French Teacher Changes Occupation

Part 11 - WIN SOME, LOSE SOME

I once joked that a masseuse works a fifty-minute hour, but we often act as amateur psychiatrists with many of our clients. Sometimes, when a man lies on his back with a masseuse, he cannot stop talking. A masseuse may give advice or provide a client with someone who will listen to his concerns.

I masturbate most of my clients, sometimes I fellate them. Once the wall of sexual intimacy is breached, men will talk about anything.

Jimmy always talks about his wife.

"She was a sexual fireball when we were dating. I once fucked her on the hood of the car at a drive-in movie show while the crowd looked on and applauded. After our marriage and the two kids that arrived, she didn't want to have sex anymore."

Other than that painful complaint, the two of them got along reasonably well. The wife was a good mother and held down a decent job. Since the two children were still youngsters, I advised against a divorce. Separation can be devastating for the kids. If a continuation of the marriage were possible, I suggest he try to get through the next five years. If divorce became necessary, that would be better to separate as the children would be older.

I've had to deal with certifiable crazies. Not like the vomit guy, I heard about him on satellite radio. I never met that crazy, but I did have a guy who offered me a hundred-dollar bill if I would piss on him. Mr. Fang kicked that fucker right out the door, and he has not come back.

Max is a long-distance truck driver. He says he has one wife in Delaware and another in Santa Rosa, California. His only complaint is,

"On the long cross-country trips, I have no one to have sex with. I'm too fearful of fucking some road-stop skank that might infect me, and then I'd bring it home to one of my two wives."

I agreed with his concern and suggested he find clean Massage Parlors but limit his sexual interaction to masturbation. I also advised him to keep his mouth shut, about having two wives, I told him,

"Don't be a braggart. You never know when a friend's wife might spill the beans."

I don't know Lincoln's real name, but he has a beard and looks like Honest Abe. He's about thirty-five years old and is confused about his gender role. He says he thinks he is gay. Lincoln has visited various bathhouses where he has participated in sex with multiple partners. He and his wife no longer have sex, although he suspects she has had numerous affairs throughout their marriage.

Since they have no children, I suggested he take stock of his reasons for continuing in marriage compared to the costs of dissolving it. I later saw his picture in the newspaper and learned he was a congressman. Indeed, we have openly gay politicians these days, but being labeled a 'queer' might impede his career in some congressional districts. He hasn't dropped in for a while; maybe he is working things out. I suggested he try 'Handsome Hanks Massage Parlor' on Osborn St. that caters to gay clients.

I have a client I call 'the Bear.' He is a big guy who loved having his cock played with by other partners. After a few sessions, he related that his wife was so enamored of the UPS delivery man that she was sending packages to herself so she might seduce the good-looking delivery guy.

The Bear said his diabetes had affected his ability to have carnal relations, so he didn't want to deprive his spouse of her fun.

I thought that was a mature attitude, and since they seemed to have a good marriage and no kids, what the fuck. This was the Bear's second marriage. He still had good relations with the children, now mature, who did not care for the second wife. He had shared the same story with them. I told him there was no need to discuss his wife's indiscretion with his children from a previous marriage.

I sometimes think of a client by the name of Oscar. He was nervous. He worked as a cook in the restaurant several blocks from here. He was single and had difficulties with relationships. He warmed up to me because I made him feel secure. I used to give him a hot-mouth blow job. In case you don't know, that is when the masseuse drinks a hot liquid, tea, coffee, or hot water to make her mouth very warm and then proceeds to blow the guy. Oscar loved that.

My impression was that Oscar was nervous and high-strung, but I didn't think he might do something stupid. He was always sweet to me. He usually came in with Rodrigo, a coworker of his. I would massage Oscar first and his friend would wait in the entrance, sitting in a rocking chair, reading a girly magazine, and smoking a cigar.

Oscar said when he worked in Nome, Alaska the employer he worked with was gay and always drinking hot coffee. Frequently his Boss would kneel and give him a hot-mouth blow job. Perhaps he had confusion about his acceptance of this treatment. "If I'd complained, I knew he would fire me and I needed the job. Getting a hot mouth off a woman is fine but from a man? That upset me."

I told Oscar, "Sometimes we do things or allow others to do things that later we may later regret. Just put it in the past and don't dwell on it."

A month later in the local newspaper that a cook, by the same name, had jumped into the icy river down where gay men were known to congregate. When Rodrigo came in alone a month or so later, I asked him how Oscar was, and Rodrigo got very sad and leaned close to tell me in a quiet voice that Oscar was the one who killed himself. I felt very badly, I needed to spend more time with Oscar, but such is the case with many troubled men. They need intensive care.

I had a client named Rupert Dingworth who has a very strange sense of humor. One day he just blurted out,

"Since I started coming to you, Francine, I've stopped fucking my mother."

I didn't know what to say. I was raised with the Bible, I knew this was a great sin. I said nothing, but Rupert continued,

"I had no problem fucking my mother, but the one thing I found that was really disgusting was when I fucked her, I discovered she had a load of cum in her from someone else. Doesn't a son have the right to a clean vagina? Why should I have to feel another man's seed clinging on my dick? How do I eliminate my rivals and make mommy mine?"

"I don't know Rupert."

He continued, "When I made my discomfort known, she promised to remedy the problem. How was I to know, her idea of a remedy was to offer up her bountiful ass for a bareback fucking? How did I discover her betrayal? As you might expect, when I rolled her over, I saw she'd been pre-lubed with another man's cum load."

"I don't know what to say."

But Rupert continued,

"Confronted with my displeasure, she responded, 'How can I say no, when other men need me so badly? How can I disappoint the many men who flock like birds to a feeder and leave their white spots upon my body?'"

"Is this true?"

"No, Francine, I'm just pulling your leg." Rupert reached out and grabbed my tit, "and your nipper!"

Rupert was a crazy jokester!

PART 12 - MR. FANG MAKES HIS MOVE

Most of our massage girls work part-time for one or two days and then go to school or work elsewhere. I had been working full-time for Mr. Fang for about three years. We had become very friendly, and he trusted me implicitly. He put me in charge of making all bank deposits, doing bookkeeping, taking care of the other workers' payroll envelopes, and he bought a computer tax program that I used last year to file his taxes for his various business interests.

Mr. Fang also gave me a thin book entitled 'Screw the Government-New Tax Strategies to make you Wealthy.' There is no question that Mr. Fang is very wealthy, but I've seen that the more money people have, the more they want.

Since those first days of training, Mr. Fang has never tried to have sex with me. I know he watches me from the closed secret security system, but he has made no advances. I assume he thinks it is incorrect to have intimacies with his employees, but I remember his beautiful cock when he broke me in. How perfectly it fit in my mouth. I'd enjoy another chance to please him and myself.

He surprised me the other day when he called me into his office. I thought he wanted to compliment me on my excellent work, and I also hoped he wanted to be intimate with me. Instead, he asked me to sit down in front of his desk because he wanted to talk to me. ` "Francine, do you realize in a few days, it will be three years you have been with me?"

"I want you to know, Mr. Fang, how grateful I am to you for giving me employment and teaching me my new occupation. As you know, I am a certified French teacher, but the closest I've gotten to the career I'd planned is a sloppy French kiss from a satisfied client."

Mr. Fang laughed.

"You have always had a good sense of humor and a fearless approach to try new sexual techniques. I appreciate the way you advise the other girls, and I think they have an easier time talking with a female colleague, than with me."

"In the twentieth century, Victorian prudery was an underlying part of the Western World's moral code. There are still those that believe that sex is unwholesome. Most Asian cultures view sex in a different light. How can I explain this? We consider every sex partner the same way we think of a restaurant, and we are encouraged to try new foods. Sex is no more than the 'tasting' of a new partner. It may be for a night, a week, a month, or of no lasting significance."

"We Asians, disagree with the western obsession, that once you have sex with another, a part of that person belongs to you. That is all silly nonsense, Francine. I admire the way you flit from one flower to another like a hummingbird, you find sustenance in every flower and give pleasure where it is needed."

"I have been thinking of returning to Thailand, where I have a wife and three children. You have probably noticed in your bookkeeping that payment goes to Bangkok every month."

"Yes, I noticed, but I never thought it was my place to question."

"I am quite fond of you, Francine, and would propose marriage, but as I have explained, if I were a bigamist, your position could be challenged. I'm proposing an arrangement with two arms. Number one, you will become my mistress, and we shall cohabit when I am here in Alaska. At the same time, you shall become my business partner. You will manage the three shops and take 25% of the profits, the other 75% you will deposit to my bank account from which I can withdraw whatever I desire. "

"Should I die, you are to deposit $2000 a month to my account in Bangkok for ten years. After ten years, even if I survive, you will become the business's sole owner and you are free to do as you like with no further demands made upon you by me or my estate. Knowing how much we earn monthly, I think you will agree this is a generous offer. If you agree, I will have all the particulars drawn up, and you will be listed as the co-owner on the city licenses."

"Do you have any questions?"

"Only one, should you survive and I hope you do, I am to continue depositing 75% of our income to your account for ten years. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Then I wholeheartedly agree to your most generous offer. I accept, as you stipulate, while wishing you good health and a very long life."

"Well, Francine, that was easy. Let's go out to dinner together, and please call me Toro, my first name. Since we are against a national holiday, why don't we make it for the weekend as Saturday is a holiday and we are closed on Sunday? We could stay at the Sheraton Juneau, the one they call the Four Points Hotel?"

Toro continued, "I have a cousin who works there who can set it all up. They have an American Restaurant there, a bit rustic, but decent food, or we can go to Songs Sushi Bar. Do you like Sushi? They have the freshest fish, giant snow crabs, and our giant bay scallops, a delicacy that does not exist elsewhere."

"Oh, Toro, that sounds wonderful."

"Let me call and have a reservation made for us. It's a real Japanese-style restaurant with wooden booths like they used to have in Japan."

Toro followed me to my apartment in his large black Mercedes. I parked my Chevie in the garage and put a few outfits into a small suitcase, including a sexy beaded dress I bought in Paris. Toro waited outside. I rushed back to him, put my things in the trunk that magically seemed to open.

We checked into the Four Point Hotel, and to my surprise, everyone seemed to know Mr. Fang. The desk clerk asked him if I was his wife, he responded,

"This lady is my business partner and my fiance."

A porter showed us to our room. It was on the top floor. We had a kingsized bed and a beautiful, peaceful view of the mountains. The room was large, and there was also a small chaise lounge, where one could sit and watch the television.

After putting my things in the bureau, I looked out the window and thought I saw a shooting star. Toro excused himself and left to use the bathroom.

When Toro exited, freshly shaven and smelling of cologne, he said,

"What would you like for dinner?"

"You said there was a high-quality Sushi restaurant? I'd enjoy that, but only if that was your preference."

"Oh yes, it's a first-class place. You might want to put on an extra sweater. It gets colder up at the top of the mountain."

We drove about ten minutes away, the traffic was very light, and we came to a steep incline. At the top of the hill was the Sushi Restaurant.

Once again, when we entered, it seemed everyone knew Toro. We were seated at a comfortable table with a lovely view.

"What would you like to start with?" Toro asked while perusing the menu.

"Being from France, I am used to a wide variety of tastes. If you order for me, I'm sure everything will be delicious."

Then the waiter brought us a bottle of special sake nested in a hot water bath, it was unstrained. When the bottle was shaken it looked like a snow globe.

"Some people drink Sake cold, but I am old school. I prefer it to be warm."

"I agree. I didn't know you spoke Japanese?"

"My father was born in a village outside Bangkok, Thailand, of a Chinese family that left during the revolution. My mother was Japanese, and she and my grandmother raised me. I was speaking Japanese at a very early age. After the war, many Japanese women were stranded in different parts of Asia and did not want to return to the devastation in Japan."

Toro ordered our dinner. We started with a bowl of Miso soup, a special soup made with fermented soy seasoning. Next, the waiter brought a large chilled bowl of giant bay scallops, with a scoop of rice at the center. The scallops were so fresh one could taste the sea.

Next came an order of Alaskan crab legs, so long and wide that one could hardly imagine the size of the actual creature was monstrous. This was followed by a plate of unique hand rolls with assorted caviars, both the orange salmon variety and the black Russian caviar were delicious. Then a dish of fried tempura-style shrimps with salt and hot red peppers that invited the cooling effect of the assorted mochi ice creams that followed, including one in cashew flavor, one in pistachio, and one in mango.

Then Toro took out a small blue box and handed it to me.

"Should open it?"

"Of course."

Inside was a beautiful diamond ring from Tiffany.

"Oh my God, how wonderful, thank you!"

"Go on, put it on your finger. It is to celebrate our new relationship and Saint Valentine's day is coming soon."

I hardly knew what to say as we smiled at each other.

"Well my dear Francine, time to go back to our room."

It was late at night, but strangely the midnight sun provided enough light to walk safely. That was one of the unique aspects of living in Alaska. There were times of the year you could wake up in the middle of the night to see the sun shining outside your window.

I held tightly to Toro's arm. The second serving of Saki left me feeling a little awkward. I let Toro help me when we left the restaurant. It looked like it was beginning to get dark, but the light was adequate. After we returned to the hotel, Toro used the bathroom. When he exited, he was wearing an untied robe. As he came closer, the robe opened, and I could see his enormous penis. It looked majestic, just as I'd remembered it.

I excused myself and went into the bathroom to freshen up and brush my teeth. I left my clothes folded on a chair. I put some perfume on my neck, shoulders in the area of my pussy, just in case a tongue wandered there.

When I returned to the bedroom, I saw Toro had several pieces of golden cord in his hand.

"You look so beautiful, and your breasts never sag. And your neck is exquisite." I turned so he could see my rear.

"And you hindquarters are perfect."

"With time my dearest, all will sag. Will you love me then?"

"Of course, I will always love you."

I sat down on the small couch. The room was silent, and I looked out the large window. Clouds were moving rapidly over the mountains.

"I recall you said so long ago that you liked to have sex while being tied up. Have you done that recently?"

"Non since my Saudi employer, the Master, and his brother, would tie me up and rape me."

"Oh, I'm sorry you were ill-treated, "c'est la vie." (that is life)

"But despite the horror when it first occurred, I was drugged and woke up in a pool of fresh virgin blood. It became a ritual every few weeks. Strangely I began to enjoy the confinement and even look forward to it. I realize now it was a sort of a 'Stockholm syndrome' that I found myself in. Rather than let the situation destroy me, I went along with it, learned to enjoy it, and I survived."

"Would you like to try it again"

"Oh yes, if you are my Master. I think I would enjoy it. Let's try."

I lay back and let Toro secure my hands and feet to the short round supports of the couch.

"Are you comfortable, my love?"

Toro had dropped the robe, and from the angle of his penis, I could see he was as excited as I was. He rubbed his large erection against my face. I licked the corona of his penis, and I opened my mouth so it might find its way inside.

Toro stood at the top of the low couch, and as I bent my head backward, the position allowed him to insert his cock deep into my throat. His pubic hair was not shaved but trimmed neatly, and at the deepest stroke, it provided a tickling, a contrast with the smooth skin and engorged veins of his penis that made the insertion so pleasurable.

He played there a while with soft thrusts that excited me. He continued this playful exercise until I felt his penis contract, and then there was the taste of precum, a floral exudate that coated my tongue. I could tell my pussy was very wet. While I sucked and tongued his giant tool, he reached forward and inserted his finger into my wetness as if taking my temperature. His cock, still in my mouth, swelled. I could feel the blood pulsing through his penis as it swelled to its maximum length and width.

He supported my head as he gently pulled out of my mouth and moved to the other end of the couch. He knelt and bent forward, his head approaching my midsection. His tongue entered deep in my vagina and then moved up, licking my clitoris.

"I never expect you to eat my pussy tonight."

"Why not Mon Cherie? Your clitoris tastes as fine as the primo bay scallops we dined on earlier." I guessed that was a great compliment from a connoisseur of Sushi.

He took his time, licking, sucking, and chewing. I could feel the bristols of his mustache from time to time, but the texture was a counterpoint to his soft tongue and thin lips.

Although I assumed Toro was in his mid-fifties, he had no odor of age; it was as if a young, exuberant lover was letting me audition for him. Being in my mid-twenties, I was a delicacy for him to devour, but he did so very slowly, savoring every morsel.