Falling in love with a massage therapist

page views:1 Publication date:2022-09-28

I'm from northern China, born in the mid-80s. I'm not particularly tall, and my frame isn't large either. Some people say I'm petite, but I just laugh—I admit I'm petite, but with my looks, I would never dare to call myself petite. Fortunately, as a qualified artsy young woman, I have a bit of elegance, plus fair skin, which should cover up some of my flaws, right? Besides, I often play badminton and table tennis, so I have a well-proportioned figure. My most confident parts are my buttocks and legs; proportionally, they're quite shapely and long. Getting back to the point, about six years ago, I fell in love with massage, and even became addicted. Every two weeks, I go to a familiar masseur for a two-hour massage to relieve physical and mental fatigue. Now I have two regular masseurs, a man and a woman. I usually have the man massage my feet and the woman massage my body. But every time I make an appointment, I can't help but think of Uncle Xiong. If Uncle Xiong were still here, I would really miss his thick, warm hands and his strong, weathered face. Uncle Xiong was a fantastic masseur; for a long time, I only went to him for massages. My first encounter with her was in the summer of 2014. One Saturday, I received a call from the owner of a massage parlor. She said that Aunt Dong, whom I always booked, had to cancel her appointment due to family matters, and asked if I could try someone else. Because I was really tired, I readily agreed, thinking that since I'd been a regular at this shop for so long and it was always packed with customers, the other massage therapists must be quite skilled. But when I arrived at the shop, I was dumbfounded—the person the owner recommended to replace Aunt Dong was a large, imposing man. He was tall, around forty years old, with a large face, large hands, large feet, and a slightly protruding belly, but not greasy. He had thick eyebrows, large eyes, and a broad back. He stood there, smiling憨憨地 at me. I had occasionally glimpsed him giving foot massages to customers before, but I never imagined I would have any interaction with him. The owner knew I usually only booked female massage therapists, so she noticed my hesitation and quickly added, "This is Master Xiong, his technique is excellent. He knows you like a strong touch, so having him is sure to be a good choice." "Oh," I replied cautiously, neither agreeing nor refusing. "Why don't you wait a bit? My wife's almost done, she can do it for you too," Master Xiong added, afraid I'd feel awkward—yes, he said "wife," and his voice carried a strong Northeastern accent. I remembered that vividly. "It's alright, I'll trouble you again later, Master Xiong!" Of course, I wouldn't be ungrateful; some non-essential issues don't need insistence. I used to only book female massage therapists simply because I was secretly a bit shy and embarrassed to ask for a male one. So this time, I was a little excited, firstly because I'd long wanted to try a male massage therapist's technique, and secondly because I'm attracted to older men, especially tall, chubby, and strong ones—they completely overwhelm me. Master Xiong gave a concise but firm "hmm" and led me to room number 2, which I usually used. Room number 2 was the innermost room, tucked away in a corner; it wasn't big, but it was private enough. When Aunt Dong was here, I would always strip naked for her oil massage. Although city regulations required a small window in the door, no one would pass through this room, so I was happy to be comfortable. "Then get ready, I'll come in later," Master Xiong said considerately, avoiding any awkwardness by telling me to get ready instead of taking off my clothes. Being a bit of a repressed person, I wasn't about to strip naked the moment we met, so I lay on the bed in my underwear and hastily covered myself with the sheet. About five minutes later, Master Xiong politely knocked on the door and entered the room. He first tucked me back in and then asked where he wanted me to focus. "Hmm, my back and waist, they're sore," I whispered. "Give me a good rub on my butt!" I couldn't bring myself to say that. "Okay." He gently pulled the sheet down to my waist, and then I heard him rubbing his hands together. Immediately, a pair of large, warm hands covered my back. "So comfortable!" was my only thought at that moment. Master Xiong's technique was quite skilled; he could always find my sore spots instantly, then press down firmly with his thumb, a tingling, numb sensation that felt incredibly satisfying. "Is this pressure okay?" "Mmm." "Your back is very sore." He then used his large thumb to gently massage the two erector spinae muscles along my spine. "Mmm." I could only manage a soft "Mmm" in comfort. Master Xiong was a genuine man; he continued to massage me vigorously with his thumb for ten minutes without stopping. I knew this was tiring and put a lot of pressure on my thumb, which could injure it in the long run. "Um, Master Xiong, please don't keep pressing with your thumb; it's too tiring and will hurt you." "It's alright, this is what I do; as long as you're comfortable, that's all that matters." It was indeed comfortable, but after my repeated insistence, he switched to using his elbow instead of his thumb for the massage. The moment his hairy elbow touched my body, I immediately shuddered, feeling like I'd been brushed with a small brush, and involuntarily let out a soft moan. "Did I hurt you?" "It's alright, I can handle it," I said, blushing. "Then I'll be gentler. Tell me if it hurts." Half an hour passed like this, neither too hot nor too cold. I felt lucky to have met a massage therapist like Master Xiong; if only it could also be a stroke of luck in love—I let my mind wander. "Would you like an oil massage?" Master Xiong asked tentatively. The main event was finally here. Anyone who enjoys massage knows that if dry pressure relaxes muscles, then an oil massage is pure enjoyment. "Yes!" This time I didn't say "uh-huh," not wanting him to think I was being too coy, and also afraid he was just asking casually. "Then should you take off your underwear—the owner said you always take it off when you come for an oil massage, and she specifically told me, so don't worry." He quickly added, afraid I'd feel embarrassed or misunderstand. And Master Xiong didn't say "underwear" but "breasts," which made me feel he was really considerate. "Hmm." A brief silence followed. "Then could you please help me take it off?" I mustered my courage but asked in a voice barely above a whisper, my face as red as the morning sun. But all I heard was the sound of him closing the door and leaving. I wondered if he had heard my last sentence. I breathed a sigh of relief, tinged with disappointment. I hoped he hadn't heard me. About two minutes later, Mr. Xiong knocked on the door again and came in. This time he didn't speak, but simply folded the sheet, covering only my bottom, and then skillfully applied oil to my skin. I vaguely remember his breathing becoming heavier. I wondered if his thick eyebrows and large eyes were reflecting my oily body under the dim light. I wondered if he had seen my private parts too—how embarrassing! However, shame couldn't stop me from enjoying the pleasure of Mr. Xiong's hot, large hands caressing me. I occasionally let out a soft moan in response to his kneading, and he tried even harder to make me feel comfortable. Suddenly, he gently patted my buttocks and asked somewhat uneasily, "Should I do a little something here too?" "Yes, thank you," I said shyly. "Hmm." He slowly lifted the sheet covering my round buttocks. I wanted to believe that at that moment, he was aroused. His large hands gently covered my slightly upturned buttocks, not rushing to knead them, just leaving them there for about five seconds, and then slowly began to push them towards my waist. It felt so good! I love this kind of ambiguous and slightly erotic massage. Although I knew nothing would actually happen, my wild imagination was already running wild, and I was already wet down there. Actually, Master Xiong's technique was similar to Aunt Dong's, which was probably the result of the boss's intensive training. But it was this very routine technique that made me feel good to every pore. I occasionally wiggled my buttocks and let out a soft moan. Master Xiong understood and moved his hands back to my buttocks, kneading them vigorously. I could imagine my buttocks being squeezed into different shapes by his large hands, but he very carefully avoided my sensitive areas, not even touching my inner thighs. As he finished, he carefully wiped the essential oil off my body with a hot towel. Although the towel was also warm, it was the warmth of Master Xiong's large hands that completely melted away my reserve and pride. When it was time to pay, the owner naturally asked how I felt, and I smiled and nodded. There weren't many words exchanged, but I left the same tip as I had for Aunt Dong. That night, I dreamt of Master Xiong. I dreamt of his wife standing beside him, and a little girl about my size. I couldn't see her face clearly, but I clearly heard her call Master Xiong "Daddy." A week later, I tried calling back to book a massage. The owner tactfully asked if I wanted to see Master Xiong again. I pretended to hesitate for a moment, then agreed.~Cheng~ I arrived at the appointment on time, filled with anticipation and trepidation. "You're here." The boss still wore that sincere smile that made it impossible to doubt that he was only after the money. Master Xiong, with the same憨憨 (simple and honest) expression, nodded at me, gestured for me to come in, and led me towards room number 2. Walking down the narrow corridor, I gazed at Master Xiong's back. He must have been twice my width, looking very solid and imposing. His back was slightly hunched, which fascinated me. I wondered, what kind of sorrow could a man with such a slightly hunched back bear? Yet, he still walked with firm, unwavering steps, as steady as a mountain, towards a future that, though not clearly visible, shone with more than a glimmer of hope. I longed to lean on his back and see if I could hear his strong, powerful heartbeat. Master Xiong opened the door and stepped aside to let me into the room. As I entered, I gave Mr. Xiong a thank-you look, then lowered my head demurely, my eyes quickly darting to his broad chest. Unlike most middle-aged, overweight men, his chest wasn't sagging; it was firm, with a few unruly chest hairs peeking out from his V-neck work clothes, teasing my visual senses. I secretly sniffed; there was no sweat odor, no body odor, no shampoo or shower gel fragrance, but a reassuring yet fantastical scent—I thought, this must be the scent of a man. "Then get ready," Mr. Xiong said, still not saying much, before closing the door. I quickly stripped naked and lay on the bed, my heart pounding with increasing nervousness. I anticipated his warm, large hands covering my body, slowly but powerfully roaming, and I longed for closer physical contact with him, or rather, for his body to touch me more deeply. Based on these fantasies, a warm current rose in my lower abdomen. Mr. Xiong finally knocked on the door and came in. I felt him hesitate for a moment, and then I realized that I had been so lost in my thoughts that I had forgotten to cover myself with the sheet. Master Xiong, quick-witted and agile, pulled the sheet over me, chuckled, and then asked what I was focusing on today. "My legs, oh, and my waist," I quickly replied, trying to cover my embarrassment. "I went to play ball this afternoon, my legs are a little sore." "Okay." Actually, I hadn't played ball at all that afternoon; I had just stayed in bed reading, listening to music, and fantasizing about intimate contact with Master Xiong. The reason I said this was because I'm a habitual liar—a white lie. I wouldn't fabricate unrealistic lies to hurt others. More often than not, my lies tend to offer an explanation or reason. The reason is simple: I don't want others to think I'm unreasonable. The massage remained calm and even, but being covered by Master Xiong's warm, large hands made me feel like crying. It was so incredibly comfortable, especially when he slowly massaged my calves up to my thighs, then used his fingers to support my buttocks and push down to my lower back, repeating the cycle repeatedly – it was quite a moving experience. During the massage, I occasionally felt a few drops of sweat trickle down, penetrating me. This second massage, again, didn't deliver the sensual sensations I'd hoped for, but the sense of satisfaction and disappointment was palpable. I couldn't help but daydream about whether one day he could do the same. ~Turn~ With the second time came the third, the fifth, the tenth. Gradually, I became familiar with Master Xiong. Although he wasn't very talkative, I learned he was Mongolian, but grew up in Northeast China. He told me to call him Uncle Xiong. My aunt, his wife, came from a wealthy family that had fallen on hard times. They came to America with their remaining savings, hoping their precious son would succeed. Her son was attending a public university, living on campus, and only came home occasionally. Every time Uncle Xiong talks about his son, his eyes are full of hope. He and his wife both work at the massage parlor for their son's sake. Although it's tiring, I know they're content. Uncle Xiong also said that if he had a daughter, she'd probably be about my age, so he started calling me "daughter." However, he's never asked my age. Although I look young, I know that Uncle Xiong and Auntie will never have a daughter born in the 80s. Whenever he calls me "daughter," I feel a kind of pleasure, a guilty pleasure, but at the same time, I don't want him to see me as a woman who can only be a daughter. Before, when Aunt Dong was here, I went every two weeks; after meeting Uncle Xiong, I went once a week. Getting massages regularly is really addictive, especially when the masseur is skilled and experienced. The boss, of course, welcomes it all—the more money, the better! However, two or three massage therapists looked at me differently. They knew I always stayed longer and gave bigger tips, and they seemed to be secretly jealous, as if saying, "Oh, the little slut is trying to seduce Old Xiong again. Looks like she won't give up until she gets him!" I would nod and give a friendly smile, as if to say, "Yeah! I've got him!" It was another lazy Saturday afternoon when I received a call from the massage parlor owner. Her voice sounded a little flustered. She explained that there was a problem with Uncle Xiong's appointment, so my evening appointment had to be rescheduled for after 9 PM. However, she assured me that although the shop closed at 9:30 PM, I could still have my usual two-hour session. Uncle Xiong was fine, since he was usually the one closing. Having worn a watch of cunning for over twenty years, I naturally pretended to hesitate for a moment. But since I didn't have to work the next day, the time didn't matter to me—as long as it was Uncle Xiong. After hanging up the phone, for the first time, I truly felt that something was going to happen tonight, and I was a little excited. Following online instructions, I shaved my already thin body hair clean, then filled a tub with bathwater, slowly lay down, and relaxed, calmed down. Enveloped in the warm water, I let my imagination run wild, a familiar and easy fantasy. I had a strong thought at that moment: if I were also enveloping Uncle Xiong, would he feel this same warm softness? I arrived at the massage parlor at 8:30 pm, but just sat quietly in the car, watching the customers come out one after another, their faces beaming with satisfaction. Finally, at nine o'clock, I walked into the shop, pretending to be calm. The proprietress still had a smile on her face, apologizing repeatedly. I tactfully paid first so she could settle her bill and leave. After paying, I turned around and realized that Uncle Xiong was already standing behind me. He scratched his head, looking apologetic. "Someone insisted on booking me today, so I squeezed in an hour. Sorry for taking up your time." Seeing that I didn't answer but just smiled at him, he seemed a little embarrassed. "Girl, wait a minute, the guest just left. I'll go tidy up the bed." He turned and walked inside. I didn't say anything and followed him inside. "Uncle Xiong, I'll go say hello to Auntie first, then I'll wait for you in room number 2," I said softly, emphasizing "wait for you." I don't know if he heard me. "Okay," he replied. I went straight to the staff break room and saw Auntie tidying up. Auntie was a hardworking and family-oriented woman. Although time had taken its toll, you could tell she had a good foundation; she must have been pampered as a child. I have great respect for women like her. Although her family had fallen on hard times, she possessed a refined air cultivated since childhood. Coupled with her kindness and hard work, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say she embodied the traditional virtues of the Chinese nation. Every time I see her, a phrase always comes to mind: "To become a great Buddha, one must first serve as a beast of burden." At the same time, I genuinely believe that Uncle Xiong and Auntie are a perfect match, the kind of couple who can share joys and sorrows. And I have absolutely no intention of interfering in their lives, so I've never asked Uncle Xiong for his personal contact information or address, and Uncle Xiong has tacitly refrained from asking for my phone number. He only knows that I live a ten-minute drive from their shop. If my fantasy were to become reality—I mean, if something were to happen between us—it could only happen in this shop. "You're here." "Yes, Auntie." "Have your uncle give you a good massage later, no rush, I'll have the manager take me home first." They all habitually call the owner "manager." "Oh." I initially thought Auntie would stay and wait for Uncle Xiong, but now it seems like heaven is on my side. "Then I'll head over first." After saying goodbye, I eagerly headed towards room number 2. It was the same familiar room, number 2, with its familiar dim lighting and the scent of essential oils, yet now it subtly teased me. I took off my clothes and, with an almost worshipful feeling, lay prone on the bed. I felt my body was the best offering, a sacrifice to my ephemeral fantasies. I deliberately left the sheet uncovered, lying there with my arms at my sides. These were the second longest five minutes of my life. Uncle Xiong finally came in. He tacitly left the sheet on me. He had long since stopped asking me where the important parts were; I think he knew that wherever he touched was the important part. He first rubbed his hands together to warm them before gently placing them on my back. Although it was only for a moment, I distinctly felt his large, warm hands tremble slightly. I gave a soft moan in response.His passion. Today, he only gave me a dry massage for about fifteen minutes before starting the oil massage. The oil was heated, and it felt incredibly comfortable and ticklish on my back. He gently spread the oil evenly on my back and slowly applied it all over my body—actions I take for granted felt exceptionally pleasant today. I usually apply oil to make clients more comfortable, especially during vigorous massages, to prevent chafing. But today, I felt that Uncle Xiong was treating me more like a work of art, slowly applying and caring for me. This time, he even applied a thin layer to my inner thighs, areas he usually wouldn't touch. By the time he finished, I was completely soaked. "Old Xiong, I'll take your wife home first. Everyone else has left. I'll lock the front door for you, and you can use the back door later." The boss's voice came from outside the door at an inopportune moment. It wasn't loud, but I heard it clearly. "Okay." Uncle Xiong's reply was always so simple and straightforward, but his large hands didn't stop; instead, they rubbed even harder. Then, his hands slowly moved to my feet. I knew he was about to start massaging my soles. Usually, when he massages my feet, I relax until I fall asleep, but this time, I was wide awake. I didn't want to miss any of his comfort. After about ten minutes of massage, which was about the time I usually fall asleep, Uncle Xiong finally made his move. He first slowly spread my legs a little wider, then held my right foot with one hand and slowly lifted my calf with the other. Then he knelt on the bed, bending my calf at a ninety-degree angle and placing it against his stomach, my toes just touching his chest. I could feel his strong, powerful heartbeat against his firm chest. I continued to pretend to be asleep, anticipating his next move. His breathing became noticeably heavier, but his hands didn't stop, still pressing the acupoints on my calf. I thought he was now in a kneeling position, holding my calf in his arms. Suddenly, I felt him gently kiss my sole, then put my toes in his mouth, gently sucking on them, occasionally brushing his tongue between my toes. I tried hard not to moan. Then I felt him shift slightly, then pull my other leg into his arms, and begin to kiss and lick my feet in a crisscross motion. At the same time, I felt something hot and hard pressing against the space between my knees. I couldn't hold back any longer and let out a soft moan. "Comfortable?" he asked. So he knew I was pretending to be asleep all along. "Mmm." But I think my voice was so soft that only I could hear it. "Mmm, I know what you're thinking." He sighed, speaking slowly, as if he had made a great decision. After a brief silence, I heard Uncle Xiong get up, but I didn't know what he would do next. I nervously squeezed my legs together and secretly turned my head, only to see him standing not far from me, holding essential oil. At this moment, Uncle Xiong's face no longer had a simple, honest expression, but instead a very serious and solemn one, like a robust Vajra Bodhisattva. His pants were bulging high with male pride, quite a sight. *Snap!* He slapped my buttocks, the sound crisp and accompanied by a slight tremor in my flesh. He straddled me, but didn't press down. "Can you squeeze me a little? I won't go in." He looked down at me, speaking in a tone that was both pleading and commanding. I didn't answer, but slowly lifted my buttocks. Seeing my acquiescence, he moved forward, picked up a sheet from the side, rolled it up, and placed it under my lower abdomen. Then I heard him pull down his pants. I desperately wanted to see what his burning pride looked like, but I was too embarrassed to turn my head away, too embarrassed to let him see my current expression. I just lifted my buttocks, trying to feel his heat as much as possible. "I know you want it, but you're not ready yet. Don't worry, I won't go in, but I'll make you feel comfortable." My mind went blank, yet I clearly remembered hearing countless people talk about men's lies about "I won't go in." But I was willing to believe that if he said he wouldn't go in, he definitely wouldn't. And I, I preferred to go with the flow. Uncle Xiong poured every last drop of the still-warm essential oil onto my buttocks, tossed the bottle aside, and let the oil run rampant across my lower body, flowing in all directions. I felt the warm liquid flowing into my anus and the base of my thighs, and involuntarily twisted my hips, my waist tensing. Another "smack," and his bear-like paw landed on me, hot and incredibly pleasurable; I couldn't help but groan. "Relax," he commanded, and then his large hands began to knead wantonly. His thumbs occasionally brushed against my anus and the base of my thighs, making me tremble with pleasure. Then, he spread his large hands, making my buttocks clamp onto his burning, proud member. Although I had never touched a red-hot iron rod before, I believed that at that moment, a thick, red-hot iron rod was being held between my buttocks, thrusting back and forth. Listening to his increasingly heavy breathing, I felt an unprecedented satisfaction. After rubbing like this for more than ten minutes, Uncle Xiong leaned forward, supporting himself on the bed with his fists clenched, and then inserted his iron rod into the gap between my tightly clenched thighs. The iron rod, held by my lips, continued to rub slowly and intensely. As a literary young woman who loves to fantasize, I had once specifically studied what the Japanese call "pure thigh," supposedly a very profound technique that I had no chance to learn. But today, I believed that what Uncle Xiong was letting me experience was "pure thigh." Thinking of this, I couldn't help but clench my thighs tighter, hoping that we could both have a deeper experience. I took the opportunity to grab Uncle Xiong's thick forearm, stroking the hair on his arm, and involuntarily moaning. Hearing my moans, Uncle Xiong seemed encouraged, rubbing faster and faster. Suddenly, I felt a tingling sensation on my scalp, followed by a burst of clear water that splashed onto the iron rod, but couldn't extinguish the raging fire. "Feeling better now?" Uncle Xiong breathed a sigh of relief, slowly stopping his movements and straightening up. "Yes, feeling better." I didn't continue to be coy. "Uncle, what about you?" Uncle Xiong really didn't come in or come out, and I felt inexplicably sorry for him. "Hehe, it's good that you're comfortable. I still have your aunt to take care of later." He answered cheerfully. "You should lie down and rest for a bit, don't get up all at once." After saying that, a large hand supported my waist, pulling out the sheet so I could lie more comfortably. Actually, I really wanted to get up immediately to see what kind of treasure had made me feel so comfortable. However, he had already pulled up his pants and started cleaning up the mess. After letting me rest for more than ten minutes, Uncle Xiong signaled that I could get up. I got dressed, took the glass of warm water he handed me, and drank it down in one gulp. "Wait for me for five minutes, I'll tidy up the bed." "Okay." I stared at this rather trustworthy man, my eyes filled with seductive allure. ~Together~ I don't remember how I said goodbye to Uncle Xiong, nor the specifics of driving home. All I could think about was Uncle Xiong's robust body, his strong arms, and the surging pride I had once clung to. Holding his arm, a sense of security filled my heart. I felt that even if the sky fell, he would shield me with his broad, sturdy back. And the thick hair extending from his belly to his waist seemed to possess a powerful suction, drawing my ample hips into his body, making us inseparable once we were together. But Uncle Xiong had his aunt after he went home, so what about me? Besides endless emptiness and loneliness, all I felt was his scent lingering on my body. I didn't shower; as soon as I got home, I stripped naked, jumped into bed, and pulled a pillow between my legs, trying to recapture the sensual feeling I had just experienced. In the end, I wasn't sure if his scent truly surrounded me, or if it was just my pathetic imagination, and I was mercilessly pulled into the vortex of sleep. I slept until the afternoon on Sunday, ate something quick, and drove to the massage parlor. I found a secluded spot in the parking lot and stared at the entrance, hoping to catch a glimpse of the person I was worried about when he came out for a smoke. I wanted to see clearly his憨憨 (simple-minded) but not stupid expression and the strong body that had so easily brought me to climax the night before. More than anything, I wanted to make sure he was still there, or rather, that I hadn't gotten him into any trouble after last night—at that moment, I felt like a criminal returning to a crime scene, desperately trying to make sure I hadn't left any clues. But after waiting for over two hours, he still hadn't come out. Then I remembered that I'd never smelled cigarette smoke on his large hands. I could only leave dejectedly, feeling uneasy. The whole week was dull and uninteresting, but thankfully the weekend arrived as scheduled. I called, and unsurprisingly, the owner answered. Hearing her usual tone, my anxiety eased slightly. But the first thing she asked was if I wanted to schedule an appointment for nine o'clock. Heh, do you think I'm stupid? Do you think your sister has gotten a taste of sweetness? Your blatant probing won't make this scheming bitch give in! I didn't pretend to hesitate; instead, I told her firmly that doing two hours at nine was a bit late, and we should schedule it for the evening. Sure enough, Uncle Xiong was available in the evening, and I successfully got to base. Although the call was short, it was quite strange, and I believed...The interest was a bit high, but at least I knew Uncle Xiong was alright, though the boss might have some suspicions. When I saw Uncle Xiong again, I didn't read anything unusual on his face. He was still the same as always, simple and unassuming. He led me to room number 2, which felt both familiar and strange. After what happened last time, I felt that room number 2 had a different meaning for me; it had become a secluded paradise with our shared secrets. "Then get ready first, I'll come in later." Every time he escorted me into the room, it was the same routine opening line, but to me, it had a different meaning. "Get ready for what? Where are you coming in?" I asked back somewhat jokingly. He didn't say anything, just pretended not to hear, and turned to leave. Suddenly, I felt very wronged; I began to not understand this man anymore. In my script, his answer should have been simple and clear—"You, you," and then he would strip me naked and carry me to the bed. But it wasn't like that at all; it seemed that our relationship was still stuck at the indifference of our first meeting. I stood there, stunned. He returned shortly after, closing the door behind him. He looked surprised to see me standing there, still dressed. The moment our eyes met, I impulsively rushed over and hugged him. He hesitated for a moment, then let me hug him. One minute, two minutes—I wished time could stand still so I could smell his scent, that comforting scent—but everything eventually calmed down. Sensing my emotions had subsided, he gently patted my back and said slowly, "Sweetie, Uncle knows what you're thinking, but…" "But you've already given me everything you could," I said, looking up and smiling, giving him the answer—I finally regained the rationality I'd cast aside the moment I entered this room, smelled this scent, and saw this person. I remembered this was a real world, a world governed by law, a world where change doesn't depend on individual will. What I could want and what he could give were only within this room, and I had already received them, and he had already given them to me. Seeing the sincerity in my eyes, he didn't dwell on it further, giving me a simple, honest smile. I didn't hesitate; I stripped naked in front of him and lay down on the bed—he'd seen everything he wanted to see, touched everything he wanted to touch, and things were clear, so there was no need for pretense. Regaining my senses, all I wanted to do was enjoy the comfort of his warm, large hands—two hours of massage isn't cheap, you know. I fell asleep during the massage, again while Uncle Xiong was massaging my feet. But this time, I was truly asleep, sleeping soundly and relaxed. So, two hours passed by without me realizing it. When Uncle Xiong woke me, I found myself covered with a sheet; he must have been worried I'd get cold. Uncle Xiong was still the same considerate man. He always managed to touch me with small gestures. Before leaving, on a whim, I asked him, "Uncle Xiong, do you smoke?" He didn't answer directly but patted my head and smiled, "You came last Sunday too, didn't you?" Suddenly, the burly man before me seemed so unfathomable, so unapproachable. He proceeded cautiously and methodically, neither arrogant nor servile. He saw right through me, this self-righteous scheming woman. I still went for my weekly massages regularly because Uncle Xiong and I had finally found a balance: I would only have him massage me on Saturday evenings. He knew I was fascinated by his muscular physique, so before each massage, he would give me a big bear hug, indulging me in the feeling of security and masculinity. At the same time, I knew he enjoyed watching me wiggle my hips, letting the hot essential oil flow freely, then a slap with his paw would calm me down, making me obediently let him apply the oil all over my body. This was our little game, one we never tired of. However, even when I was soaking wet and he was already fully erect, we wouldn't cross the line—there were still many other customers in the shop in the evening, and we wouldn't risk putting each other in an awkward situation by having customers go to the wrong room. This time was a constraint for everyone. The subtle, ambiguous game of give and take captivated me, and I wished it could last forever. Time flies, summer turned to autumn, but before the autumn leaves could even fall to the ground, winter arrived. On a lazy, expectant Saturday in early 2015, I received another call from my boss. "Your Uncle Xiong asked me to ask you if the appointment could be changed to nine o'clock. He has something to do this afternoon, so he canceled all his other appointments. But he can come back to do it for you after he's done." My boss assured me confidently. "He asked you to ask me?" I asked noncommittally. "Yeah, see how much he favors you, he's canceling everyone else's appointments to do it for you." My boss said somewhat jokingly. "Oh, okay, since he said so." I replied expressionlessly, completely ignoring my boss's teasing. After hanging up, I couldn't hide my excitement, hugging the pillow I usually tucked under my body and spinning around three times. I looked at my watch, it was only 3:30. Hmm, my watch must be the slowest watch in the world. I patiently waited until 9:15 before leisurely arriving at the shop. The owner called once to urge me, and I just made up an excuse. I knew the later I arrived, the fewer customers there would be. After paying, the owner was in a hurry to leave. Uncle Xiong wasn't wearing his uniform today; perhaps he had just finished some errands and there were no other customers left, so he hadn't changed. He was wearing a large, black t-shirt, plain but unable to hide his strong, muscular physique. He wore casual shorts and flip-flops. Since their shop required all massage therapists to wear long pants, this was the first time I'd seen Uncle Xiong's thick calves and dense leg hair, and I was momentarily stunned. Although California isn't cold, wearing a t-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops in winter is usually something only strong, muscular young men do. "Uncle, aren't you cold?" I asked, knowing the answer already. "No, it's cold in Northeast China." "Oh. What did you do this afternoon?" I especially liked imitating his Northeastern accent. "Take some time to tidy up at home and recharge." I thought he was joking, but his expression was very serious. After entering the room, he casually closed the door and suddenly picked me up from behind—a princess carry—which caught me off guard. He brought his big face close, sniffed my hair deeply, and said, "Smells so good." I blushed and didn't say anything, but playfully punched his broad chest. He smiled sheepishly and put me down. "So, what's the matter that you specifically asked me to come at this time?" I went straight to the point. He tugged at his collar a little awkwardly and said, "Girl..." He didn't finish his sentence and called me by my name directly. "Uncle just wanted you to know that Uncle isn't a blockhead." "Yeah, I know—I know you know what I'm thinking." I stared into his eyes. "Your aunt went back to visit relatives earlier, she's going to spend the New Year in her hometown." He seemed to be trying to change the subject. "Yeah, you said that before, and she's been back for over a month now." I persisted. "I...""I'm going back too," he said slowly. I stared at his honest face, stunned, for a long time, but ultimately didn't say something as foolish as "When are you coming back?" He deliberately chose this time and place, wanting to tell me something, or perhaps to end something. "Have you bought your plane ticket?" I asked, trying to make conversation to hide my dejection. "Yes, the day after tomorrow," he said firmly. "What are you planning to do when you get back?" I hadn't expected it to be so sudden. "I've saved up some money over the years, I'm going to start a small business," he replied. "Your aunt and I don't speak English well, and staying here isn't very interesting. While we can still make a fuss, we'll go back and give him a piece of our minds." He added, "What about your son?""Let's graduate first." "Oh." I didn't know how to continue the conversation because I was already in tears. Uncle Xiong paused for a moment, then pulled me into his arms. "Luckily, I met you. You give me something to look forward to every week." He stroked my trembling back, then said gently, "Actually, I was supposed to go back with your aunt, but I couldn't bear to." Speechless, I could only continue to wet his warm chest with my tears. If today was the end, then I hoped my tears could remain in his heart. I think this is what they call growing affection over time. He wiped away my tears and said gently but firmly, "Well, Uncle wants to give you everything today!" "You finally want me?" "Yes, I think about you every day, especially after you leave. Uncle has to go back and do your aunt a few times, but my mind is full of you." This must be the most unpleasant yet most beautiful love confession I've ever heard in my life, so genuine. "I've been yours for a long time." I mustered my courage and said softly. Yes, from the moment Uncle Xiong's hot, large hands first touched my body, I was burned, branded. Hearing my words, he pulled me closer, his hardness pressing against my lower abdomen. I groaned, a surge of heat in my lower abdomen almost bringing me to my climax. I looked up, stroking his broad face, my eyes hazy with desire. He bent down slightly, lifting me up by my buttocks. I kissed his broad forehead, looking at his憨憨 (simple and honest) smile, and brought my lips to his. I clung tightly to his waist, his large hands kneading my buttocks. Our tongues intertwined, demanding and refusing to yield. We swallowed each other's saliva, as if it were the most delicious nectar in the world, not wanting to waste a single drop. He carried me slowly to the bedside and placed me on it. He looked down at me tenderly. In that instant, I saw that magnificent Vajra Bodhisattva again. I looked up at this Vajra Bodhisattva who was about to convert me, filled with awe. As the saying goes, "I will not become a Buddha until hell is empty." Finally, we could be completely honest with each other, and he finally stripped me naked with his own hands. I suddenly felt a little embarrassed because I never turned over during massages, only my back was massaged. So, this was the first time he had looked down at my bare breasts and flat stomach from the front. I pressed my legs together, curled my knees, and placed my feet on his hairy belly. The hair tickled my soles, and my heart felt even more itchy. He grabbed my feet with one hand, making me stretch my legs together against his chest, embracing my long calves, and then took my toes into his mouth again, gently sucking on them. At the same time, he moved forward slightly, his other hand applying essential oil slowly to my body, gently spreading it. Then he squeezed his already rock-hard penis between my wet legs, pressing it against my lower abdomen, throbbing. Scalding hot, yet comforting. I finally saw its true form. How could it be so big? I suddenly felt a pang of worry; I feared my petite frame couldn't bear its full weight. That thick, purple crown seemed to triumphantly proclaim its long and storied existence. At the top of the crown was a shimmering gem, as if formed from dew, only shining brightly when on the battlefield. A thick vein meandered down, finally disappearing into the dense bushes. With a sense of reverence, I slowly grasped it with both hands—it was so hot. Feeling its powerful pulse, I let out a long sigh, then pressed it firmly against my lower abdomen, wishing I could just embed myself into it. Perhaps encouraged, he wrapped his free hand around my thigh, pulling me closer to his chest, leaving no gap between us, then slowly massaged my lower abdomen and the base of my thighs, inadvertently pressing my lips together. I was so comfortable I lost myself in the moment, feeling as if I were in another world, my legs twitching involuntarily. Perhaps sensing my approaching climax, he roughly parted my legs, knelt down, and kissed me without warning. I was startled and instinctively tried to push him away. But his thick, curled tongue, once it touched me, began to swirl and grind. All I could do was weakly clutch his hair, moaning uncontrollably. Before reaching my peak, I vaguely remembered reading in a book that if a bear from Northeast China licked a person, half their face would be gone. But the tongue of this bear beneath me was so gentle and comforting, a few flicks and teases sending me to my climax. Uncle Bear's previously restless chest hair was now wet and obediently clung to his muscular chest. He wiped his mouth, looking at me mischievously. I knew what he wanted to ask. So I blurted out, "That feels so good!" He nodded in satisfaction, knowing full well what I meant, "Want more?" "Yes, I want more!" To hell with restraint, to hell with pride! I knew that if I didn't get my fill today, I'd never have another chance. He leaned down and gently kissed my forehead. I took the opportunity to hook my arms around his neck and waist, and said sweetly, "Hold me." "Mmm!" Then he lifted me up with his right hand and pulled me into his arms, whispering, "I'll take you somewhere." He turned and opened the door, carrying me toward the staff break room—of course, the shop was already empty. I clung to him, feeling his heat rising with every step he took, and greedily licked his earlobe. He seemed to enjoy this little trick, occasionally slapping my buttocks hard in response. The massage parlor owner was very considerate of his employees. The staff break room was furnished with large brown leather sofas. I wasn't sure if they were real leather, but they looked incredibly comfortable. Uncle Xiong pulled me down to sit, his hands gripping my waist, continuing to whisper sweet nothings in my ear. I carefully lowered my body, sticking my bottom up and wriggling shyly. "Ready?" he asked softly. I didn't speak, but bit my lip and nodded vigorously. "It's all yours!" he said firmly. I easily found its position by following the heat source, then held it and slowly pressed against it. It throbbed, as if eager to explore the secrets hidden in this deep abyss. I sank down, a piercing, burning fullness making my mind go blank, and my heart filled with a sense of fullness. I let out a soft moan, my voice trembling. "Does it hurt?" I nodded, then shook my head vigorously. "It's not all the way in yet," he grinned mischievously. I suddenly felt it playfully swell a few times, as if trying to expand this narrow space, squeeze to the deepest part, and pluck the sweetest nectar. “Once after you left, I did it with your aunt right here.” Hearing this, I felt a mix of emotions—happiness or jealousy, I didn’t know. So, in a fit of pique, I gritted my teeth and sank down hard. A tearing sensation made me cry out. He paused, perhaps surprised by my audacity, and gently patted my back, softly saying, “Relax, it’s all yours today.” I tried to adjust my breathing, swaying slightly from side to side, trying to find a more comfortable position. I slowly adapted to the hot, full sensation, which gradually transformed into a strange itch, and I became restless. Uncle Xiong noticed my change and, supporting my waist, moved down a little. With each inch he moved, I was penetrated deeper. Finally, he lay on the sofa, and my deepest flower was finally plucked. At that moment, I felt like Guanyin seated on a lotus throne, my jade hands forming mudras, chanting seductive music. I held his belly with one hand and his chest with the other, slowly lifting my hips to the highest point, then slowly sitting back down, repeating this process. Each time I reached the bottom, he groaned softly. Watching his blissful expression, I felt a great sense of accomplishment, and unconsciously increased my speed until the sound of water gushing out was incessant. He considerately supported my hips, making it easier for me to sit down and lift up. But I didn't want to save energy, because I knew I was a prisoner of desire at that moment, and I wanted to use all my strength to wear myself out of this prison of desire. Then, he brought me to the peak once again. I collapsed onto him, my arms tightly wrapped around him, my body still occupied by the burning fullness. He gently stroked my hair, while deliberately thrusting harder, reminding me that he wasn't quite done yet. I gave in again, whispering in his ear, "Fuck me." He seemed like a soldier finally given the order to charge; he sat up, growled, picked me up, and headed towards the initial battlefield—Room 2, the place where it all began and would end. Back in Room 2, he slowly placed me on the bed. The moment he withdrew, my heart felt empty, and my body involuntarily arched upwards, trying to hold onto that feeling of fullness. But he was ultimately not a man I could control—not even a part of him. "Lie down, squeeze me for a bit," he commanded. I felt a daze, as if I were back on the day of our first intimate encounter. I rolled over in the most seductive and alluring way possible, lying face down on the bed, my buttocks raised. He considerately placed a sheet under my lower abdomen, then took the essential oil and poured it all over my plump buttocks. I squeezed my legs together.She wiggled her hips, awaiting his favor. With a soft slap, his bear paw arrived as expected, a burning, pleasurable sensation. Then came the feeling of my inner thighs being filled; he had made me addicted to this feeling of being on the verge of annihilation, unable to extricate myself. He moved rhythmically, slowly but surely, each time grinding me until I gasped for breath. When I reached my climax for the third time, offering my nectar, he didn't stop like the first time. Instead, he pressed on relentlessly, breaking through my trembling tightness and penetrating deep inside. His thick, towering thighs, round, firm buttocks, and powerful body formed this tireless war machine. His sole purpose was to send the owner of this delicate body to heaven once more. He pulled out, thrust in all the way, pulled out again, thrust in all the way again, each time causing my petals to flip out and then be pushed back in, while simultaneously squeezing my buttocks into various shapes, branding them with burning handprints. Life was meaningless; that was my only feeling. I prayed, hoping to one day fly with him. Gradually, a beastly growl came from behind me, then the beast increased the frequency of its thrusts, making a slapping sound. I felt it swell, greedily draining me with unparalleled pride, until I gave up resistance and offered up my last precious nectar. He was indeed a seasoned warrior; once he had won, he immediately withdrew. Then, with a growl, he pressed his monstrous, already near-firearm, against my buttocks, grinding and churning, finally gushing out in a leap. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven streams. My back was also left with one, two, three, four, five, six, seven trails of lava flowing through it. When emptiness filled me, I cried. Why, at the peak of lust, had I prepared to bear everything for him, yet he could remain rational and withdraw? I couldn't understand. I don't understand men, especially not this calculating, cautious, and dignified man. But I do know I'm a woman worthy of his efforts and the frequent triumphs he's brought me to. I'm content. When we parted, he hugged me one last time. I knew it was the last time he'd hug me. I didn't cry; instead, I smiled. I was happy because I knew this wasn't a dream, but a precious life experience. I wouldn't presume to say it was unforgettable, but at least I couldn't forget it. Even better, tomorrow, I would return to that reserved, proud, and self-assured literary youth, carrying this precious life experience etched in my heart, and moving forward with strength. But as I opened the car door, ready to drive home, I heard his hurried footsteps. For a moment, I thought of the ending of a soap opera. I thought this dreamlike thing was happening to me—the male lead giving up everything for the female lead, rushing to hug her, keeping her, and then living happily ever after. But as I turned around, my heart pounding but my expression remaining calm, he stopped a meter away. He still had that憨憨笑 (simple-minded smile), scratched his head, and said apologetically, "Girl, well, you might have to find a different place for your massage. I know a good one." "Why?" I was a little shocked, but more curious. "I went back home," he said. "Hmm, just because you went back doesn't mean I can't come," I said noncommittally. "The shop's lease expires next month, and the rent is going up," he continued. "Hey Uncle Xiong, can you stop taking such long breaths? Just say what's on your mind!" I said, slightly annoyed, mimicking his accent. "I just took advantage of you, so I'm a little embarrassed to say it," he smiled sheepishly. "Can you stop trying to outsmart me? Besides, I was the one who begged you to do it to me!" I was really angry now, and I didn't care anymore. "Well, the owner doesn't want to do it all by herself, saying it's too tiring. So we decided not to renew the lease—she's already made her money back anyway." I was stunned, hardly believing my ears. "So, you're the boss too?" I asked, my eyes wide. "Half-boss, I'm a partner with your aunt and her," he explained. So, the woman I'd preconceived notion of being the "boss" was only in charge of appointments and payments; no wonder everyone except Uncle Xiong called her the manager. Uncle Xiong was afraid of losing me as a repeat customer, so he had the "boss" recommend him to me. Uncle Xiong had given intensive training to the massage therapists, which is why I thought his technique was similar to Aunt Dong's. Uncle Xiong knew the habits of all the repeat customers and had already learned my preferences through Aunt Dong, which is why he so easily led me to room number 2. Uncle Xiong turned off the lights and closed the shop every day because it was his duty as a boss, and he always did it himself. Uncle Xiong had prepared a staff break room out of consideration for his employees, which is why he could have taken care of my aunt there. Because Uncle Xiong was the boss, he wasn't worried about anyone daring to peek at me while he was giving me a massage, even if those people knew my filthy thoughts... and so on. Looking back on everything, I remained silent for a long time. I was utterly defeated—both psychologically and physically—and this man before me, I could never compare to him in my entire life. The petty cleverness of us so-called intellectuals can never surpass the great wisdom of the working people. They were forced by life, yet ultimately rose above it. I feel that Uncle Xiong made me more complete. So, thank you, Uncle Xiong. [The End]Wait, wait. Recalling the past, I remained silent for a long time. I was utterly defeated—both psychologically and physically—and this man before me, I could never compare to him in my entire life. The petty cleverness of us so-called intellectuals can never surpass the great wisdom of the working people. They were forced by life, yet ultimately rose above it. I feel that Uncle Xiong made me more complete. So, thank you, Uncle Xiong. [The End]Wait, wait. Recalling the past, I remained silent for a long time. I was utterly defeated—both psychologically and physically—and this man before me, I could never compare to him in my entire life. The petty cleverness of us so-called intellectuals can never surpass the great wisdom of the working people. They were forced by life, yet ultimately rose above it. I feel that Uncle Xiong made me more complete. So, thank you, Uncle Xiong. [The End]

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Falling in love with a massage therapist

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