getting her button pushed by some lucky customer…. continue reading at this link erotic massage blog and then come back and continue below)

Continued from erotic massage blog:

It is amazing to me that while I am looking down at a carpeted floor beneath the massage table, I only see images in my imagination. I don’t see the carpet. I see the room as if from above. I see the hallway, as the sounds of her walking get louder. Will she come in, or pass by again? Each time she passes by, I wonder how long until she comes back to ME. And this supports one of my fantasy theories about my Korean massage parlor experiences. Hardly anyone besides me is banging these chicks. That’s right.. I believe that. I believe that she is only parting her nether lips for me, not the other customers. Allow me to explain why I feel that way.

First let me say I am only talking about these upscale Korean parlors I frequent. I do not make any claims for the brothels, nor the quickie shops that service 15 guys per hour. I’m talking about the 2 or 3 girl shops, all Korean, that are quiet and clean. This one, for example, sees 2 or maybe 3 customers every two hours. For a given working girl, that might mean 6 or 8 customers per day.

When I get a girl I want to go all the way with, I have already filtered out most of the “will do any customer” types. Those types don’t appeal to me, so I opt for massage only or hand release in those cases. But when I get a cutie like this one, I know in my heart that she can’t be doing 5 guys a day while staying so bright and smart friendly. I’ve known enough of them over the years.

When I am engaged in the acts that lead to full service, I am exploring. I do not go from “okay” to full-on sex. I go from coaxing to foreplay to committed body contact, along the way to the final “yes” that leads to the full act. Along that path, again I filter out the ones that are so easy any customer can have them. If it plays that easy, I am turned off enough to opt for hand release or maybe my playing with her body, instead of going full service. It’s just the way I roll, but it means again, when I am doing full service girls I am not generally doing the same ones every one else is doing.

I know people, and that leads me to another reason I believe what I believe. There is a quality about lying, and a quality about deception that is often (not always) perceptible. Some people say they can smell a liar. I don’t believe that, but I do believe that you will detect hints of deception. If you then set up a follow on opportunity for deception, you can find out how deceptive a person is being with you. If I slowly reach for her breast to feel her through her dress, I can tell by her response how open she is to my advance. If her reaction is a lie (she blocks, but only because she wants an agreement of money) I can “smell” that. If she doesn’t block, I watch for her reaction to my touch, and of course I have adjusted my tough accordingly to solicit her reaction. If she allowed me to brush my hand against her breast, will she allow my fingers to fondle her nipple, and if not, what is her reaction? Is it honest? And if she allows the brush, and the nipple fondling, what is she watching for to block next? Or is she opening up for more access? All of this provides clues… clues I need to determine just how easy she is for what sort of access, and how she really feels inside about providing that access.

And I believe that in most cases, my 20-26 year old Korean beauties that allow me inside are only doing so for a small handful of customers on a weekly basis.

Now go ahead and call me a fool, as that is your right, but keep it to yourself. I don’t want to hear it – it is my fantasy, and one I pay handsomely for every time I tip the lady for her favors. I have paid for whores to provide, and I have earned my way into girls that would never dream of working professionally, and I am comfortable in my read of the ladies I pay for sex in Korean massage parlors.

And now she returns to my room. Quietly, she opens the door and slips inside. I can only listen, but given the soft sounds, in my mind’s eye I can “see” the whole room quite well. She comes in, closes the door slowly behind her and tests the latch to make sure it is secure. She slips off her slippers, and pushes them against the wall. She turns to my table, and places her hand on the towel, over my behind. She walks around the end of the table, places her other hand onto my shoulder, and leans forward with her long jet-black hair falling sensually over my back. Her other hand slides the towel off my body, as she whispers “you don’t need this, honey” in my aroused ear. Now with two hands on my body, her hair sliding off my back, she begins to massage me and I begin to get hard. This is going to be good, and I am starting to relax, as I feel my blood flow from my head and chest out to my arms and into my gut. I give myself to her touch and the womb that is the massage table, and start to dream of how and when she will begin to touch me sensually.

Every massage is different, and every girl has her techniques. Once I am established in the presence of the right girl, with an understanding of what is welcomed and wanted, life is bliss. My worries and concerns of the day are history. I don’t even know I have a boss or a job, and I have no awareness of traffic or schedules. I have no pain, and don’t need my vision. I have no idea where my wallet and keys are, nor do I care. If the massage parlor allows her to do her job, and time permits a full experience, I’ll be feeling her erect nipples sliding down my back within the hour, and I will mentally count the wiry pubic hairs on her mound as she slides it along my leg, bringing her face up to my head from behind, to nibble on my ear lobe and let me know she is on her way to rocking my boat.

My only curiosity at this point is all about her as a woman. What does she like? What is her approach to having sex with me? Will she surrender, or assert control? Will she lay upon me, slide up alongside and then roll over and expect me to mount her? Or will she have me flip over, work me up, and then ride me to satisfy me? Will she want to encourage touching of her body? Will she enjoy it, or simply tolerate it? If I somehow communicate to her that I consider her snatch to be pristine and delicious looking, will she enable me to snack at the intersection of her delicious thighs, or will she merely permit a taste and then move the communications towards her preferred activities?

For me, it is that exploration that defines my massage parlor experience. Getting there is the work of being a massage parlor customer. But once I am there, the joy of massage is the joy of discovery of how she and I blend together, and what becomes of that combination.

Looking back at what I wrote, I have to admit that I am partial to 25 year old bodies because of the cleanliness and the freshness, but I do not limit myself to younger girls. Some of my most memorable Korean massage experiences have been with the over-40 massage ladies, when they are of the right personal character and bodily hygiene. I gave the best head of my life to a 45 year old Korean massage worker, and received the best head ever from one of similar age. It’s not about the age, but the person, how life has molded them, and how they have survived the trauma that is life in this world. And I suppose that goes for me as well. For I am very sure that a good percentage of the quality of a good full service massage is based on my own demeanor, and that a good deal of her response to my advances is based on her own assessment of my character and bodily conditions. At least for the girls I choose to lay down with.