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Author Topic: The 8 hour Happy Ending  (Read 2860 times)

Offline Paolo dw

Having spent 5 years working on the Chinatown/Soho borders I became corrupted by, and somewhat of an expert in, the “Chinese” massage parlours surrounding my office. Once or twice a week I would hit the office at 8am, do a couple of hours work and then sneak out for an early morning tryst with my latest No. 1 girl or a lucky dip at one of the numerous other places on offer.
The downside of many of the ones I frequented was that there were no shower facilities so I would make my back to the office, often convinced that my hands smelled of pussy and my body smelt like a stale Chinese takeaway so I would lock myself in the toilets and try and wash myself with hand towel and the hand dryer.

Anyway, the reason for this background it that 10.30/11am appointments work well for me and there was always options around work, but having finished working in town now I have been trying to find new options in the North and West London suburbs.

So, last week I was making my way from North to West London and felt that I needed some action. I started off at around 10.30 in N3, calling ahead to NaturalWays and enquiring as to availability and was told that someone was available. I told them I would be there in 5 minutes and, having parked up and stuck £2 in a pay & display, I strode up to the shop only to find that the door was locked and there was no-one to be seen inside. Now one of the perils of the early morning massage is that often for the first hour or so the only person on duty is the massage girl so as soon as someone comes in they lock the door and that’s that. And that is clearly what had happened. After ringing several times and getting no response and catching a few knowing glances form the people working in the businesses either side, I shuffled back to the car, very pissed off,  and called SalaThai.
“Do you have anyone available in about 15 minutes?” I asked.
“You come at 11.30?” says the woman
“No, it needs to be around 11am”
“OK, we only have half hour available”
“With who?” I asked
“May”
“Fine, I’m on my way”

Off to Hendon I go, £2 more quid on the pay & display, saunter in to the shop and there’s this old, really unattractive woman at the counter. We confirm that I was the guy who called and I asked who is doing the massage and she says “May”. But then she locks the door and it dawns on me that “May” is actually “Me” with an oriental accent.
“I’ve parked my car on the road, is that OK?” I ask, knowing that it isn’t ok between 11 and 12.
“Oh no” she says and on that note I make my excuses and leave.
So £4 later with one frustrated cock I make my way to West Hendon on my way to Wembley and get caught at the lights at the T junction that joins West Hendon Broadway. And what do I see right in front of me? That familiar green sign with bollocks about “Herbal, Acupuncture, Healing” etc. Dr Lu or Wu or something . I call up and ask whether anyone is available now. BINGO! Park up (and it’s only about £1.20 this time). Have a good feeling about this one. Sleazy area, probably quite a lot of red light action around there as well which would increases my expectation that this could be a massage with someone who does want to go the whole hog of being a WG, but is pretty open to fingering and maybe even a BJ; it all points to a great find.

Walk in. And my heart sinks. The woman on the desk is hideous, and I mean absolutely fucking hideous. I think about bolting again, but reckon that she’s so hideous there’s no way she’ll be doing the massage.
Pay up (£25 for 30 mins) and she tells me to go to room 1. The room is freezing (another peril of the early morning massage) but I ain’t taking my pants off until I see the girl. I hear the creaking of floorboards upstairs and get hopeful that there is some hot rampant chic making her way downstairs. But then I hear the dreaded sound of the front door locking. And in she comes. My heart sinks, my cock tries to withdraw into my body and I wish I’d left my jeans on as well. Any my top and jacket!

She sticks some paper towel around the rim of my pants and gets to work. I’m freezing so she covers me with a towel and I say to myself just enjoy the massage and accept that today is not your day and, even she offers HE, BJ or anything else,  I’ll just pretend to be offended because that would leave with me no self-respect and lots of self-loathing. Everyone has to have standards right!
 
Anyway, she’s massaging away and the hands are going under the pants and, with my eyes shut and facing down anyway, the little man stirs into action. I start telling myself that if I keep my eyes shut I can imagine she’s quite hot and just not look at her before, during or after. So after that 180 I offer to take my pants off and she’s giving me the sweep around and I’m ready. She tells me to turn over and then goes over the legs reaching up, tenderly touching  all around the groin, ‘accidentally’ brushing the balls to reel me in. And then she says “time up” and leaves the room! I’m staggered.

Relief and disappointment wash over me as I realise it just isn’t to be but given the state of her maybe that’s a good thing. But the bollock sack is full and I spend the rest of the day thinking about the need to get unloaded.

So, 6.30 that night, drive back past SalaThai, got myself half hour and a decent HE with the least attractive (after "May"/"Me") bird there (Lisa). Still feel a bit unsatisfied though because today has just been a whole succession of unattractive women. The odds are that at least one would have been quite tasty and worth trying to suck the tits of and trying to stick fingers up, even if rejected.

And that’s the story of the 8 hour Happy Ending. Be it a lesson to all you early birds out there. Hoping for better luck this week.

Brilliant piece, there is a great book of punting stories ready to be published - is it "One hump or two" "The loin, the bitch and the [mirror on the] wardrobe" "Breakfast at Tiffany's then dinner at the Y" or "The lust weekend"?

Offline Paolo dw

This experience was "The OK, The Bad, the Ugly (and The Really Fucking Ugly)"

A Tale of Two Titties

Or, more usually, Bleak House...
« Last Edit: March 01, 2016, 04:03:12 PM by kropotkin »

Don't forget Orwell's Nineteen Eighty Whore  :hi:

Offline smiths

Having spent 5 years working on the Chinatown/Soho borders I became corrupted by, and somewhat of an expert in, the “Chinese” massage parlours surrounding my office. Once or twice a week I would hit the office at 8am, do a couple of hours work and then sneak out for an early morning tryst with my latest No. 1 girl or a lucky dip at one of the numerous other places on offer.
The downside of many of the ones I frequented was that there were no shower facilities so I would make my back to the office, often convinced that my hands smelled of pussy and my body smelt like a stale Chinese takeaway so I would lock myself in the toilets and try and wash myself with hand towel and the hand dryer.

Anyway, the reason for this background it that 10.30/11am appointments work well for me and there was always options around work, but having finished working in town now I have been trying to find new options in the North and West London suburbs.

So, last week I was making my way from North to West London and felt that I needed some action. I started off at around 10.30 in N3, calling ahead to NaturalWays and enquiring as to availability and was told that someone was available. I told them I would be there in 5 minutes and, having parked up and stuck £2 in a pay & display, I strode up to the shop only to find that the door was locked and there was no-one to be seen inside. Now one of the perils of the early morning massage is that often for the first hour or so the only person on duty is the massage girl so as soon as someone comes in they lock the door and that’s that. And that is clearly what had happened. After ringing several times and getting no response and catching a few knowing glances form the people working in the businesses either side, I shuffled back to the car, very pissed off,  and called SalaThai.
“Do you have anyone available in about 15 minutes?” I asked.
“You come at 11.30?” says the woman
“No, it needs to be around 11am”
“OK, we only have half hour available”
“With who?” I asked
“May”
“Fine, I’m on my way”

Off to Hendon I go, £2 more quid on the pay & display, saunter in to the shop and there’s this old, really unattractive woman at the counter. We confirm that I was the guy who called and I asked who is doing the massage and she says “May”. But then she locks the door and it dawns on me that “May” is actually “Me” with an oriental accent.
“I’ve parked my car on the road, is that OK?” I ask, knowing that it isn’t ok between 11 and 12.
“Oh no” she says and on that note I make my excuses and leave.
So £4 later with one frustrated cock I make my way to West Hendon on my way to Wembley and get caught at the lights at the T junction that joins West Hendon Broadway. And what do I see right in front of me? That familiar green sign with bollocks about “Herbal, Acupuncture, Healing” etc. Dr Lu or Wu or something . I call up and ask whether anyone is available now. BINGO! Park up (and it’s only about £1.20 this time). Have a good feeling about this one. Sleazy area, probably quite a lot of red light action around there as well which would increases my expectation that this could be a massage with someone who does want to go the whole hog of being a WG, but is pretty open to fingering and maybe even a BJ; it all points to a great find.

Walk in. And my heart sinks. The woman on the desk is hideous, and I mean absolutely fucking hideous. I think about bolting again, but reckon that she’s so hideous there’s no way she’ll be doing the massage.
Pay up (£25 for 30 mins) and she tells me to go to room 1. The room is freezing (another peril of the early morning massage) but I ain’t taking my pants off until I see the girl. I hear the creaking of floorboards upstairs and get hopeful that there is some hot rampant chic making her way downstairs. But then I hear the dreaded sound of the front door locking. And in she comes. My heart sinks, my cock tries to withdraw into my body and I wish I’d left my jeans on as well. Any my top and jacket!

She sticks some paper towel around the rim of my pants and gets to work. I’m freezing so she covers me with a towel and I say to myself just enjoy the massage and accept that today is not your day and, even she offers HE, BJ or anything else,  I’ll just pretend to be offended because that would leave with me no self-respect and lots of self-loathing. Everyone has to have standards right!
 
Anyway, she’s massaging away and the hands are going under the pants and, with my eyes shut and facing down anyway, the little man stirs into action. I start telling myself that if I keep my eyes shut I can imagine she’s quite hot and just not look at her before, during or after. So after that 180 I offer to take my pants off and she’s giving me the sweep around and I’m ready. She tells me to turn over and then goes over the legs reaching up, tenderly touching  all around the groin, ‘accidentally’ brushing the balls to reel me in. And then she says “time up” and leaves the room! I’m staggered.

Relief and disappointment wash over me as I realise it just isn’t to be but given the state of her maybe that’s a good thing. But the bollock sack is full and I spend the rest of the day thinking about the need to get unloaded.

So, 6.30 that night, drive back past SalaThai, got myself half hour and a decent HE with the least attractive (after "May"/"Me") bird there (Lisa). Still feel a bit unsatisfied though because today has just been a whole succession of unattractive women. The odds are that at least one would have been quite tasty and worth trying to suck the tits of and trying to stick fingers up, even if rejected.

And that’s the story of the 8 hour Happy Ending. Be it a lesson to all you early birds out there. Hoping for better luck this week.


Interesting read, that's why I stick with WGs who advertise clearly as WGs.

Offline vt

Big Trouble in Little China!  :D

Offline LL

A very interesting post thanks OP! I can relate to a lot of it, having worked in Soho for some years, and going for regular massages 1-2 times a week for at least 2 years. I've probably been to every parlour in Soho, Chinatown, many across the West End and a lot further out too. I sort of got bored of it and haven't done it for a while. Being nagged for extra cash, getting a poor massage and rushed handjob became more and more common. These days I typically don't get satisfaction from a happy ending (still do on rare occasions), so I try hard to resist the temptation to visit these places - the parlours I walk past every day. If I can I prefer to save my funds for proper punts.

Offline diddy

“Do you have anyone available in about 15 minutes?” I asked.
“You come at 11.30?” says the woman
“No, it needs to be around 11am”
“OK, we only have half hour available”
“With who?” I asked
“May”
“Fine, I’m on my way”

Off to Hendon I go, £2 more quid on the pay & display, saunter in to the shop and there’s this old, really unattractive woman at the counter. We confirm that I was the guy who called and I asked who is doing the massage and she says “May”. But then she locks the door and it dawns on me that “May” is actually “Me” with an oriental accent.
Cracked me up  :D :D and a great read...
I did a review recently on the natural wellness place in Southgate N14 (its behind the tube station so easy parking)...try that next time, two out of the three were attractive, and B2B was available etc




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