Happy Ending Massages? Should I go for it
Every girl loves a good massage, right? As an overworked PA to the world’s most demanding boss (think The Devil Wears Prada but worse!), having that hour to destress and unwind quickly became an essential part of my self-care routine after a friend insisted on dragging me along to a spa to celebrate her engagement. I’ve never been so blissed out as I was after that first massage when my masseuse worked her magic on all the knots of tension across my shoulders and back.
You always hear plenty of jokes about so-called with happy endings, but there was never any suggestion that my masseuses would be anything other than professional. On the one occasion where my masseur mistakenly tugged my towel down too far to reveal my buttocks, he was so mortified that he refused to charge me.
Much as I loved getting a free massage, that incident sparked a curiosity in me that refused to be satisfied. Was it even possible to get a ‘happy ending massage’ as a woman?
After a bit of online research, I decided to try out some of the tips I’d read about when it comes to finding that elusive happy ending with a male masseur. One time, I tried groaning encouragingly when he massaged the tops of my thighs, but he seemed to take that as my wanting him to massage harder, leaving me sore instead of calm. With another masseur, I ‘accidentally’ dropped my towel to reveal my breast, but he simply got a bigger towel!
I’d become resigned to the fact that the happy ending massage had to be a myth until I stumbled upon a website that offered exactly that. Massage4her.com is a site designed specifically for women who want their massage to come with that extra special something.
The second I clicked on the site, I couldn’t help but blush. Every single one of the masseurs were seriously hot with a capital HOT!
I shut down the site. What was I thinking? It was one thing to flirt with my masseur. It was something altogether different to actively hire a masseur knowing that he was going to get me off. This wasn’t for me.
But I found myself returning to the site time and again, clicking through the profiles of the different masseurs and fantasizing about what it might be like to feel their hands on my body. A good masseur knows his way round a woman’s body with a sure and deft touch that’s indescribable. I couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like to be the one in charge of the situation, the one in control of what happened. After all, why should men have all the fun? Isn’t it time that women got to experience the same benefits that men have been enjoying for so long?
There was one masseur in particular whose profile I kept coming back to. Bruce (not his real name) was my dream guy. He had gorgeous smoky gray-green eyes, and short, tousled black hair. He was shirtless in his profile pic, showing off a smattering of artistic tattoos.
If anyone could give me a happy ending, it was Bruce.
It took me a few weeks of daydreaming about it, but when my boss snapped at me for not paying attention, I knew that I had to make my dreams a reality. According to Bruce’s profile, he provided a number of different massage styles, including sensual and Tantric massage, so I specified an aromatherapy sensual massage so that there’d be no doubt about what I wanted from him. Before I could have second thoughts, I messaged him and it wasn’t long before I’d arranged a time to meet up with my new masseur.
I wasn’t sure what to expect when I went to Bruce’s studio. Visions of dimly lit rooms down a dark alley danced around my head, but when I pulled up outside his apartment, I was pleasantly surprised. The entrance to his studio was sandwiched between a therapist’s office and a hairdressing salon. There was nothing to suggest that anything untoward or unprofessional went on here.
I pressed the buzzer to let Bruce know I was there and he came to let me in. I had to restrain the urge to gasp when I saw him. He was even more gorgeous in person than he’d been in the photo. I couldn’t believe that I was lucky enough to be one of his clients.
“Hey, Becky,” he smiled. “Come on in.”
He showed me through to a small, candlelit room laid out in preparation for my massage. Fresh, clean towels were laid out on the massage table, soothing music playing to set the mood. He left me to get undressed and soon I was lying completely nude on the table, with nothing but a small towel covering me.
“You booked a sensual massage, is that right?” Bruce asked when he came back. “That’s right,” I confirmed. “Well, I want you to relax and enjoy yourself,” he told me. “This is your massage, and all that matters is that you enjoy yourself. Feel free to tell me if I’m using too much pressure or not enough and if you want me to stop at any time, just say so. You are in control here. All I want is to make you feel good.”
I let out a sigh of satisfaction as he started massaging my back.
“Is that good for you?” he asked. “You have no idea,” I murmured, as he skilfully worked my aching shoulders. While I was a woman on a mission for complete satisfaction, I genuinely needed a massage and Bruce knew exactly what he was doing as he worked his way down from my shoulders to the small of my back.
My eyes were at groin height and I could see that he was as excited about what he was doing as I was, so I decided to be brave. I reached out and lightly brushed against his thigh, doing just enough to let him know that I was interested while being able to claim ignorance if I’d got this whole thing wrong.
“I think it’s time we turned you over,” grinned Bruce.
Usually when my masseurs asked me to turn over, they’d hold the towel to protect my modesty, but this time, Bruce took my towel away, so that when I was lying on my back, I was completely exposed. It was the most erotic experience of my life. Knowing that Bruce could see every inch of my body and would be exploring it all was almost enough to send me spiraling into orgasm before he even did anything.
He moved to stand behind me so that he could massage my breasts. He ran his thumb over my nipples, making them more erect than I ever thought possible. I closed my eyes, luxuriating in the feeling of his hands on my body.
After a while, he changed position so that he could work on my thighs.
“You can tell me to stop at any time,” he reminded me as his hands went higher, and higher, but I had no intention of telling him any such thing. In fact, I opened my legs a little to make it easier for him to touch me. However, he took his time to get to my clitoris. I was so turned on that by the time he did reach my most intimate areas, I came almost immediately, an orgasm that was so earth shattering that I felt as though I’d never be able to walk again
Even after I came, Bruce was still the consummate professional, respecting my modesty when it was time for me to get dressed and not pressuring me into returning the favor in any way. It was as though a sensual massage was the most normal thing in the world, and I suppose for Bruce it must be.
If you’ve ever considered having a sensual massage, my advice is to go for it. Your boundaries are respected every step of the way, and even if you decide not to let your masseurs go further than a traditional massage, it’s good to know that women now have the choice.