After or while reading this blog, please don’t think I’m a pervert or a weirdo or strange. Ok, maybe I’ll accept the last two but not pervert. Read on.
Saturday morning found me in a salon, lying on a massage table getting pampered. Whenever I go for a massage, I think of all the embarrassing things that could happen to me and that’s why I am never too comfortable with being rubbed.
This morning, I made sure to drain my bladder so I won’t have the sudden urge to ‘go’ while on the table. As my masseuse kneaded my suddenly sensitive muscles, I thought, ‘What if I farted right now?’ With that thought, I made a conscious effort not to fart. Unfortunately, I couldn’t stop my hungry stomach from making complaining sounds. Then as I started giving in to the relaxing sounds, I thought, ‘What if I fell asleep and started snoring?’ I then made another conscious effort to stay awake.
The most troubling thought of all came later. ‘What. If. I. Got. A. Boner?’ Well gosh darn it! I tried to rein in that thought before it made a total escape but it was too late. There it was, ‘What if I get a hard on?’ Fortunately, I was lying on my stomach so I did not fear the embarrassment of such a display but that didn’t last forever.
“Turn over on your back, please.” Oh no! Now really, what if I do get a hard-on? Believe me readers, I am 100% honest, I had no thought of getting a rise, pardon the pun, out of my massage experience. I am happily married and was actually talked into getting a massage by my wife. As a matter of fact, my thoughts do no discriminate and I do get them regardless of the sex of the person giving the massage, so there. I am not a pervert, right? Now as I lay there on my back and feeling very vulnerable to the whims of my male organ, I went through a wide array of thoughts aimed at arresting any unwanted lower body developments. My thoughts still ended up taking off in the wrong directions.
Sexually stimulating images paraded through my mind like the red carpet. Come on, rise to the occasion. Do it, I dare you. Come out and play. NOOO!! I thought of my mom and my sister and of painful experiences. No use. I imagined that my masseuse was an old croon. Nope, that didn’t work either. She kept changing back to who she was. Finally, I had nothing left and just relaxed and gave in to the skillful manipulation of my masseuse.
My mind, sensing that I had thrown in the white flag and surrendered, backed off. I was able to enjoy the rest of my massage. No farts, no snores, no pissing urges and no boners, well maybe a hint of one but barely worth mentioning.
I can’t believe I just shared such intimate details with you. It means I really trust you and we are developing a close relationship. Keep coming back, I have more tantalizing stories.
- My Nudist Massage (homeclothesfree.wordpress.com)
- The Sadistic Voodoo Masseuse (tamerietherton.com)
- Stockton Massage Therapist Arrested For Alleged Sexual Battery (sacramento.cbslocal.com)