My First Asian Massage

The internet's made it all very easy. If you're looking for a happy ending massage, even in a place you're only fleetingly visiting, you can indulge yourself very quickly. Just take your smartphone out of your pocket, open an Incognito browser window (if you're worried about leaving a trace), run a couple of searches and you'll quickly find what you're looking for; the address of a local Asian massage shop, opening hours, reviews from punters on their experiences and whether it's 'legit', and even directions on how to get there. Really, the process is little different to ordering a pizza, even if the stigma means you have to be a little more circumspect about collecting your order.

It wasn't always this way. Rewind to the late 1990s, and there was a whole lot more mystery involved. You could find adult content online, but there wasn't much outside of images that took an age to download, and there were definitely no pointers as to what delights might be in your neighbourhood. In truth, there were just fewer massage shops too, whereas now seemingly every decent sized town has at least one, usually tucked down a side street and with a window that displays little to casual bypassers. The quality of the service you receive once you step inside can vary wildly, but you can at least be almost certain that there's more than a back rub on offer if you're willing to pay.

In my case I was also young and naive. I'd grown up in a small town, then moved to a large city to go to University. The next three years followed a pattern familiar to many who've taken the same path - more time spent partying than studying, intense late night conversations with housemates, losing my virginity in an underwhelming blur one drunken night to an equally inexperienced and inebriated partner. Following that last event I'd managed to go six months without a second bite at the (ahem) cherry, and frankly I wanted to make up for lost time. Young men in their early twenties aren't often known for their restraint when it comes to offers of sex.

Just down the road from our shared student house there was a Chinese business called Bamboo Therapy. The lower half of the window was taken up with a large picture of a woman lying down and covered with a towel, while a pair of hands worked on her shoulders. Above the poster you could see a shelf with a row of dusty jars filled with herbs and with labels that weren't legible, if indeed they were even written in English. I don't ever recall seeing anyone going in and out, and the picture obscured most of the counter too. It would be easy to believe that the shop didn't actually operate at all.

That didn't stop my flatmate Mike from speculating when we passed it one evening on the way to the pub:

"You'd think there'd be more interest in a place like that. I'd give it a go myself for a bit of fun if I wasn't so skint."

"What do you mean? You looking for something to help you sleep, or some pills to sort out your skin?"

"That's not where they make their money though is it? See that small massage sign in the corner of the window? That's what I'd want to try."

As he spoke, for the first time that I could ever remember, the shop door opened and out stepped a slim, pretty, long-haired Chinese woman who couldn't have been much older than us. The evening was warm so she didn't wear a jacket, just a short white medical coat. For a few seconds she fumbled with the lock, presumably shutting up for the night, then turned in our direction. As she walked past us she offered us a bright smile; we turned our heads to watch her disappearing form. Mike spoke again:

"See? She's gorgeous. I'd pay to be massaged by her."

"She is gorgeous, but you wouldn't get to touch her, unless you fancied getting chucked out by the owner."

"You would if you paid enough. You just need to wait til she's finished then ask for a happy ending."

"Bullshit! You've been reading too many lad mags."

"There's a guy my brother knows, he went to one as a dare on a stag do. They clubbed together to pay for him. He got a lot more than just a massage."

I let it drop and we walked on to the pub, but part of me couldn't stop thinking about the conversation over the next few days. I didn't know if Mike was right or if it was all macho bluster, but I was hardly going to ask him for more detail in case he got suspicious. What I did know was that unlike most of my group, I did have enough cash to see me through til the end of term. And the woman we'd seen really had been very attractive, probably out of my league in normal circumstances. And if it was all nonsense, well, I did a fair amount of sport, and a straightforward massage wouldn't be a bad thing...

*

I wasn't brave enough to visit the shop we'd passed; it was way too close to my own doorstep, and ran the risk of being recognised in what was a student-heavy area. With no mobile phone, it took a little research with a Yellow Pages to locate a similar place called San Ling, this one in another suburb I barely knew a couple of miles away. But the advert for the shop stated 'Massage' and they were open until late which I took to be a promising sign.

A few days later I set off in the early evening. Before I left I showered, keen to make a good impression, almost as if this were a date. After I'd been to a cashpoint and taken out a good chunk of my remaining balance, luckily a bus arrived almost immediately. As we rode I clutched my A-Z, looking out for the road name and number that I'd memorised.

Considering what I was hoping for, the area I arrived in was really quite respectable. For a brief moment I considered backing out, worried that this was all part of an elaborate windup on Mike's part, but he wasn't here to see his handiwork, and the thought of the woman we'd seen was still in my mind.

The building itself was pretty similar to the one I already knew. The picture was different, but again it was difficult to see inside as it took up so much of the window. There were no herbs on display, but I could see a waving Fortune cat and some colourful small boxes. There was also no-one visible on the street. The door appeared to be locked, so I steeled myself and rang the bell.

Fairly quickly an Asian woman appeared, but she was very different to the one I'd previously admired. I'd guess she was in her fifties, was somewhat plump, and wore a loose top and leggings. She beckoned me inside, then locked the door behind me again. There were few preliminaries:

"You want massage?"

"Um, yeah. Please."

"How long? 30 minutes or one hour? Hour is only a little more, very relaxing."

"OK. One hour then."

"£25. Then I'll get someone for you."

I handed over my money, quietly relieved there was plenty more if the extra service I hoped for was forthcoming (it would cost more wouldn't it?) and that apparently this woman wasn't going to be delivering the massage. Maybe my expectations had been set too high, but I definitely had someone a little closer to my own age in mind. She put the cash into a drawer behind the counter, then beckoned me to follow her. We walked down a corridor and into a surprisingly large room.

"You undress here please. I'll send in someone for your treatment."

With that she was gone, so I took the opportunity to look around. The room had bright walls with pictures of landscapes and a single anatomy poster, and was well lit by a naked bulb that hung from the ceiling. A massage table stood in the middle, with a head cradle covered by a thin disposable sheet. In the corner there was a modern looking shower stall, next to it was a small sink and a selection of what I assumed to be massage oils, along with a device I didn't yet recognise. From a ghetto blaster some gentle pan pipe music was playing, and the whole place smelt of soap and perfume.

My host had asked me to undress, but I was unsure how far I should go - everything, or would they give me some of those paper underwear I'd seen in pictures? I needn't have worried, as I'd only removed my shoes, socks and top when the door was knocked and without waiting for a reply, in stepped a different Chinese woman. She was short, probably in her mid-thirties, slender, and very smiley; her mid-length hair was tied back which showed off a pretty, unlined face, and she wore all black - a stretchy vest top, knee length skirt and tights, almost as if she was off to work in a hairdressers. Her voice was soft, barely more than a whisper:

"Hi, what's your name?"

"Hi, I'm Daniel."

"Nice to meet you Daniel, I'm Lucy. Please take everything off and lie on the table."

She clearly wasn't going anywhere so I began to take off my trousers while she smirked at my obvious embarrassment. When I got to my underwear she turned her back and poured some massage oil into the device which I now realised would heat it. Taking advantage of the distraction, I quickly slipped off my boxer shorts and hopped onto my front on the table, placing my head in the hole so that my only view was now that of the floor.

For a few seconds I waited while nothing happened, then I felt a towel being placed over the lower half of my body. Next the patch of carpet I could see seemed to grow slightly darker, as if the light in the room had been dimmed. Then I could sense Lucy standing above my head, and she rearranged my arms so that they were no longer dangling over the table edge, but lying next to my sides. A small pair of hands began to gently knead my shoulders.

"How do you want your massage? Soft, medium or hard?"

"Um. Medium, I guess?"

Lucy didn't seem to be a big talker. Instead she simply set to work, grasping my shoulders, neck, back and hips, and starting to work at any knots she found there. I'd never had a massage of any kind, but I was surprised at how hard 'medium' actually turned out to be, and how much strength there obviously was in those slim arms. Based on my limited knowledge, it also felt as if she really did know what she was doing; within minutes I could feel myself feeling more flexible, even if there was a dull ache in the areas she'd touched so far.

"It's OK? Would you like the oil now?"

"Sure."

No, Lucy really wasn't a big talker. A few seconds after I'd agreed to her question, I felt a warm sensation in the middle of my back and then her hands went to work, spreading the hot oil over all the parts she'd just massaged. She then started over again, working the liquid across all of my back, shoulders and arms. At one point she used a technique which involved running her bunched hands repeatedly down the length of my spine, and as she reached the bottom I could feel her flat stomach gently rubbing against the top of my head as it lay in the cradle.

Doubts were starting to emerge though. If Lucy really was primarily here to turn favours for customers, surely she wouldn't be so skilled in massage? I was definitely enjoying what she was doing to my body, but began to suspect that Mike had been bluffing knowledge of a subject he knew nothing about. As Lucy moved back to my arms and hands, popping the knuckles in each finger in turn, I started to relax more, deciding simply to enjoy the experience for what it was. At least I would feel great when I set off for my planned run tomorrow morning.

Having been lulled into a tranquil, almost sleepy state, it was then a shock when, having finished on my upper body, Lucy promptly lifted the towel and draped it over the area she'd massaged so far. That meant my buttocks and legs were now fully on display, and I wriggled slightly to ensure that I wasn't inadvertently exposing myself; now that I was sure this was just a massage, that could have been very embarrassing.

If my masseuse had noticed anything, she didn't remark on it. Now I felt her thumbs working her way into a calf muscle, and gradually she worked her way up to my thigh, but stopping just short of my backside. Then she repeated the same with the other leg, pausing for a while to work at a knot she'd found just below the knee. When she'd finished I could feel more warm oil being applied, and she began to work both legs at once, while I once more began to relax.

The first hint that this was more than a normal massage came when she moved to the side of the table and bent my leg at the knee so that it stuck up into the air. As she worked some oil into my feet my toes were pressed against something soft that could only have been her breast. Briefly it hung there, then she gently placed my leg back on the table, moved to the other side, and repeated again; once more, I could feel my toes pressed against her chest.

What happened next confirmed to me that this could be what I'd hoped for. Lucy climbed onto the table by my feet, spreading my legs wide so that she could kneel between them. I felt more warmth on my backside, and then her hands were working both sides at once, kneading the oil deeply into my skin. This went on for some time, and gradually her hands began to pull my buttocks wider so that my asshole must have been visible to her. Then she changed the strokes so that her fingers were doing the work, but as they moved across my skin I could feel them running almost straight down the crack of my ass. It felt forbidden, no-one had done this to me before, and beneath my stomach my cock twitched.

Abruptly the massage stopped. For a few seconds there was no sound except for a slight creak from the table as Lucy shifted her weight, then her hands were on me again. But these weren't massage strokes; now her fingers and nails were very gently stroking the insides of my thighs. Almost immediately, Lucy spoke:

"You like this? It's OK?"

"Mmm."

That was all she needed. The gentle, almost ticklish touches continued, stroking the insides of my thighs, my buttocks, and running lightly over the tip of my anus which caused me to gasp, so she did it again. Now my cock was swelling rapidly, and I lifted my hips slightly to ease the weight on it, but also to push myself closer to her fingers. Lucy responded by lightly tickling my balls, then reaching under and gently wrapping a hand around my shaft. She released it again, but the touches around the rest of my sensitive areas continued. I pushed my ass higher again to give her better access, and she continued a little longer then giggled:

"Do you want special massage?"

"I thought I already had!"

"I can give you happy ending, or body to body."

"What's body to body?"

"I can take my clothes off and massage you with my body."

"Wow. I'd like that."

"Forty pounds."

I had enough. I'd have paid double that in the moment if I'd had enough money. As it was, she rubbed her fingers together indicating that she needed the cash upfront, so I quickly went to where'd I left my wallet. When Lucy saw there was still a little more in there she made another offer.

"You can have oral for another twenty."

"I've only got ten."

She made a face as if thinking for a moment, then agreed. I handed over the notes, she stashed them in a pocket, then placed a pillow over the cradle of the massage table, and asked me to lie on my back. Once I had I watched her as she quickly removed her clothes, showing off a slim figure in a matching set of black underwear with emerald trim. She grinned as I watched her take off her bra, revealing a set of small breasts with long brown nipples. Then her panties were pushed to the floor, underneath was a neatly trimmed triangle of dark pubic hair.

"OK, body to body" Lucy whispered, and reached for the oil once more. A small amount was squirted directly onto my chest, and then she stood beside me and began to rub the oil all over my front, taking care to use her fingers on my nipples. She smiled again.

"You can touch me now, Daniel."

While she continued the teasing touches around my chest, I reached out and began to stroke her backside, feeling its firmness under my palm. She leant back into my hand, and I pinched her buttock slightly.

"Naughty! Lie back again."

I did as she asked, and Lucy climbed between my legs, the table creaking again slightly as she did so. She wrapped her hand around my cock again, then bent forward and placed it between her breasts. Still holding me, she began to move her body backwards and forwards, pushing my hardening shaft against her.

"You like that baby?"

"Mmm. It feels amazing."

She continued to titfuck me, and I watched as my cock moved up and down just below her neck, pre-cum now leaking from the tip. She carried on a little longer then released me and slid her body over mine until a nipple was dangling just over my mouth.

"Would you like a taste?"

I took her into my mouth and sucked hard. A few seconds later she removed herself and offered me the other fleshy nipple which I also took hungrily. While I did I could feel her rough triangle moving over my cock, so I reached down and grasped her backside tightly with both hands. She sighed again:

"Mmm, body to body... Is your first time, yes? Feels good?"

Taking my moan as agreement she continued to rub her pussy over me, alternating the breasts I could suck and then breathing hotly against my neck. We were both covered in oil now, and her next words were whispered softly into my ear.

"Time for oral now."

I expected her to slide back down my body. Instead she moved only a little way, then swung herself around so that her pussy was just over my mouth. I'd never gone down on anyone before, and now I was being offered the chance by an older woman I'd met less than an hour before. Her faint aroma only aroused me more.

Do you remember the taste of your first cunt? As I began to probe inside her I could feel Lucy's juices on my tongue, and I wanted them all. I lifted my head to get closer to her pussy lips, my nose pressed against her taint while I explored. My hands reached up to steady her hips, all the better to bury myself in her soft cunt. I wanted to fuck her with my tongue, for this new sensation to last and last. If she made a sound I didn't hear it, focussing only on tasting the moist, sweet flesh that lay against my lower face.

Abruptly Lucy removed herself and climbed off the table. She flashed a smile, then moved so that she stood by my waist. Without a word she took a gentle hold of my erection, and never broke eye contact as she lowered her mouth to the tip of my cock. Her tongue slipped out from between her lips, and began very gently to lick around the head.

I thought the oral I'd received before now from girlfriends had been good, but this was something else. Lucy's tongue moved over my cock with the lightest of touches, hardening me further. I was dying for her to take me deeply into her mouth but she was in no rush, gently nibbling, licking and giggling as she watched my contorted face. My hands by my sides now, I lay back and tried not to squirm out of her reach as the delightful torture continued.

And then suddenly without warning her head dropped and now I was deep inside her warm, wet space, her lips tight around my shaft as her head moved steadily up and down. I let out a cry as she fucked me with her mouth, reaching all the way down to my body on the longer strokes. Her hand reached under and began to tease my balls again, and in no time I could feel an explosive climax building inside them.

Lucy must have sensed it as with an audible pop she released me from her mouth, a hand grabbing my cock and swiftly resuming the rhythm she'd used. That soft whispering voice spoke again:

"Yes baby, you can cum now. Cum for me Daniel."

My whole body shuddered as the first ejaculation shot out and covered my chest in warm spunk. Another quickly followed, then another. I don't know how many times I came, but by the time Lucy released me and patted my cock like an old friend, the whole of my front was spattered with the white liquid. She kissed my forehead and disappeared behind me.