SPA Technician's Log 1

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Published Date: 2013-08-12 Author: Part-time SPA Technician Popularity: 1318
A woman who has worked hard for five days needs to release her stress. Going to a SPA to release the fatigue and lethargy accumulated over the past week is a pleasant choice.
She was a woman in her mid-thirties. Although there were a few crow's feet at the corners of her eyes, her facial skin was still quite smooth. The skin below her neck, which had not been exposed to the sun for many years,
was full and very elastic. Especially her breasts, which were as full as ripe peaches. Below her slightly swollen abdomen, her black lace panties, because of their transparency
, fully revealed the alluring scenery of her private area to me. She was on the bed with her upper body up, her legs bent. She looked exactly like she was waiting for a man to enter her. When she spread her fair and slender legs flat on the bed in a V-shape, it immediately aroused my extreme excitement.
I felt my breathing become so rapid that my respiratory tract was almost spasming.
I could hear my own heartbeat, like boulders rolling through a deep mountain valley, like a giant drum being pounded desperately.
I felt like my forehead was about to be blasted open by gushing blood.
...
I could clearly feel my penis struggling to rise, and sweat rapidly accumulating on my forehead.
"Let's begin," the client said, lying on the bed.
I steadied myself, realizing 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, I'll start right away."
I began massaging her head. The moment my fingers touched her temples, she convulsed and let out a soft moan.
"Is it too heavy?" I asked anxiously.
"No, just right," the client said.
I found the right pressure and continued.
After finishing her head, I said, "Please turn over, I'll do your back first."
She obediently turned over and lay on the bed, her snow-white buttocks making my eyes sting, and I unconsciously swallowed several times.
Head, shoulders, back, buttocks, thighs, calves, feet—throughout, the client was almost drenched in sweat while groaning.
I said, "If it's too light, tell me; if it's too heavy, tell me too."
The client didn't answer, continuing to groan.
After finishing the back massage, I said, "Please turn over again, I'll do your front now."
She turned over, and I noticed her face had turned crimson, and there was a little sweat on the tip of her nose. Her breathing seemed uneven.
I thought to myself: Had I aroused some special sensation in her? Yu Hui said that as a massage therapist, you have to arouse these sensations;
only then will they continue to patronize the salon.
I worked on her chest. My large hands pushed against her pectoral muscles, while my fingertips pressed on her acupoints.
Perhaps the acupressure was particularly effective, because her whole body reacted in a peculiar way. Her legs, which had been lying flat on the bed, suddenly contracted and bent, and
even 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 it, and I wasn't sure if I was doing a good job.
My hands were on her breasts, tightly clenched, and my index finger and thumb pinched her nipples, gently twisting them. She let out a soft "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 just right, just right, 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 like that; it was a kind of pleasurable release. Just now, the client seemed to be in a state of blissful ecstasy, and
I hadn't even noticed it at first. I need to learn to pay closer attention to sounds in the future to do my job better.
My palms were on her breasts, my fingertips pressing on the acupoints at the base of her nipples. Her moans grew louder, and her cries of pleasure were infectious, making my blood
rush 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 drives women wild.
The training instructor had specifically instructed that acupressure work requires thorough service, like flirting with one's wife—no, like flirting with a lover—to make the client burn with desire
and unable to stop. That's what constitutes excellent work.
So I paid close attention to my work on her inner thighs, making sure to be as meticulous as possible with stroking, massaging, and kneading.
Amidst a deafening scream, I saw that her entire body was covered in a thin layer of sweat, and her black lace panties were soaked. She
had clearly lost her virginity. I knew it was time.

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