I am a massage parlor girl.

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.

Out of the news comes yet another story of a male massage therapist molesting his female clients.See “Massage Business Owner Accused of Assault“.

I get so tired of law enforcement investigating “all female staff” advertisements as if they were some sort of erotic proclamation. Can’t you figure out that it is a bad idea to let an uncastrated heterosexual male oil up his hands and slide them around on the naked body of  a female of his species?

“Asian Bodywork – All female Staff” is not an offensive statement, ladies. It’s essential.

I’ve decided to reward those who excel at marketing their massage parlors, in the various states. This wil keep me busy while you all tell me what I need to do to make you come.

Let’s start with California, since it is close to my heart, and the major markets. San Diego would probably be a Google search for “massage san diego” or “san diego massage parlors”. Obvious achiever in that case is

Business is slow, so I’ve decided to do some marketing. I would like to know what I have to do to make you come to my massage parlor. Please tell me in the comments, guys, if I want you to come, what do I need to do?

I will close comments in 4 days. Please reply now…

Okay so I’ve been depressed for a while now, but tonight it’s feeling very real. Everything is a dead end, and I know it in my heart. There is so much I can’t say, but even if I could, it wouldn’t matter.

Whatever you say, doesn’t matter. What matters is what is inside my head, and what is inside my head is killing me. Slowly.

I know about depression. And I live with it. And I am dying with it. You suck, world, and you know it which makes it all the uglier. When I die you live on. No matter how I go, when I am gone, you live on.

I will have had pain and ugliness, to the point of extinguishment. But you will have not had enough, nor will you care that I have been eliminated. So why does it matter to me? Why do you matter to me?

Because I am desperate, and all I can see in front of me is you. Since you don’t care, and you are all I have available to me, you suck.

And that is my depression.

As we approach Thanksgiving I get depressed, as always.

A New York City massage parlor where I used to work just doubled its size. They expanded into an adjacent suite, which was vacated by an advertising firm. They literally knocked down a wall, installed a new wall with doors and made “rooms”. They added a shower and it all took less than two days. They are now open, and bringing in more asian massage girls to service the customers.

I guess business is booming for massage parlors in New York, while advertising is not doing so well. I wonder if advertising executives are getting massages to help relieve the stress?

I’m looking for a gallery script I can put up here. Can any one suggest a good one? It has to be easy, but also it has to let me show the images as thumbnails that can be clicked. And I want a gallery that lets me put captions and story text with each image. I don’t want something that is Flash or all javascript.

What would be perfect for my massage parlor picture gallery? Thanks for helping!

Hi guys. As you have seen, I put my favorite massage parlor pictures into the random rotating masthead of this massage web site. Each page load shows a randomly selected image from my collection. Many are original images I captured myself, and images my friends in the business have given me to post. Some are artistitic compilatons I created from other images I found  on the web.

I think these images communicate my feelings and thoughts as my art – as a massage parlor girl I have rather unique perspectives on life. I appreciate when someone else seems to share that perspective. I hope you found them interesting. And if you found any of them touching, then we are kindred spirits and probably because you also spend time in massage parlors around the US.

So I am asking every one of my readers to send me their own massage parlor pictures, so I can make more masthead banners. I know you have cell phone pictures and other images from your massage parlor worlds. Why not share? If you want me to block faces or eyes just let me know and I will. I probably will anyway if the images represent real people worthy of respect. I am very sure I can make good use of any massage parlor or “working girl” images you send… they actually turn me on and I love working with them in Photoshop.

So far I have about 40 masthead images, and plenty of other images to work with. But the images in my collection are my memories and I would like to share some of your memories for a while. Why not send me some images? In fact, even send me ones you don’t want me to use. Just say so and I will not use them, but I’ll still look at them and enjoy sharing with you.

I have a few that I know are very powerful but which I haven’t used yet. I have some of bad guys with guns robbing a massage parlor where I worked. I have some of my friends after they were beat up by their so-called boyfriends, when they came to work because it was a safe place away from their problems. I have many of me and my customers sharing great times in kitchens of korean massage parlors in several cities, which I can use if I block faces and cover up a few things. Someday I hope to post an album but rest assured I will never violate the trust of my friends and customers.

So if you have some and want to share with me, send them to me at missyprovider on Yahoo mail (at Yahoo dhot com). Tell me the story that goes along if you want. I look forward to seeing your massage parlor world.

With the financial markets tumbling people are getting upset. Things are difficult, and getting worse. But here inside my massage parlor things are rosy (and moist, and warm, and inviting). Seriously. Did you ever consider how much of an escape your local erotic massage parlor really is?

It just takes one hour out of your miserable day. One hour… starting with the tingle of the door chime as you enter my massage parlor, and continuing with the scent of incense you pick up as you enter. The dry-air heater probably greets your senses in the reception area, but as I slip into the room I bring with me a draft of cooler, fresher air… air scented with the soft fragrances of femalia. You know the smell… it’s soft and slightly perfumy but not commercial. It’s my own scent, and it comes from me keeping very very clean down there, yet very, very open to “possibilities”.

I spend all day in that warm, comfortable environment so I don’t need to wear restricting clothes of many layers. My soft hairs are just millimeters away from the skin of your fingertips, when your hand is placed appropriately. And in my massage parlor, your hands can be placed appropriately honey.

Your hour is briefly interrupted as I leave you to undress. Don’t lose that time, honey — it is part of the package. Undress in the open — the door is closed. As you stand there naked, let him hang out and sniff the surrounds. Let him stay out as I return. There is no need to be bashful. Just be you, inside the room, and I will see how you are, and believe me, I will love it. And if I comment that you need to cover up, just laugh and do so. It’s a formality. We save some of the fun for later, but at least you got that “how big is this guy down there” thing out of the way. Also, the way I look at you while you are all exposed will tell you everything you need to know about how open I am to your suggestions today. Trust me… I’ll let you (and him) know what can be expected.

Now just to be clear, consider for a moment respect for me. If you hang him out casually like you would in a gym, towel in hand ready to cover up if necessary, what’s the crime? Any personal care practitioner offended by that probably shouldn’t be in the business. But if you wave him proudly about like a giant redwood showing off to tourists in Northern California, well, let’s just say that’s inappropriate behavior. A non-sensual massage therapist will be offended and disgusted, and while I personally might find it amusing, most sensual massage girls will find it off-putting. The idea here is to break the ice, not smash it into a million tiny pieces.

Also leave some money out so I know you’re needy. We’re not negotiating a peace treaty here, so don’t get nervous about the barter. What you need to leave behind to satisfy my financial needs won’t break your bank. Just put out what you know my services are worth. Did you drop $150 on a dinner for two last Friday, after $30 in drinks at the bar? Was it worth it?  Did I greet you in stained sweat pants and dirty sneakers, or was I wearing a $200 outfit devoid of any signs of the guys who tipped me before you arrived? That’s right honey, you should pay for what you’re going to get, and be generous. Last thing you want is a girl looking to deliver only exactly what you paid for. Trust me… help her forget about whether or not your worth her time by warming her pocket right up front.

We may have a brief communication about the value of my wonderful femalia to you, but it won’t be a deep conversation and honestly, we both know what it’s worth under the circumstances. My best advice to you is leave what you would love to enjoy, and allow me to fulfill your consumer desires.

After 45 minutes or so of my attention, you will have completely forgotten about the economy, the banks, and retirement funds, and the stupid elections. In fact, right around that 45 minute mark, when you are 45 minutes INSIDE my massage session, you should be thinking of just one thing: how might this be made to last forever?

And that’s just about the time you and I can switch those sensations from build-up mode to take-over mode. Together, by letting go, those feelings of yours start to drive the bus instead of coming along for a ride. They take over, and things begin to change down there. You know it, and I can feel it, and it’s all good, honey. All good. Fall back and stp tensing up and just ride it and trust me… I’m feeling it too. There is somehting about the elasticity.. the thickening… and the fluidity of it all that just melts everything together and brings out the best of you.

The actual release of tension is best as it is ust starting, if you can stay relaxed as it swirls throught the entire event. Some guys call it “streaming” or “pouring” or “letting go” and if I can I’ll stretch that out as long as possible. Every moment is part of the memory you will take home with you. And if you can’t relax as it takes over, which I understand, you get that pulsing tension which is best handled in the after thought. Once it stops, I know how to coax it to sleep with long slow movements, as a way to help you recover.

That hour you spend can be heaven, if you let it. Choose wisely… pick a parlor where you know the people are good hearted people and you should be fine. Unfortunately, the best people in this business have the hardest time advertising, since it’s really not possible to tell the world what awaits them inside the session. So consider the little ad, the lone phone number, or the low-profile place that hints at promise. Avoid the big loud flashy ads, and instead look for me, honey. The quality comfort girl behind the cell phone, with the quiet little place off to the side, in the better neighborhood, and not open too late. You’ll be glad you did.