Monday, August 17, 2009

Thai Time

I've mentioned how I have never liked "happy endings" on my massages. They're sort of like watching porn while you're getting a pedicure. Mixed signals, you know? Here's a perfect example: I got a couple of massages from Jay a few years ago. In real life he is even humpier than he looks here. And while I regard that as a dandy thing, and while being rubbed by him sounds like it would be even dandier, I was so distracted by his extreme humpiness, I couldn't pay attention to the massage itself. And since there was no happy ending, the massage was all there was to pay attention to. So now he sends me emails reminding me I haven't seen him in a while and I just stare at the message, conflicted.

Fortunately, I have found Pan.O my goodness, sweet, adorable, skin like satin and muscles like cantaloupes. Thai massage and a happy ending to end all happy endings. Yowzah, in fact, Yow. Zah. He is so fine, so fine, and his Thai massage involves things I blush to discuss in front of the Ladies.

Now of course there is a reckoning. Lie down with dogs, get up fleas, lie down with Thai rentboys, get up with a trip to the doctor for penicillin shots. Oh dear. I thought those days were all behind me. Looks like I was wrong.

8 comments:

  1. Sounds like I need to schedule a massage! I've had some very good happy ending massages, but I think I'm in the mood for some Thai.

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  2. Pad Thai Bung Hole is a delicacy in many parts of the world...

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  3. I've never seen such beefy Thai! Impressive!

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  4. Gosh, I'm ashamed to even admit I didn't even know what a Thai massage was.
    So much to learn!

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  5. When we were living in Cairo, I was recommended to a place once by a friend - a really, really upscale hotel, actually, for what I thought was a standard elegant-hotel-spa massage. It was terrific, and for the first half-hour or so the masseur was a doing a great job.

    Then I'm lying there on my back and starting to think that the guy was taking a really long time on my neck and shoulders. I open my eyes, and am startled to see what looks like the business end of Jeff Stryker dangling an inch or so above my nose.

    When I excoriated Roger for not warning me, he was surprised that I was surprised - "isn't that what a massage is for?"

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