Massage 6

Section 5: Enjoying Her First Home Service
Days passed by normally, sunrise and sunset, work and home—the rhythm of modern city life turned us into cogs in the machine of society.
Every day was the same, repetitive cycle, a life that was monotonous and dull, definitely needing a little excitement to make the most of our time on earth.
After my stiff neck cleared up, I hadn't had a massage in a long time.
I had her phone number and her husband's WeChat, but since they were strangers, I kept them very simple in my contacts.
I saved her phone number as "Massage" and her husband's WeChat as "Massage Husband."
Quite by chance, I was browsing her WeChat Moments when I saw her husband had updated a post about relationships.
It was about the seven-year itch, the absence of intimacy, and a hint of advocating sexual freedom and marital games.
I had a fleeting thought—were they also from the same village?
But then I thought, WeChat Moments is a mess, maybe he just forwarded it unintentionally.
Curiosity can be intriguing, so I scrolled through her husband's other WeChat posts and found quite a few similar ones.
Could they be a couple who enjoy playing sexual games?
But in this society, you can't just directly ask someone, "Are you playing sexual games?"
Even if you guess right, they might not pay attention; if you guess wrong, you might get a beating.
So, although I was very curious about her and him, reason told me to stay calm and act normally.
About a week passed.
I scrolled through her WeChat Moments again and saw her husband's post about getting a massage membership card.
My curiosity was piqued again, so I replied to the post.
Me: I want to get a membership card.
Her husband: Okay.
Me: It's just that your place is too far from where I live, otherwise I would come many times.
Her husband: We can do in-home massages, no extra fees.
I suddenly felt that they were really kind; they didn't overcharge for in-home services, I was very touched.
Me: Then, for in-home services, you should reimburse the travel expenses, right?
Her husband: It's okay. I drive a taxi. If a customer needs in-home service, I'll just drive there. After I get there, I'll continue driving, and after my wife finishes her massage, I'll pick her up. He
even has his wife come to his house for a massage! He's so carefree! What if she encounters some lecherous guy? But these are just my thoughts. I suddenly thought of a question I really wanted to ask him, but I was worried about having mutual friends on social media. So I clicked on her husband's profile picture and started a private chat with him.
Me: If I drink a little tonight and don't want to go home, and stay in a hotel, can you provide in-home service?
Her husband: Sure, but in that case, I need you to send me a picture of the front and back of your ID card.
Me: Why? I just want a massage, why do I need your ID?
Her husband: Society is a bit chaotic, I need to ensure my wife's safety. Knowing her better makes me feel more at ease.
Me: That's true, I was just kidding. If I really want a massage, I'll go to your place.
Her husband: Okay, welcome, welcome! We'll definitely provide excellent service. Just let us know what you need!
Her husband's last sentence, "Just say the word if you need anything," seemed to be an implication. I immediately slapped myself in the face. He works in the service industry; what were I thinking?
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Some time later, the company made a large investment in Huai'an, involving various social relationships, so the social engagements increased.
Several times I woke up not knowing how I ended up in a hotel.
I must have drunk too much the night before and been carried there by my colleagues. Alcohol, it really is a bad thing, but without it, you can't get many things done.
In China, many things are done over drinks: meeting clients for business, seeking advancement at work, flirting with girls in bars, engagements, weddings, even childbirth. There's drinking for celebrations and drinking for funerals; in short, alcohol is hard to give up.
One time, I drank too much again. When I woke up, it was already past 10:00 AM. I asked my supervisor for leave. My supervisor is a really good guy, about my age, and incredibly capable. If you drink too much with him while entertaining clients, he never complains about you taking the next morning off.
After getting leave, I lay in bed alone, opened WeChat, and saw her husband's post about getting a membership card. Thinking of that phrase, "Just say the word if you need anything," I suddenly felt a surge of heat, and my penis got erect. It would be so comfortable if someone gave me a massage right now.
I clicked on her husband's profile picture, checked his location, looked at his room key, and sent him my location via WeChat.
Me: "Brother, I'd like to request a home visit."
Her husband: "Received. I'm at Wanda Plaza now, I'll be back to pick her up right away, I guarantee I'll be there in 20 minutes."
Me: "Okay."
I closed WeChat, and I could hear my heart pounding wildly, thump, thump, thump.
I felt parched, so I got up, boiled some water, and went to the hotel bathroom to wash up and shower. I couldn't wait for a massage reeking of alcohol, so I even brushed my teeth, as if I were waiting for my lover, not a masseur.
After washing up, I put on a bathrobe, lay in bed, and waited for a knock on the door.
My mind wandered, and suddenly I really wanted to masturbate. I couldn't stand myself; I figured I was waiting anyway, so I might as well masturbate out of boredom—it wasn't illegal.
So I fantasized and masturbated, and time flew by. Just as I was about to ejaculate, there was a knock at the door, which startled me.
Me: "Just a moment, I'll get dressed, I'll be right back."
Looks like I won't have time to finish this time. I quickly composed myself, quietly went to the door, and opened it.
She was standing at the door, wearing a trench coat, her hair in a braid, and a mask. She was carrying two suitcases, which I guessed were massage tools, like essential oils, cupping sets, and gua sha boards.
I quickly took the things from her and welcomed her inside. I only saw her; I didn't see her husband. I admired his composure once again.
Me: "Just you alone?"
She took off her mask and hummed in agreement.
Me: "I feel a little bad that you came alone.
" Her: "No need to feel bad. My husband had a customer to pick up, so he couldn't come up. He asked you to take a picture of your ID and send it to him on WeChat."
I suddenly forgot about that, so I quickly took a picture of my ID and sent it to her husband.
A few minutes later, her husband replied: "Received. Enjoy your service."
Good heavens, am I hallucinating? I feel like I've fallen into some kind of trap. The more relaxed her husband was, the more nervous I became. I tightened my bathrobe and shivered.
After she came in, she took off her trench coat. The moment she did, I blurted out, "I only want a massage, nothing else!"
She laughed and said, "I only want a massage, don't even think about anything else." Suddenly we both laughed. Was it because she was a few years older than me that she could joke so freely? But after this little commotion, I did feel much better. I also had the perfect opportunity to look her over without restraint. It was just the two of us in the room, and we were in a hotel, so it wasn't illegal to look at her a few more times,
right? She took off her trench coat, revealing a casual outfit underneath: a tight-fitting shirt, a black midi skirt, and low heels—I think she was wearing S1WA, but the skirt's length obscured the heels. She seemed to notice me looking her up and down but didn't stop me. After several minutes, she gestured for me to move the blankets from the bed to the sofa and then had me lie face down on the edge of the bed so she could massage me. If I lay in the middle, she would have to take off her shoes and climb onto the bed to massage me—the scene must have been quite erotic, of course, that's just my imagination. Her technique was incredibly comfortable, unforgettable to this day. Every massage movement was perfectly timed, almost addictive. Initially, I hadn't taken off my bathrobe, and she massaged my back and kneaded it through the robe. After about 15 minutes, she had me roll over onto my back so I could face up and massage my arms, thighs, and stomach. I particularly enjoyed the stomach massage; I felt the front massage, arm and thigh massages could be skipped, just focusing on the stomach was enough. While massaging my stomach, she first pressed clockwise, then counter-clockwise, interspersed with her hands roaming over my abdomen. Because my nipples are quite close to my stomach, her hands would inadvertently brush against them when she was massaging my stomach. I'm different from most men; many men's erogenous zones are in the genital area, and they especially enjoy being pampered in that area. But my erogenous zones are in the upper body. Just a slight touch will make me sensitive and aroused. My nipples and the area behind my ears are my most sensitive spots. And her intentional or unintentional brushing was the most arousing thing for me. My muscles involuntarily tensed up, and she seemed to notice the change. She said, "Don't be nervous. Tense muscles aren't good for a massage. Relax." I said, "Okay, then please don't rub against my upper body anymore." She laughed and told me she didn't mean to. So I continued to enjoy her massaging my stomach, feeling the flesh on my stomach become particularly soft, and feeling her hands warm and sensual, or rather, sexy. As I massaged myself , I actually fell asleep comfortably.

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