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What right did he think he had to touch me like this in a professional setting? Was I a bad feminist? I’m 100% pro-sex positivity and mutual enjoyment, and this experience didn’t seem to sit right with that. Had he exploited me? Was I a victim of assault? My mind and body were saying yes all the way through, but I never consented verbally. I would argue that if you really respected them, you wouldn’t allow them to pleasure you for money in countries where the sex trade is so notoriously shady. Many of those women are victims of human trafficking, sold into the sex trade as slaves – sometimes underage – or were drawn into the industry by the twin demons of poverty and opportunity. I’m strongly anti-exploitation, and the idea of one of my male friends allowing a woman to give them a ‘happy ending’ would horrify me. Just look at the blurred lines between the sex trade and massage industry of Southeast Asia. Did he think he had to perform this for monetary purposes? Whether by experience or coercion, did he think it was his job to offer? But he didn’t do it because he wanted me. This was a practised move, clearly something he did often, and did well. Slowly, I grew uncomfortable with how expert he was.
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He certainly didn’t risk his job and livelihood because he was overwhelmed by passion for me. There are a lot of male sex workers in Cuba, so I had to wonder if he was one. The thought made me feel sick with embarrassment. That was until it dawned on me she probably knew exactly what was going on, and likely peeked through the tent to see when I was done. I smiled, knowing I wouldn’t.Īt first, I was relieved she hadn’t walked in a few seconds earlier. He asked my name, and told me to come again the next day. I didn’t make any eye contact at all as I settled the bill, and gave him a huge tip which is expected in Cuba. He turned, allowing me to dress, as if it had just been an ordinary massage. He used the towel to wipe oil from my body efficiently, while I lay blushing and giggling with my eyes closed. Which was lucky, as it turned out, because another massage therapist walked in right afterwards. I’ve never come so quickly, quietly or effortlessly in my life. Once he’d slowly and deliberately slid his fingers inside me, I couldn’t even think about anything else at all. But as he stroked my clit in sensuous, circular movements, I decided I didn’t care. It was an almost out-of-body experience.īriefly, I began to grow nervous about someone walking in (we were in a tent, after all). I was enthralled, and had no intention of stopping him. He moved my bikini to one side, spreading my legs apart with one hand. And he did, until I (almost unconsciously) began to shift my hips and tense upwards. I’ve never been so turned on in my life, but I assumed he’d stop there. I couldn’t believe that my ultimate sexual fantasy was being played out.
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It was like a jolt of static, and I knew something else was afoot But, as I’ve always found massage a sensual experience, I can’t pretend my body wasn’t responding. He completely avoided my chest and bum (not true of all masseurs, I can assure you), and rubbed my body without any… lingering.īy the end, I was lying on my back while he massaged my legs and thighs, which is perfectly normal, by the way. He was friendly but professional not chatty or personal. My happy ending massage fantasy played outĪt first, the massage was utterly innocent. So, when I heard about the hotel spa services while on holiday in Cuba I booked my appointment without any expectations.Īt the appointed time, I turned up at the ‘spa’ – a gauzy white tent on the hotel beach – and was assigned a male massage therapist. and ended in an unexpected orgasm.Ī happy ending massage - or sexual massage - was something I’d always fantasised about, but I never dreamed it would actually happen. W hat’s your ultimate sexual fantasy? Most of us have one, but what do you do after you’ve lived it out for real? This was the question I was confronted with after what was an innocent holiday massage ended became a sexual happy ending massage.