What made me go to a massage parlour for the first time when I had survived the first thirty or so years of my life without feeling the need? Quite simply I had not had sex for nearly three months and was feeling very horny. Of course, this had happened before, but this time I was in a relationship and had been enjoying an active sex life until my live in lover had been sent to Tokyo for three months by her employer to work for their Japanese division. No problem, pleased for her. I would miss her but three months is nothing, and some aspects of being single for a while appealed. I never even considered that doing without sex for a while would be a problem -- after all it's what your right hands for!
What changed things was that a week before she had 'phoned and dropped the bombshell that she had been offered a years contract with the Japanese division and planned to accept the offer. It would mean resigning her post at home, with no guarantee of being reemployed at the end of the year. All at once our future seemed to be in doubt. I had my own business to run, so there was no chance of me relocating. If the year went well, there was the likelihood that she would be offered another. If not and she returned she might end up in another part of the country.
I voiced my misgivings but she was dismissive, saying that if I had such an opportunity she would follow me. Of course, the difference was that I would be able to support her in a non wage earning role, whereas she couldn't do the same for me. And my business just wasn't portable, which she had always known. The 'phone call ended, not particularly happily, and my resentment at her behaviour grew over the week. I could easily imagine what she would have had to say if I decided to dump my business and piss of to the other side of the world for a year without her, with no discussion.
The following weekend I visited a friend, Rich, a couple of hours away from where I lived. He wanted me to meet his new girlfriend. The weekend went well, with plenty of good talk, food and drink. However, they were all over one another and both mornings I woke to sounds of grunts and groans and creaking bed springs in the next room, all of which added to my frustration.
Diane was a nice, good looking girl; she was friendly and not particularly shy. On the second morning she knocked on my door, and brought me in a hangover busting cup of coffee. She was wearing a short silk dressing gown and I just knew there was nothing under it. As Diane bent over to put the coffee on my bedside table I got an eyeful of cleavage and while she chatted away her magnificent thighs were no more than eighteen inches from my face. My hand was nursing my usual morning hardon under the blanket and a weeks worth of saved up spunk nearly erupted spontaneously as I thought of her no doubt still sloppy pussy, all matted pubes and puffy lips, so close to me. I was seized with a mad urge to throw the blanket back and beg her for a handjob, but resisted. It probably would have spoiled the weekend.
I determined there and then to get some sex on my way home. I had to pass a big city and surely I could find someone. I had no conscience about my decision to cheat on my girlfriend, she had just announced she was leaving for a year with almost no discussion, so did she expect me to turn into a monk? What would she get up to? Normally it would not have occurred to me to stray; I thought we were happy together, but in the last week had started to question that assumption.
As I drove back I considered checking out pubs, looking for singles bars etc, but all seemed a long shot in the time available. Also, I knew I was going to look desperate which wouldn't help. I called into a service area for a break, and seeing a tourist information booth had a brainwave. I asked to see the local yellow pages, looked up "massage", and there, to my surprise, it was. I made the call, which was answered by a sexy, husky voice. I asked if I needed an appointment, but was told,
"No, just come when you're ready."
The innuendo seemed to confirm that it was the right kind of place. I noted the address, bought a city map, and resumed my journey with new hope and a bulge in my trousers which was there on and off until I hit the city traffic.
When I turned into the street where the address given was located I was surprised to find that it was a residential area. There were few people around, just a couple walking their dog, and a guy washing his car. The parlour itself looked like it may have been a shop at one time. The windows were blacked out and carried a logo saying something about relaxation. There was no doubt I was in the right place.
Feeling suddenly as nervous as I had been horny a few minutes before I parked and waited until the dog walkers had passed, not really wanting to be seen going in to a massage parlour even though there was no one within fifty miles who knew me. Nothing I could do about the car washer, so I got out, locked the car and walked briskly the hundred yards or so to the door. I rang the bell, feeling very conspicuous while I waited but the door opened within a few seconds and a young woman let me in and greeted me politely.
"Hi, how are you today my love?"
"Er, good thanks."
I recognised her voice from my earlier 'phone call.
"Have you visited us before?"
"No, I haven't."
"Well, a half hour massage is £5. Your masseuse will be down in a moment, and if you are happy with her you pay at the desk here before she takes you upstairs. If you need anything else she will discuss it with you in the treatment room."
I was slightly dubious, but what the hell -- if it turned out to be a rip off I'd just chalk it up to experience. It wasn't like I made a habit of it. Just as I'd decided to go for it Charlie came in through the door. To be honest, my first reaction was slight disappointment. She was a good bit older than I had thought, and if I'm honest a fraction heavier. She was somewhere in her late thirties I thought and wore a short sexy dressing gown, loosely tied at the front to reveal stockinged legs and lacy white panties and bra. Her skin was rich, dark chocolate and I guessed she was Caribbean in origin, which was confirmed by her accent when she greeted me.
