Indulging in pleasure at a private spa (1)

(1)

During those most grief-stricken days, everything felt unreal.

It was as if I was sleepwalking all day, or wandering aimlessly in a maze, always ending up in dead ends,
unable to find my way out no matter what I did.

After handling my parents' funeral arrangements, looking at the two boxes placed side by side on the table, I suddenly felt breathless
. The thought of escaping surged in my mind, overwhelming everything in an instant.

When I boarded the plane, my mind was numb, and I felt like a walking corpse. When I regained some of my senses,
I realized that I had left Beijing and was sleeping in a bed in Shanghai. I even forgot to lift the bedspread. My phone was right next to me.
I wanted to call my husband, but I didn't know what to say. In the end, I sent him a text message saying that I had come to Shanghai,
would stay for a few days to change my mood, and would go back, and that he shouldn't worry. I don't

remember how long it was before my husband replied with a text message: I know.

By then, I had been sitting there all afternoon. I hadn't cooked, and I didn't want to eat. I got up, took out some wine from the refrigerator,
opened it, and drank it—a bottle of red wine and half a glass of dry white wine. I had a ridiculous thought at the time: that getting drunk would allow
me to escape this nightmare and return to the world where my parents were still alive.

But things didn't go as planned. Usually, when I drank too much, I would get drunk, dizzy, and drowsy. But that day,
after two bottles of alcohol, I felt increasingly sober. My body felt light, but my mind was sharper, and my memory
became clearer. This made me feel even worse. Suddenly, I felt incredibly frustrated, wanting to hurt myself, to cruelly abuse myself,
yet also wanting to cheer myself up and forget everything.

Coming back to my senses, I realized I was masturbating.

I masturbate whenever I'm stressed or in a bad mood.

I masturbate when I'm alone in the office, during work meetings, or during business negotiations.
I wear a tampon. Sitting in a chair, without using my hands, I cross my legs and gently move them,
squeezing and rubbing my genitals together to stimulate my clitoris. The movements are discreet and incredibly pleasurable. Especially
in front of everyone, speaking or answering questions with composure while masturbating with my legs, my thighs sometimes tightening, sometimes relaxing,
controlling the rise and fall of pleasure at will, sometimes indulging, sometimes restraining. That kind of shameful, public behavior
brought me unparalleled stimulation and satisfaction; any pressure or tension would vanish in
an instant.

But that time, the foolproof method failed.

The large house had been uninhabited for a long time, empty and desolate. As always, I squeezed my legs together, closed my eyes,
and breathed heavily, but it was all in vain. The flame of pleasure was too weak, and the weight in my heart was too heavy.

Just then, my phone rang. It was my husband's reply, "Okay," along with a text message informing me to choose a cemetery plot.

I deleted the text message listlessly, and as if possessed, I scrolled to the bottom of my contacts,
stared at it for a few seconds, and then called the spa.

The spa was in the apartment complex, in a semi-basement. Every time I come to Shanghai, I stay at that apartment, and I've
had a spa treatment there a few times in my spare time. I mainly look for massages, but I've also had foot massages with male masseuses. The male masseuses there claim
to be college students working part-time. I won't go into details. I'd talked to them before, and I knew it was a
quasi-sexual service establishment that skirted the line of legality, and I'd even experienced some of those services.

But that one time, I suddenly wanted to completely let go.

I needed to forget everything.

When I dialed the number, I thought I'd be excited, but I was actually quite calm; even my heartbeat didn't
change much. I calmly arranged a time.

The female customer service representative who answered asked when I was free to come over.

Without hesitation, I said, "Now then. "

Looking back now, maybe it was because I didn't dare hesitate.

So, I went there in the afternoon, before evening.

Before leaving, I touched up my makeup, applied lipstick, and wore sunglasses to hide my swollen eyes from crying. I had originally planned
to go in my loungewear, but after thinking about it, I changed back into my work attire: a linen-colored suit and nude
pink pointed-toe stilettos. Now I spend my days at home taking care of my husband and children, but back then, my work clothes
felt like a protective suit of armor, always giving me courage and peace.

When I entered the shop, I didn't see anyone I knew. The receptionist was a woman in her forties or fifties, a complete
stranger.

At that moment, I started to feel a little nervous.

I involuntarily asked in a low voice, "Where are the massage therapists with the two numbers I had before?"

Those two were part-time university students; they had classes today and weren't there.

I didn't really want to be served by strangers and was about to leave. The woman noticed and persuaded me to stay, saying there were other therapists available. She
told me to choose whichever I wanted.

She led me to another room, poured me a cup of hot water attentively, and then left.

After waiting a while, the door opened, and several boys walked in. Four or five? I forgot, because
I was extremely nervous at the time; after all, it was the first time I had ever actively sought out erotic services. They greeted me in unison; they
were all about the same height and looked to be in their early twenties. Wearing sunglasses and drinking water, I didn't really look closely and just
randomly pointed to the boy closest to me in the middle of the line.

Actually, I was completely bewildered by what was about to happen, and even started to regret my decision.

The woman gave the boy a key, and he led me upstairs.

Our neighborhood has four high-rise buildings. Two are for sale, and the other two are for
rent. The spa is in one of the rented buildings; the storefront is downstairs, but the service is upstairs.

We walked through the stairwell and into the elevator.

While waiting, I hesitated, wondering if I should turn back. I was starting to regret my decision. But
the boy next to me kept talking, which annoyed me, and in that moment of distraction, I unconsciously followed him into the elevator.

Standing in the elevator, I didn't look at the boy.

He, however, kept looking at me, trying to make conversation: "Sister, the service rooms are on the teens, quite high up, with a great view
, you can see the river."

He wasn't a local. His Mandarin was fairly standard, but it sounded a bit like he'd lived in
several different places, and his mannerisms had a slick, worldly air about them.

I ignored him, my head down, lost in thought, not even bothering to look at the floor, letting him lead me around.

I was already feeling lost, and then I felt even more lost. I didn't know why I was there, or
what would happen to me. Everything around me felt so familiar, yet so tiresome. I
just wanted peace and quiet, I wanted… to become someone else.

He saw I wasn't speaking, and gradually he fell silent too; the elevator was quiet.

But after a while, he spoke again: "Sister, what are you planning to do?"

I just wanted some peace and quiet, and didn't want to hear his nagging, so I don't know what happened, but a surge of anger
welled up , and I said in a rather harsh tone, "Do I have to teach you this?"

I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth, feeling I had hurt him, and tried to make amends by saying, "Just do the most expensive option
."

He didn't seem to mind, smiling and saying, "Okay, I guarantee you'll be satisfied." We

arrived at our floor.

We got out of the elevator, and he expertly led me to the door, opened it for me,
hung up my coat, and then led me into the bedroom.

The layout of that apartment was similar to my own.

I took off my sunglasses. The light streaming through the bedroom window wasn't very bright. The sky was overcast, looking gloomy.

The boy behind me said, "Sister, take off all your clothes, I'll help you relax."

His words were interesting; instead of telling me to take off my clothes, he said to take off all my restraints, which made me
feel a little more comfortable with him.

I kicked off my high heels, stood barefoot on the floor, and started to unbutton my shirt.

At that moment, the boy quickly stripped off all his clothes and hung them in the closet.

I noticed his muscles were quite well-defined. It wasn't obvious when he was dressed, but without them, he looked very
strong, with well-defined abs and a large bulge between his legs. Although he was about the same height as me in high heels, about
1.8 meters, and about 10 centimeters shorter than my husband, our penises were about the same size. Even without
an erection, they were still quite large, a very impressive endowment.

The boy's penis showed signs of arousal under my gaze. I felt my face burning, unsure
what to do with my hands, and unable to unbutton my shirt. Knowing the answer already

, I asked, "Why are you taking your clothes off?"

The boy smiled at me. I then noticed that he actually looked quite handsome when he smiled.

He explained that when customers undress, they have to undress first; when customers shower, they
shower with them—it's their shop's rule. This is to prevent anyone from taking advantage of customers and stealing their money.

I'd never heard of such a rule before; perhaps he was just trying to reassure me. But after
a few more words , the atmosphere gradually improved, and I felt more relaxed.

At this point, the boy walked up to me and started untying the belt and buttons of my shirt. I saw that his penis
was already erect, and it gently pressed against my pants. He moved very skillfully, quickly removing my
suit jacket and lace undershirt.

While undressing me, he said, "Sister, your skin is so nice, and your figure is great too. Looks like you
work out often."

Then he moved behind me and unhooked my bra, freeing my upper body.

After taking off my bra, he reached behind me and cupped my breasts, gently pushing them upwards and then weighing them,
as if assessing their weight.

His hands were slender, with long, delicate fingers that felt slightly cool to the touch.

I stood there, shirtless, wearing low-waisted suit pants, letting him caress me, and my mood surprisingly calmed.
I sighed and closed my eyes.

Then I felt my hair fall down; he had untied it.

He parted my hair and wrapped it in a towel.

He said softly, "Sister, your bra is too small. Look, this one in the back is all red from being so tight; it really hurts to see it
."

As he spoke, he brought his head close to my ear, his warm breath tickling it, then
moving downwards.

I shuddered.

His warm, soft tongue touched the back of my neck, sliding down my shoulders and neck until it touched
the shoulder strap of my bra, then licking down the strap.

The sudden touch made me feel my uterus twitch slightly.

My period was still more than a week away, and my desire was at its strongest, plus I had already made up my mind…
In an instant, I panicked and felt a sense of emptiness
and distress in my chest and lower body, desperately needing to be filled repeatedly.

Thinking this, I felt a warm flow secreting from the inner walls of my body, accumulating in the empty cavity.
I tightened my labia and the opening, sealing the warm flow inside, preventing it from leaking out.

I took a deep breath and whispered in the boy's ear, "You've made me wet."

The boy didn't speak, but reached around my waist from behind, unbuttoned my trousers, and then tried to pull them down
. But the trousers were too tight, and they wouldn't come down after a while.

So he crouched down behind me, grabbed my trouser leg, and pulled it down hard. Suddenly, my
two large buttocks and the gray thong tucked between my buttocks jumped out from above my pulled-down cropped pants. It
even seemed to bump into his face.

I heard the boy gasp in surprise.

A small sense of smugness welled up inside me, only to be quickly swallowed by a somber mood. As

soon as the pants were off my buttocks, they slid smoothly down to my feet. I ignored them, stepped out from under the pants
, and bent down to pull off my thong.

There was a small patch of dark gray in the middle of the thong, the mark of some escaping heat from my body.

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Indulging in pleasure at a private spa (1)

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