SPA

page views:1 Publication date:2017-12-20

A woman exhausted after five days needs to release her tension. Coming to a massage parlor to release the fatigue and lethargy accumulated over the past week is a pleasant choice.
I felt my breathing was so rapid that my respiratory tract was almost spasming.
I could hear my own heartbeat, like a boulder rolling in a deep mountain valley, or a giant drum being pounded desperately.
I felt like my forehead was about to be blasted open by gushing blood.
...
If Yu Hui hadn't repeatedly warned me not to get any ideas about the female clients, I would have pounced on her like a tiger.
Thinking about it now, being a male masseur is really a blessing!
I could clearly feel my penis trying to stand up, and my forehead was rapidly accumulating sweat.
"Let's begin," the client said, lying on the bed.
I composed myself, realizing that I was there to work, not to enjoy some romance.
"New here, right?" the client asked.
I said, "How did you know?"
"I haven't seen you before," the client said. "Let's begin."
I said, "Okay, let's start right away."
I began massaging her head. The moment my fingers touched her temples, she convulsed and let out a soft moan.
"Was it too hard?" I asked anxiously.
"No, just right," she said.
I found the right pressure and continued.
After finishing her head, I said, "Please turn over, I'll do her back first."
She obediently turned over and lay on the bed, her snow-white buttocks making my eyes sting, and I involuntarily swallowed several times.
Head, shoulders, back, buttocks, thighs, calves, feet—throughout, she was almost completely soaked with sweat, moaning all the while.
I said, "If it's too light, tell me; if it's too heavy, tell me too."
She didn't answer, continuing to moan.
After finishing her back massage, I said, "Please turn over again, I'll do her front now."
She turned over, and I noticed her face was flushed, and there was a little sweat on the tip of her nose. Her breathing seemed uneven.
I wondered: Had I already aroused some special sensation in her? Yu Hui said that a massage therapist's job is to arouse these feelings in the clients; only then will they continue to patronize the acupressure clinic.
I worked on her chest. My large hands pushed against her pectoral muscles, while my fingertips pressed on her acupressure points.
Perhaps the acupressure was particularly effective, because her whole body reacted in a very special way. Her legs, which were originally lying flat on the bed, actually contracted and bent, and her legs crossed as if she were trying to clamp something tightly.
"Too hard?" I asked.
"No, not at all, just right," she said, her eyes slightly closed, panting.
"That's good," I said. It was my first time massaging a woman who was feeling this way, and I didn't know if I was doing a good job.
My hands were on her breasts, in a firm grip, and my index finger and thumb pinched her nipples and twisted them slightly. She let out a loud "Ah!" which was almost a scream.
I was startled, thinking I had done something terrible, and cold sweat broke out on my back.
"I'm sorry, I used a little too much force!" I quickly apologized.
She took a deep breath and murmured, "No, it's perfect, perfect, keep going, keep going!"
I was stunned for a moment, then it suddenly dawned on me.
Sometimes when I did foreplay with my wife, she would moan; it was a release of pleasure. Just now, the client seemed to be experiencing that same ecstatic release, but I hadn't noticed it at first. I needed to learn to carefully distinguish sounds in the future to do a better job.
My palms covered her breasts, my fingertips pressing on the acupoints at the base of her nipples. Her moans grew louder; the sounds of pleasure infected me, making my blood flow faster. I could clearly feel my face burning.
Amidst the client's moans, my acupressure moved to her inner thighs.
This is the place that makes women ecstatic.
Yu Hui had specifically instructed that acupressure work required thorough service, like flirting with one's wife—no, like flirting with a lover—to make the client burn with desire, unable to stop, to be considered a good job.
So I paid close attention to what I did around her inner thighs, stroking, massaging, and kneading as meticulously as possible.
Amidst a deafening scream, I saw she was covered in a thin layer of sweat, and her black lace panties were soaked; she had clearly lost herself. I knew it was time.

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