|I have watched macho dancers in a gay bar and watched the same breed of macho dancers gyrating in a hotel room “bridal shower.” That was all “for experience.” Little did I know that today, I would choose to be massaged by a male attendant, a.k.a. masseur.
It all started when I went to my spa aching for my monthly Swedish thing. After a few minutes of waiting at the reception area, the man in charge would come back telling me the bad news: I would have to wait for 20 minutes because the female attendants were fully booked.
It must been borne out of my desperation, but I unintentionally uttered: how about your masseurs over there?
The receptionist smiled, why not ma’am? some of our female customers even prefer the masseurs because they want stronger pressure…
Really?, I told him. But my mind was running fast now thinking of the implications. Having a stranger touch my body would be new to me. But rather than debating on the con’s, I decided that this was definitely one of those things I’d do before I die.
Women would probably cringe at being serviced by a masseur if: a) they were virgins; b) they were prudes. But I knew that I was cosmopolitan and I was confident with my body. It is so Madam Auring….I mean, it is so J.Lo. The Hollywood stars have male trainers and they don’t care a bit. Besides, I wouldn’t waste my 20 minutes waiting for a masseuse when someone and something new awaited me..
The trick in a potentially awkward situation is to…just don’t think about it. Act naturally. I was probably disadvantaged because it was his job and handled a lot of other women’s bodies. Whereas I couldn’t afford to be a manang. I had to look the cosmopolitan chick part.
Was I aroused when the masseur was massaging me?
At some point,yes. That was when he unfastened my bra and kneaded the top of my butt! We also did these leg bends and extensions and I was literally getting tickled.
Did I think he was aroused?
No friggin’ idea. It’s his job anyway. But I know the female attendants do observe their customer’s bodies…how much more a male?
He made small talk, though. Asked me about where the husband is and where I worked. I thought that was a no-no, washed away the mystery. I wouldn’t even dare ask his name at the risk of looking like a matrona.
Would I do it again?
Maybe. It is after all something sensual.
Just a tip for the guys: I think it is something sexy to do to your girlfriend/partner. A man who knows how to give a good massage would earn for me big points in desirability. Unfortunately, there aren’t many men like that. I get the impression that they want to be served and not serve.