Bruce and his lady, Barbara, had decided to treat themselves to a massage to celebrate their third anniversary. They headed down to a recommended spa, which they had not yet had the opportunity to visit. However, the appointments were made, and they went with the assurance of a good referral from a reliable friend. Their first impression is that it was bright and clean, very spa like, certainly up to their expectations. The atmosphere instilled confidence that this would be an enjoyable experience.
After a reasonable time passed, an elderly gentleman entered the room and ushered Barbara away for her massage. Mmmm, concluded Bruce, I guess a bunch of old fogies work here. Ah, well, I’m sure they know their trade. Totally anticipating an elderly man, Bruce just about fell off his chair when a beautiful, tall, bosomy blond came in next and invited him to follow her. Of course, she had on a mini skirt, which showed her long, lanky legs, and a low-cut top that revealed, you guessed it, lots of cleavage. “Y-y-yes, I’ll f-follow you, w-with pl-pleasure,” he drooled to himself silently. This must be the secretary, was the thought racing through his mind.
She led him to a room with a massage table and invited him to prepare for the massage. He could remove his shorts or leave them on, whichever was more comfortable. At this point, he was thinking, Omg, I think she is the massage therapist. She discretely left him to his own devices.
He quickly stripped, lay on the bed, and pulled the cool sheet up over his naked body. This just doesn’t seem right, he reasoned with himself. I feel like I’m cheating on Barbara. He jumped off the massage table and quickly put his shorts back on and darted back under the sheet, feeling just marginally more comfortable.
The masseuse came in, and yes, it was she. He tried to relax as her hands spread lightly scented oil all over his back. As she leaned over his head to stretch her arms down to his waist, her breasts rubbed against his head. Holy cow! I hope my little man behaves himself. Down boy! As this thought raced through his mind, she was pressing down firmly on his lower back. It was as if she had flicked a switch from Hold to Release, and out of his butt rumbled a big fat cloud of pongy fumes. Oh no, he moaned to himself. Thees ees not poseeeble! He sputtered a pathetic apology. She quickly made some excuse to leave the room.
After the massage, he and Barbara headed home. He felt it better not to share the details of this little excursion, preferring instead that Barbara rest with the assumption that his masseur was an old fogy too. Besides, he was too embarrassed to speak.