Photo Credit: iStock. By Alex Alexander. Until I experienced it for myself. I was at a regular spa. Not a special parlor, but your garden-variety spa known amongst all the new and popular chain spas that have popped up all over the good old USA, offering monthly spa memberships.
At the time, I was also going through a bad breakup. My ex and I finally ended our long-term relationship; in the last few years of our relationship, the sex was non-existent. It was emotionally crushing and killed my self-esteem. I wondered if I was still sexy and still lovable.
I had a male masseuse and he was the absolute right choice for my sore and broken-down body. At one point during the massage, as I was face up, my towel slipped revealing my right breast. I noted that. And noted that I was excited. Yet, this man was easily fifteen years older than I was and not even close to my physical type. It was just fun to have that kind of sexual tension in the air again after a few years of sexual drought.
Plus, my body was so relaxed that it was hard not to get excited. Here was an hour of peace and relaxation just for me to forget everything. Not only was the idea of teasing him again a bit exciting, but my neck and back β which were a mess β felt a million times better. The spa receptionist had definitely set me up with the right masseuse.
A month later, I went back and requested the same man. Except this time, when I entered the room there was a familiarity and playfulness. As we got into the massage I noticed him getting particularly close to sensitive areas. For example, when he started to massage the backs of my thighs, he got particularly far into my buttocks and vaginal area. I was already getting turned on, so by the time he flipped me over to work my front, I was curious: how far would it go this time?
