Veggie masseuse comes over to the Dark Side
Bros, I have reached a major milestone in life. I have finally had a near Penthouse Letters experience. At the risk of boring everyone, I had to share this. Hope you enjoy.

No Punt for the Weary
I spend a lot of time in a certain small US city (so small that if I disclose the name, you might figure out who this masseuse is without much effort). This city is shit for mongering. There are a few AMPs, but unless you are into Korean grandmothers decades past their prime, you are out of luck. Instead of banging my head against the wall in search of a proper banging, I decide to give up the hunt in this place and instead make this town my regular stop for quality veggie massage.

Veggie Paradise
There are a couple Thai healing centers here and I decide to check one out. I select a place and a therapist based on a Craigslist ad. “Professional service only” it says. But the girl in the ad looks cute. I will call her Jenny.
The place is definitely a veggie business. It is located in a nice professional office building. There are four therapists, each with her own studio. They have a receptionist who does scheduling and takes payments. There are no showers. They close at 7:00 pm. The therapists’ photos are all on the lobby wall – 3 older Thai-looking ladies, and Jenny.
When I arrived, the receptionist called Jenny to the front and she introduced herself. She led me to her studio. Jenny is cute in person. She is friendly, yet professional. She has a toned athletic body and could pass for years younger than her age of 32. She is from Laos, but has a much lighter than average skin tone. She has lived in the US for over 10 years and her English is great.
Jenny leaves me to undress. Her studio is warm and nicely decorated with drapes and rugs in deep red colors and rich patterns. Multiple candles provide the only light other than a faux fireplace that puts out steady, comfortable heat. Soft music plays. The room feels powerful and strong, with a feminine touch.

An Addiction in the Making
I am naked face down on the massage table when she comes back. She drapes a small towel over my ass and starts to work on my shoulders. What ensues is probably the best veggie massage I have ever had.
Jenny combines Thai and Swedish techniques, using ample amounts of quality massage oil. She massages with her hands, forearms, elbows, knees and thighs with long, flowing motions. She is very sensual, but also therapeutically effective.
She massages literally every square millimeter of my body except for my shaft, balls and asshole. When I’m on my stomach, she reaches from behind, under my pelvis to massage all around my shaft. She massages my ass. Despite being everywhere with her hands (and forearms, and elbows and knees), she manages near zero incidental contact. And yet this is deeply erotic.
On the flip she holds up the small towel to shield her eyes and covers my obvious erection. She quietly goes about the same routine on the front, from head to toe and again massaging everywhere up to but not including my shaft.
Right at one hour she says “OK, finished. Did you enjoy?”  I can barely speak but manage, “Yes.” On her way out to let me dress, she smiles and says, “I think you will become addicted to me.”
I meet her up front to pay. Her rate is $65 per hour and I pay $80 and say she can keep the change. She thanks me and hands me a bottle of water. She smiles, “See you next time.”  No hug – very professional. “Bye,” I say.
There is no question I will repeat with her and I want her to know I appreciated the services. I had set up the appointment by text and I shot her a quick “thank you” a couple hours later. “You welcome J” she replied.



Immaculate no More
Two weeks later I paid my second visit to Jenny, again texting in advance for the appointment. She remembered me. The first half of the routine was the same as before, but this time on the flip she asked if I needed the towel. “No, that’s okay,” I said. She tossed it in the laundry basket.
She does the same routine as before, but this time once she has gone through every step she is sitting at the end of the table between my feet and she finally gets down to business. She doesn’t just grab my LB and start whacking it like a rub and tug. No, the first touch is very slight, with her forearms, as her hands massage my stomach. She is using the same long, flowing motions, leaning far over me to reach all the way to my chest and then back down to my legs, across my shaft, balls, anus. Even on the first touch, my excitement and anticipation are at a peak. Without concentration I would have shot my load right then.
Jenny proceeds to rub me down, with varied movements, focus areas, and techniques. She is still massaging my whole front, mixing the private areas into the movements. Gradually she focuses more and more on my package. Her patterns is almost tantric, bringing me close, then backing away again. Finally I can take no more and veritably explode all over my stomach and chest.
She smiles and cleans me up. “Okay,” she says and leaves me to dress. I meet her in front and this time I pay her directly. I give her $100. She doesn’t look at it – just hands me a water and says thanks.
“That was amazing,” I text later. “Glad you like it. J” she responds.

Untouchable
Over the next few months, this repeats every one to two weeks. I look forward to my visits to this city much more now. I’ve never asked her but I assume her routine is similar for many if not most of her male clients. I’m also convinced her colleagues don’t follow suit and probably don’t know what she does.
Over time we chat a bit more and get to know each other some. She has three kids. Single. She likes sweet white wine. I tell her about my SO and kids. She comments on liking my athletic body. She gives me a brief but warm hug at the end of each session now.
During the massages she wears small, tight shorts, showing off long legs. She stands about 5’5”. More than anything, I want to make the sessions more interactive – to touch her, too. But at the end of her routine she is always at my feet, out of touch. And when she is up by my head I never quite feel right about touching her. Too much a gentleman, and seemingly never the right moment to ask permission. I soooo want to grab that ass. This adds incredible tension to the sessions. I telepathically transmit my desire for her and I wonder if she can feel the energy.

Photo Op?
Finally I got a good chance to touch her, just last week (the second-to-last time I have seen her). I was in a great mood when I arrived. We chatted for a minute. She was happy to see me and she was in a relaxed mood.
This time at the latter part of the session she scooted up a little closer to me, sitting between my knees. She stretched out one of her legs and put her foot on the table by my left hand. I can no longer hold back. As she is working my loins, I slowly run my hand up her calf, gently massaging her lower leg. A couple minutes pass and she scoots even closer, allowing me to reach her thigh. Her skin is very smooth, some of the oil from earlier still there. She finishes me off. After months of frustration, from that simple touch I am so aroused I instantly recover. I could have gone again right then.
Jenny is different now, more friendly than usual. As she cleans me, she goes on and on about my cock. She holds it and admires it. “Can I take a picture of it?” “What for?” I smile. “Because I like it!” she beams. “What do I get in return?” I ask. “How about a naked picture of me?”  We kind of laugh off all of this and she stays in the room while I dress. She is straightening up but watching me and looking approvingly at me. We say goodbye. As I leave I secretly vow I will one day have sex with her.

Wine, Woman and Song
I saw Jenny again this week. I intentionally booked her last appointment of the day (6:00 pm), later than I have been before. I picked up a bottle of gewürztraminer (sweet white wine) on the way. It would be the first time I have brought her a gift. The building was very quiet when I arrived. No receptionist. Jenny heard the door and came down the hall to greet me. She has a huge smile and is wearing cute, tight sweats over her short, tight shorts.
I give her the wine and she is thrilled. To my surprise, she asks if I will have some with her. “Of course.”  While I undress, she disappears with the wine. I put a robe on and she returns, sans sweat pants, with the opened bottle, wine glasses, and a bowl of pistachios. I notice her lock the door.
We sit cross-legged on the well-padded massage table, our knees touching, and drink and chat. We have fun trying to toss the nut shells into the trash from where we are sitting. She likes the wine and drinks quickly. After about a glass, she asks if I am ready. Indeed….
She massages me for about 15minutes and then asks if I want more wine. Of course. We sit on the table again, this time with me naked, my partially pumped LB poking out. It doesn’t seem awkward at all.
After round two of wine, I lay back down and she continues massaging my backside. It might be my imagination, but she feels more sensual than ever. She finishes and softly says, “Okay, turn over.”  Time for me to make my move.

Touching Me, Touching You
I stand up. “If you would teach me, I could massage you, too,” I suggest. “You want to massage me?” she asks. “Yes.”  “Okay, let’s try,” she agrees. It was just that simple, and I can hardly believe it. She begins to undress and I turn away to give her privacy. I turn back and she is face-down on the table, topless but wearing a white lace thong. She has a tattoo on one shoulder blade.
I stand above her head and look down at her body. She doesn’t look like she has birthed three children. Strong shoulders and back. Nicely rounded ass. I dip my hands into the oil pot and set to work on her shoulders and back. She voices her approval. I try to copy her techniques, using my forearms, long strokes, reaching all the way to her ass. She is humming with satisfaction.
I move down to her legs, first one and then the other. I carefully massage her feet and toes and work up from there, mixing in long strokes like she does. I carefully avoid her LS, but I can see part of it peeking past the narrow thong.
After finishing her legs, my plan is to get on the table and really work on her ass like she typically does with me. But just as I’m taking off the robe to hop on the table, she hops off, her back to me, and dons a robe. “Thank you…that was very nice…you were very good,” she says. “You’re welcome.”  Bummer, I think to myself.
She excuses herself to the bathroom, first listening with the door cracked open to be sure we are alone. She comes back and we sit on the table again, her without the robe, and we finish the bottle of wine. The only clothing between us now is her thong. Our wine-drinking breaks feel kind of like strip poker and we’re both “winning.”
For the first time I see her bare breasts. They are A cups. What she lacks for in mass she makes up for in nipples. They are exceptionally large, both in length and girth. I have not personally been with a woman with such large nips. I also notice her breasts have no stretch marks. In fact, she has no stretch marks anywhere, rare for a three-time mother. I comment about how nice her body is and how I can’t believe she has kids. She blushes. She tells me she is lucky not to have stretch marks. Her sisters are jealous, she says.

Finishing Businesses
It is now time for her to massage my front and I lay on my back. Seemingly more aware now of her body, “I’m naked,” she says shyly. “It is the wine,” she continues. I quietly thank God for alcohol!
She begins her massage routine, but there is palpable passion in the air. I gaze at her, bare-chested before me. She is making much more eye contact than usual. She is far from gorgeous (maybe a 6.5 for a face), but in the dim light, under the influence of testosterone and wine, she seems angelic (but sinfully so).
She doesn’t stick with the usual routine long. The sexual tension draws her nearer and nearer to me and soon she is grinding on my LB (still with her thong on) and pushing her breasts into my mouth.
Jenny loves to have her nipples sucked and she seems to enjoy me playing with her ass and teasing her pelvic area, too. She is grinding me hard and becoming more vocal. She seems to be a split second away from pulling the thong aside and riding me bare-back. I ask her if she remembers the first thing she told me. She doesn’t and I remind her of her warning that I will become addicted to her. I tell her now she might become addicted to me. She giggles.
“Lay down,” I tell her and I roll her onto her back. I kiss her chest and start working down. She loves me kissing her navel. I pull off her thong. Shaved!
I start kissing around her pelvic area and very slowly teasing her with breath and lips. Noticing no odor, I move on in. She tastes great. I work her clitoris with my tongue and her G spot with my finger. She shudders and spasms crooked on the table. She doesn’t skip a beat, wanting more and more. Her thighs are tight against my head. I’m working my hands all over her body while dining. She is moaning and saying words in Lao or Thai I don’t understand. It is clear she is ready for more.

The Home Run
“I have a condom,” I tell her. She seems surprised…and happy. “You planned ahead,” she says with a wry smile. I don the cap and she pushes me onto my back. “Be gentle,” she whispers. I assure her I will.
She takes control on top and it is not long before she takes all of me. She is intensely passionate and strong. She is thrusting slowly but hard, pressing close, our legs locked like a pretzel. She is making intense fuck faces, her eyes closed. She isn’t very loud, but lets loose with audible exclamations at random between grunts and moans. The only word she says I understand is “Fuck!”
She is snug…not too tight or too loose. “We fit well together,” I say. “Yes,” she manages to say through forced breaths.
We continue like this for probably 20 minutes. Honestly, I don’t remember the last time I had a partner with that much intensity. Sometimes fast, sometimes not, but always with pressure and intensity. The best way I can put it is she is singularly focused and fucks with purpose. She wanted me. She NEEDED me.
The time comes for a change of position and I roll her over for missionary. I dial down the intensity and she responds favorably. I very, very slowly go all the way in and all the way out several times. “That feels so good, so gentle,” she says. After maybe 10 minutes in this position we have built intensity again. I change my angle and throw my left leg on the outside of her right leg. She goes crazy. “Come together,” she breathes. “Okay.”  I flip that mental switch and 60 seconds later we explode, our bodies collapsing in an oily, sweaty tangle, chests heaving to get air.
We recover and clean up and I help her straighten the room. “You need to come back every week and do this,” she says. In her mind, this is not a request…it is an order. “Has it been a while since you have had sex?” I ask, already knowing the answer. “Yes, way too long,” she answers.
I leave her $100 for the massage like always. She kisses me goodbye at the door and we promise to do it again soon.
In all I leave 2 hours, 20 minutes after I arrived, feeling like I’m on top of the world…like I just hit the home run that won the World Series. Where’s my press conference?  
I stop for Thai food on the way back to my hotel. Spicy. My second Southeast Asian meal that evening!  
I text her “Thank you. Good night.”  “Thank YOU. Good night honey,” she replies.

The End

Good story, Bro.  Well written too.  We got another storyteller here, it seems!  A great build-up for ya and a great outcome!

Reminds of a similar experience when I was a punting newb:  had a veggie massage in a totally legit and fancy joint.  The gal is hot and about 5 or so years older than I.  The massage is excellent - very pro but also very sensual.  She got me rock hard but never touched LB or indicated anything was gonna happen but a veggie massage.  I noticed her smiling and  staring at my bulge thru the thin sheet that covered me.

I went back, she smiled sincerely upon seeing me.  The session ensues, it's  great again and so sensual again.  But unlike you, I DID make the move to touch her when she was near my head.  My hand rested an inch from her leg, I reach out slowly and softly caress down from her mid-thigh to calf.  Mmm, so warm and soft.  She didn't back away.  When I did the flip, still covered, my raging hardon was obvious once again.  She work me well all over but never touched LB.  Finally, surprisingly, she slowly slides the sheet completely off and utters a beautiful little "sigh".  "Beautiful body" she whispers.  I look at her - she still won't touch LB but clearly is happy I'm lying naked.  WTF?  I take her hand and move it to LB but she says "I can't, I can't.., will get fired.  But... Please..., You do it.".  Huh!?!  But I could tell it was sincere.

So, as I start to jerk myself off she pours oil all over my shaft and massages my stomach and thighs and just barely touching my balls.  I explode.  And she moans a little.  It made her hot, no question about it.  She stays as I dress.  We hug as I am still sitting - a very intense, intimate hug.  And then kiss. (Shock!)  We break, and I say... "Christ, I really want you!".  "Yes" she replies.  "You drive me crazy" I say.  "I know" she replies, "I love it.., making you crazy".  "Next time.., please???" I beg, " We'll be so careful and silent!".   
And the next time I went there was no massage at all!  We kissed as I entered and laid down together - and very tenderly, slowly, made love.  Damn it was nice.  

Marina, her name was.

I went back a week later, thinking of her all week, and the place was closed.  This was days before everyone had mobile phones, so I never heard from her again.  Twenty years on I still remember her vividly.   

The build-up, the uncertainty,  the sexual tension... It makes that home-run all the more sweet.