I give the lady a massage

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

One evening in July this year, I went to a roadside stall for dinner at the invitation of a friend. My friend and I are about the same age and we are usually very close, but we are both busy with our own work and rarely have time to get together. So, after we met, we ate, drank, and chatted, and before we knew it, it was around 10 pm. After dinner, my friend was still not satisfied and suggested going to a nearby karaoke bar. Actually, I was also feeling quite hot, and I wouldn't be able to sleep if I went back, so finding a place to have some fun seemed like a good idea. However, I had never been to a karaoke bar before. I had only heard from friends who had been there about how the hostesses were and how much fun they had there, etc. My impression was that although karaoke bars are places for singing and entertainment, most people who go there are not simply there to sing. Anyway, because I had never been, I had always been curious about it and wanted to find an opportunity to experience it. My friend's suggestion perfectly matched my long-held wish, so I readily agreed without hesitation. The karaoke bar was not far from where we ate; it was a three-story white building located at the intersection of a road and a small river. Because the road wasn't a main thoroughfare, there weren't many cars, making it quite quiet. However, many cars were already parked downstairs, filling the already small open space. Inside, the building was brightly lit, with the sounds of men's boisterous shouts and women's coquettish laughter rising and falling. "This place is nice, spacious and quiet, lots of beautiful women. But they're quite proper; you come here to sing and chat, nothing else," my friend said, clearly familiar with the place. We quickly got a relatively large private room. After the waiter brought tea, a few bottles of beer, and some melon seeds, he asked, "Sir, would you like some women to sing with you?" "Are there any more women?" my friend asked. "Yes, yes. There are more than a dozen. Would you like some prettier ones or some more generous ones?" the waiter hurriedly replied. My friend asked him to call the women over, and sure enough, a few minutes after the waiter left, a dozen young, beautiful, and fashionably dressed women rushed into the room and stood in front of us. My friend first chose a tall, long-haired woman, then gestured for me to choose. Faced with a group of strikingly beautiful, youthful, and alluring women, I was truly dazzled, hesitant, and my heart pounding. They were all incredibly pretty, and all had voluptuous figures; choosing one was a real challenge. But none of them were what interested me most, so my gaze didn't linger long on their faces or bodies, but immediately shifted to their feet. Most of them wore extremely sexy high-heeled sandals, barefoot, with only a few pairs clad in sheer flesh-colored or gray stockings. A dozen or so pairs of shapely feet were arranged on the ground, radiating youthful energy under the high heels. Some of these beautiful feet had fair and delicate skin, with neat and dainty shapes; others appeared slightly large with short, thick toes; some had long, slender toes with gaps between them; some had neatly arranged, straight toes forming a natural, soft curve from the big toe to the little toe; and some had slightly curved toes… Each small, adorable toe peeked out from the tip of the shoe, seemingly eager to greet me. In those brief few minutes, I felt my face flush and my heart race. Those beautiful feet, each with its own unique charm, seemed to be right next to my burning lips, and I longed to bite them and devour them. Because my gaze kept sweeping over the ladies' feet, I wondered if they noticed my thoughts; some of them began to secretly smile. After comparing several options, I finally chose a pair of feet that weren't wearing stockings, were fair and delicate, and were clad in red strappy high-heeled sandals with a well-proportioned shape. Looking up, I saw the owner wearing a sleeveless, tight-fitting top, carrying a cream-colored handbag, and a floral skirt. She was a well-proportioned, voluptuous woman with beautiful features and fair skin, and she was smiling at me. I immediately felt a connection and decided to keep her. The woman generously sat down next to me on the sofa, poured a beer for both of us, and then began flipping through a songbook to choose a song. The room was air-conditioned, and I could clearly feel her body temperature spreading rapidly throughout my body like a warm current. The faint fragrance emanating from her body wafted into my nostrils and permeated my lungs. Even before she started singing, I already felt ecstatic. My gaze never left the young lady's captivating feet. They rested on the floor about two or three feet away, probably a size 36, bound by narrow straps of sandals, mostly exposed. Her fair instep was smooth and flat, without a single prominent vein. Her toes were neatly aligned, perfectly straight, without any protruding joints, and her unpainted toenails were glossy and translucent. These were the bare feet I loved most, for without the covering of stockings, they displayed utter natural beauty; without nail polish, their pristine purity remained intact. For a long time, I've believed that a pair of naturally beautiful feet, unless confined by stockings and painted with nail polish due to the occasion or weather, would be superfluous to those who appreciate them. Today, faced with the allure of these small, sexy feet, I had already made my plans:Tonight was mine. The hostess picked out a few songs for me to sing along with, and my friend and his hostess picked out a whole bunch. Then we started taking turns singing, one line at a time. My mind was completely absorbed in the hostess's feet, and I had absolutely no interest in the listless songs, so I just absentmindedly went along with them. The hostess next to my friend seemed unusually lively, and my friend was belting out songs at the top of his lungs, refusing to put down the microphone. Taking advantage of the opportunity, I pulled the young woman to a sofa and said, "Let's rest for a while." During the break, I chatted with her, asking her name, age, home, family members, how long she had been in school, and what she did before coming to the karaoke bar. The young woman was touched by my questions and said, "I've met so many customers, and no one has ever asked about me or my family. They just ask me to sing and dance with them, and occasionally ask how old I am. Who cares about what I did before or about my family? You seem to be very thoughtful." During our conversation, I learned that her name was Jiaojiao, she was from the south, 22 years old, and had dropped out of school after junior high to work. She had been in Beijing for two years, working as a waitress in a restaurant, working more than ten hours a day from dawn till dusk for very low pay. She came to the karaoke bar as a waitress through a fellow villager's introduction. We started with this topic and talked about our understanding and feelings about the hardships of migrant workers. Jiaojiao was quite talkative, and her views on some issues were particularly insightful and profound. Before we knew it, we were chatting quite amiably, and the distance and awkwardness between us had disappeared. Later, while we were having a quick drink, I changed the subject: "You're quite pretty." She clearly loved hearing that, and immediately smiled, but didn't forget to be modest: "So-so." My gaze once again focused on her feet: "Your sandals are so pretty, and even your feet are so beautiful and sexy." I clearly noticed that Jiaojiao's face immediately flushed red, and my gaze immediately shifted to the sandals she was wearing. Then she said shyly, "Oh, these sandals only cost ten yuan, they're made of synthetic leather. They look nice, but the heels are too high, and they're tiring to wear all day." "Then quickly take off your shoes and put your feet on the sofa to relax." Jiaojiao was obviously willing to do so. She bent down and quickly took off her sandals, placed them neatly to the side, and then put her legs on the sofa, her small feet completely exposed to my eyes. Looking at those beautiful feet that I had longed for for so long, I could hardly contain my excitement. I boldly reached out and stroked one of her feet, praising how small and delicate they were. Jiaojiao seemed overjoyed and didn't resist, letting my hand slide over her feet. At this moment, I couldn't hold back any longer: "Wearing high heels must be tiring, let me massage your feet!" "Oh, how can I? How can I let you go through the trouble of massaging me? Besides, I didn't wash my feet when I came." Although she objected verbally, I could clearly sense that she was a little embarrassed and flattered, and not really against it. "It's okay, I've studied massage, and today I'll let you experience how good I am. Lie down and relax." Jiaojiao initially chuckled and declined, but then she curiously and obediently lay down on the sofa, completely entrusting her delicate little feet to me. What exquisite feet these are! When I place them on my palm, their length is exactly the same as the distance from the tip of my middle finger to the protruding part of my wrist bone. Despite the summer heat, there wasn't a trace of sweat. The shoes, made in Europe, America, Asia, Japan, and Korea, had no unpleasant odor. Holding them in my hands, I could fully feel the smoothness and delicacy of my skin. Beneath the soft skin, faint blue veins were visible. The soles were slightly red on three sides, and the skin lines on the arches were even finer. The arch wasn't very high, the big toe was long and rounded, and the skin on the other four toes appeared even more translucent and tender. The transition from the instep to the toes was natural and smooth, with no protrusions at any joint. Under the light, the entire foot resembled a piece of natural jade, a work of art meticulously crafted, inspiring both tenderness and longing. In the past, it was so noble and elegant, mysterious and unfamiliar hidden in women's shoes, yet desirable and alluring beneath their legs, glimpsed only in sheer stockings, sparking countless fantasies. Now, it was right before my eyes; I could feel its purity, smell its fragrance, and feel its allure. As I repeatedly pinched, pressed, and rubbed the key acupoints on Jiaojiao's soles, stretched and pulled each toe, pressed and plucked the tendons on her heels, and rhythmically rotated, bent, and pushed her entire foot around her ankle, Jiaojiao initially cried out in pain, giggling and occasionally pulling her legs back. But after a while, she became motionless, lying comfortably flat on her back, her eyes slightly closed, one arm draped over her forehead, humming softly. She was clearly deeply intoxicated by the comfort brought by my massage. At this time, my friend and the lady accompanying her had stopped singing and were whispering in the corner of the sofa. The room was very quiet. Miss Jiaojiao seemed to be asleep, letting my hands caress and squeeze her feet to her heart's content, her loose long hair hanging down below the sofa. By this time, I had been massaging her feet for half an hour, drenched in sweat. Seeing her blissful expression, I couldn't suppress my surging emotions. I half-closed my eyes, and my burning lips slowly lowered to her beautiful feet, gently taking a few toes into my mouth… “Ah!” Jiaojiao woke up with a start, about to sit up, but I stopped her. “Dirty!” She tried to pull her foot out of my mouth, but I held it firmly with my hand. She stopped resisting, lay back down, letting my tongue roam over her instep, sole, and toes, looking at me with half-open eyes, a sweet, shy smile on her lips… We played until 2 a.m. that day. Miss Jiaojiao kept saying, “So comfortable, you’re amazing,” praising my massage skills. Before leaving, she repeatedly said “thank you.”

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