This was years back, maybe 15 years, that I first went to a massage parlour. This was the long gone A5 Sauna in Burnt Oak, north London (now a Portuguese cafe). For years I'd driven past it, wondering what it was like, and then, finally I took the plunge...
The entrance was typical of a rub'n'tug place. You enter in through a standard door. On the left is a glass screen, with some prices for massages. Paid the money (£10 I think), and allowed through a second door. A sofa some in the corridor, with a partition wall to the left, with some doors. A girl came to me. I don't remember her name, but she was French I think, late 20s maybe older, large boobs, nice if stern face, wearing a white massage outfit.
Into a room, which had a small shower in it. On the bed, and it's a normal massage. Finally I get the courage to ask if anything else is possible. The whole range is available! I'm nervous, this is my first time, I opt for a hand job. So, the price is agreed, and onto my back. She removes her massage gear, leaving her in her underwear.
Pump, pump, pump. Nope, he's not cooperating today. She's getting annoyed, I'm getting frustrated. I ask if I may touch her boobs, which she agrees to. Nervously, I ask if she could remove her bra. Fondling her, I get harder, but still no lift-off. Finally, she says enough. I take over, and finally erupt (or dribble if I remember). Quite unsatisfying, but it was my fault. Meanwhile she's complaining that I wore her arm out, and she needs it for others. Bra on, massage gear on, and I'm offered a shower. I refuse, and walk back to my car.
...and that was my first time, and it was years later before I tried again, and again, and again, and... well, it's a sort of hobby now!
