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georgmicrodong

Just a fat, creepy old pervert.

I've been going to strip clubs since my 17th birthday in 1978. In that time, I've had my share of sex with all sorts of women. I've sampled a few escorts in that time as well, but for the most part, as I've posted before, I like the variety and "try before you buy" aspect of strippers.

So last month, I decided to try something a little, or as it turns out, a lot, different. At 51, for the first time in my life, I went to a massage parlor. Now, I've gone on a few occasions to therapeutic massage practitioners for treatment related to my back injury of a few years ago, and a few of the strippers I've known have been moderately proficient at body rubs, but never to a dedicated masseuse for the sheer sybaritic pleasure of laying there and being pampered.

After perusing BackPage and a provider review site, I'd narrowed my choices down to a few that seemed more promising than the rest. They all explicitly mentioned being Licensed Massage Therapists (LMT), appropriately educated and properly licensed by the appropriate government entities. My thinking was that if I'm going to pay for a massage, whatever else I might hope or expect, I want the *massage* to be worth it, and these women were all highly thought of in that regard.

Employing the shotgun method, I called and left messages with my top three choices asking to set up an appointment. Three days later, still no response. Well, I thought, this doesn't bode well. Either they are so busy with regular clients (entirely possible given the sorts of glowing reviews that led me to them in the first place), or their business sense sucks. Later that day, however, one of them responded, coincidentally, the one who was highest on my list.

Her name was Elaine (not really, but you know why); I introduced myself, we talked about what types of massage she did, what my expectations were, what prices pertained, etc. I asked her what time slots she had available, and we settled on a Friday afternoon hour long appointment. I'd have to leave work early, but her next available one was late the following week, so I took it.

Friday afternoon, I arrived at her "studio", a run down building in a somewhat sketchy area not too far from downtown Louisville. Not exactly what I expected, but there was off-street parking and it was still daylight, so I decided to stick it out a bit longer. It concerned me a little when Elaine answered the door by unlocking it first, but that same lock would ensure *my* privacy, so I'd deal. She was a little older than the picture in her ad, but the reviews had mentioned that, and I was prepared for it. She was very well shaped, curvaceous without being overly so, wearing a dress that accentuated her figure. She greeted me, shaking my hand and smiling the kind of smile for which face models are paid mega bucks.

She led me through what had obviously been a residential dwelling at one point, to her studio, which was just as obviously a re-purposed bedroom. I asked for the restroom, which she pointed out, and then pointed out the chair and clothes hooks and said, "When you're done there, make yourself comfortable and lie face down on the table. I'll be back when I don't hear you moving around anymore and get started."

When I came out of the bathroom, the lights had been dimmed and there was some quiet combination of nature sounds, white noise and simple melody playing in the room. I noticed the towel draped on the side of the table, so I undressed completely and laid down. As I was attempting to manipulate the towel over my buttocks, she reentered and said "Um, just so you know, that's for your comfort, not mine, so if you want to leave it off, I don't mind at all. Whatever allows you to relax best." Since I've been displaying my increasingly less than appealing naked body for 20-something strippers for quite some time now, body modesty isn't much of an issue any longer, so I handed it to her.

As I lay there with my head on the pillow, she went around to the back side of the table where her oils were. I heard a rustle, and turned my head to see her pulling her dress over her head, leaving here with nothing on but a small flower patterned pair of panties. The dress hadn't really hidden much except her breasts, and those were still firm, if not precisely perky, with large pinkish brown nipples. Her long black hair, held back in a pony tail when I'd entered, was now loose and hung down almost to her elbows.

I must have looked a little startled, because she said, "It's only fair. You're comfortable, so I don't see any reason for me not to be," and cracked another one of those smiles.

"Lay your head back down, close your eyes, and concentrate on your breathing. Let's get started, shall we?"


To be continued...