Massages with Happy Endings
Recently, due to my circumstances, I have entered into the world of “Massage Therapy” a form of prostitution, but little more legal. I’ve had some life altering changes, devastating tragedies and failed business attempts that have forced me into this path that I would have never thought myself to be in. I’ve learned that there are many men that are in need of a special service that must be provided by someone, i.e., me and my skills in ”Massage Therapy”!
Many of the men that come to use my services, have wives, girlfriends or significant others. The men that choose my services are either unwilling or find it distasteful to go the usual route and pick up the “Street Hooker” and/or cannot afford the so called services of the higher end prostitute known as “Escorts” or ”Call-girls”. Instead they call a “Massage Therapist” a more dignified form of prostitution. A “Massage Therapist” is usually listed in their category as unlicensed, Body Rubs, Sensual Massages or other such headings in the local newspaper, weekly rags and on-line services like the popular Craigslist.org, The New Times internet advertising service called Backpage.com and several others.
Until recently, anyone at anytime could post these advertising services, anonymously or under an assumed name an ad describing their services in a most explicit way, even posting nude and erotic pictures of themselves to entice the customer to use their services over the competitions. Hhowever in the last few months, these advertising entities have started charging a small fee to “Post” an advertisement and requiring the poster’s email address to be authorized by sending the authorization code to a legitimate phone number. All of these new rules have gone into place due to pressure from local and national law enforcement agencies trying to crack down on this explosive market of acceptable prostitution veiled in a legitimate form called “Massage Therapy”. Maybe it because of the economy or the even the ever increasing popularity of sex clubs such as ”Encounters”, which encourages the freedom of expressing ones sexual preference, desires and needs in a public setting and supplying the avenues to achieve them. Whatever the reason, there definitely has been a dramatic increase in postings of these types of ads offering these and similar type services. Understandably so, since many women, like myself, have had to turn to, or invent creative ways of making a few bucks just to pay the bills each month. Jobs are few and far between for many us and since selling sex in a not so selling sex way is appealing and is more socially acceptable, then why not do it? For both the “Massage Therapist” and the “client” it really doesn’t feel like prostitution since in most cases, the sexual act of intercourse isn’t being talked about or even being engaged in (it’s only a hand job!). In most cases, unless a higher fee called “Tipping” is paid, then when the massage is over and the “Happy Ending” begins, either the “client” or the “Massage Therapist” helps to release the orgasm which has been building to the climactic end by massaging the penis with the hand in a jerking motion (hand job), thus releasing the pent up stress. “Now, did that sound like sex to you?”, I ask.
As for the advertising entities that are under pressure to crack down on prostitution, by charging this small fee for the “Massage Therapist” to post an ad for these types of service, a few things begin to take fold:
1) The pressure is off of them since they are now getting personal information on the person that’s posting and in doing so are deterring the real “Prostitutes” from using their services, thus “doing their part”!
2) Law Enforcement is supposedly able to now find the evil “Prostitute” and arrest her!
3) It hypothetically narrows the market to a better class of “Massage Therapists” since in order to post the ad now, you must have a legitimate phone number and valid credit card to place the ad.
However, it also helps if the “Massage Therapist” has a residence or place to work from as the men will generally be in need of the “In-call” service”, after all, discretion and privacy is of the utmost importance to them. Most of these men will want to visit the the “Massage Therapist” that is providing this service as well. However, there is a market for “Out-call”, some men or woman prefer to be “serviced” in the comfort of their own surroundings. A good “Massage Therapist” will let their availablity known by stating “In-call” or “Out-call” services in their ads.
However, where there is a will, there is a way, and new services have been popping up to help that “Massage Therapist” get her or his message out. Whether you’re’ in of need of a Phone verification, Posting under a pseudo name or even a billing address, there is a company to provide those services and with someone to help.
So this industry interests you?
Massage Therapy / Body Rubs – A meaningful discussion!
What to do to get started! A brief explanation.
The ROOTS!
I am a Twitter junkie!
I had had my soon-to-be ex-husband #6, whom I’d been married to for over 7 years, served with a restraining order on that fateful day. After continuous arguing with him for the past three days, over 3 beers I had purchased, I had had enough. His verbal and emotional abuse had taken its toll and I was done, I wanted him out of our apartment. So on the morning of the forth day, I went to the courthouse, filed a restraining order and started the divorce proceedings, which took up all of my morning and most of the afternoon. I was only going to use those documents to teach him a lesson and to get him to shut-up. The lesson I was hoping he would learn was that he couldn’t treat me like he had been, he couldn’t call me names like cunt, whore, bitch, thieving drunk, and the such. He knew how much I hated being called those names, which is why he did it.
On my way home, I had found two police officers that were in their patrol cars by a convenience store very close to where he and I lived . I asked them if they would serve my husband with the papers as he was about to get off work. They agreed , asked me where they could find him and told me to stay where I was, by the store, until they served him and that they would come back to tell me when they were done. I nodded that I understood and proceed to stay right where I was. It took them quite a long while to come back and I was starting to get a little nervous and fearful. My imagination started to take over with different scenarios of the possible outcomes when they had encountered my husband! I thought what if they tried to serve him with the papers and instead shot him? What if he had argued with them like he did with me and they were forced to arrest him? I hadn’t want ed him hurt or arrested, I loved him, I had just wanted him to finally shut up about the beers and the restraining order and divorce papers were just supposed to be a wake-up call to him. I really didn’t want any of it, I was just tired of his treatment of me.
Well as it turned out, he had told the police officers that it was his apartment I was trying to get him out of and that I was the one that had no business being there. He had turned the tables on me and had taken the officers to the office manager of our apartment building to confirm it, and while he was there he had me “No Trespassed”. You see, as it turned out, I wasn’t on the lease so therefore I had no rights to be on the property and had to immediately remove myself from the property. The very same police officers that I had asked to help me serve him with my papers, were now about to escort me off the property! The officers stood between myself and my husband as I was allowed to pack a small bag with some of my things in it. One of the officers told me I would be arrested if I came back onto the property.
My husband was laughing and flipping me off with his middle finger, even shouting over one of the officer’s shoulder, ” How do you like me now, Bitch? It backfired on you, huh. Stupid fucking bitch\”
I was devastated and confused! I didn’t know what to say or do. How could my buying three beers four days ago cause all of this? The police officers stayed behind at the apartment with my husband. They were agreeing and laughing with him. I left and I knew I couldn’t go back, but I didn’t know what I was going to do either! I had no money, no job, no friends and no family that I could call. I had nowhere to go and no one to turn to! Devastated and exhausted by the events of that day. I was crying uncontrollably as I made my way back to that convenience store where I had first met the policemen, not knowing why I was going there, it was just a familiar place and brought some comfort.
There are some big boulders that sit next to that store, they are there to deter people from parking on the empty lot behind the store, I sat on one of them clutching my bag to me. My mind was racing and at the same rejecting all of the things that I could and couldn’t do, as well as the things that I should do. I shouldn’t go back to the apartment, I would get arrested. I couldn’t and wouldn’t apologize to my husband! After all I thought to myself, this iwas all of his fault and he needed to apologize to me! Then an idea hit me, I could go to the casino where I new some people and see if them were there. I wasn\’t sure if I knew anyone well enough that might loan me some money, it was a long shot, but it was the only thing I could think of at the time.
The casino that I had in mind was about 5 miles from where I was and it was starting to get dark outside so I knew I had better hurry. I had no car and that meant I was going to be walking, and so I picked up my small bag and started my journey to the casino. I knew that I really didn’t know anybody there and the few faces I would recognized were just acquaintances, people I had chatted with when I had gone there to play the games. No one I considered a real friend anyway and I knew that I would be embarrassed to even ask such a favor people I hardly knew. But I was determined and I convinced myself that if I did see someone that I knew I would wait until they hit a jackpot until I asked them. I knew from experience that one was in a more agreeable mood if they were winning opposed to someone that was winning. So I started walking, but I didn’t have to walk very far when a young Hispanic man about 30 and in a very nice truck stopped me and asked me if I needed a ride!
I said, ” Oh yes please, I’m trying to get to Casino Arizona and its starting to get dark out!” He told me to get in and that he would take me there. As we were driving to the casino, I noticed that his eyes would dart to my chest and then back to the road. I told him about my situation and the reason for me going to the casino, he nodded in understanding but he was so enthralled with my breast that he never made eye contact with me. When we got to the casino and as I was about to get out of his truck he put his hand on my arm and asked me if I was “working”. I shook my head and told him that I had already told him that I didn’t have a job. He gave me a wicked kind of grin and said, ” I’m not talking about a job, baby. I got $50.00 you can have if you let me fuck you and suck on those beautiful big tits of yours.” At first , I was offended and indignant of his proposal, but quickly thought to myself, why not after all I was going to the casino to beg money from people I didn’t even know. I might not get anything for my trouble and then be stuck at the casino. Or I could do what this young man was suggesting and have a sure $50.00 bucks right now! So, I agreed and we headed to a park that he thought we could do the deed at. I was beside myself with fear and anticipation, yet the excitement caused by the unknown was intriguing. I had never been with another man the whole time I had been with my husband and I never thought I would be, but it was different now! I felt that after all that had taken place that day, my marriage was over! God, did I need a drink, my throat was so dry and my head hurt from all the crying. I asked him if we could get something to drink before we went to the park and he pulled into a store and got me a beer. I popped the tab on that beer and drank half of it before we left the driveway of the store. Liquid courage they call it and man was I glad the beer gave it to me as well as quenching my thirst.
The park he had in mind wasn’t far from the store. In all my years of going to the park with my kids, I never saw anyone in a car or truck having sex, but to be fair, I never paid attention to the parked cars. We had to drive around a bit in his truck, because several of the cars that were parked had people in them trying to accomplish the same thing we were there for. Maybe not an exchange of money for sex, but they were definitely having sex. I couldn’t help but wonder, if I had paid attention when I took my kids to the park , would I have seen people fucking then, too!
As it turns out, he was more nervous than me. When he handed me the money, the beer he had bought me was kicked over and spilled as he tried to get into the back of his extended cab. He kept looking around to make sure no one had seen us park and that no one was watching us. He was muttering that his sister was going to kill him for being late and complaining that he had kicked over the beer, til finally I said, “If were gonna do this then please let’s get it done! ”
Finally he put on a condom and filled it with cum and at 50 years of age I was turning tricks. I was a bonifide hooker. He took me back to the casino and left. I now had $50.00. I was sick to my stomach and very angry at myself and my husband, but what is done is done. I was standing there at the entrance to the casino and got this brilliant thought that maybe I could double my money and get a motel room for the night. I had no idea how much a motel room would cost, but I was sure it was more than $50.00 and I was sure I would double my money! Not one of the better ideas that I\’ve had, I proceeded to lose $40.00 of the money I had and had to quit. I needed to keep at least $10.00 so I could at least buy a beer. Defeated and with slumped shoulders, I was crying again and walking down the road with no destination in mind, with bag in tow a taxi driver stopped and asked me if I needed a ride. I had no money to give him and just looked at him and shook my head. He must have seen my tears and swollen eyes, because he insisted I get in. I did and sniffed back my tears. He asked me what was wrong and I gave him a recap of my day, omitting the financial transaction I had made earlier, of course. I also directed him to take me back to the convenience store I had left. I told him that I was supposed to meet someone there that might give me some money. (That was a lie of course, but I was hoping I would see my husband and he would give me some money.) When he got me there, he handed me his business card and told me that if things didn’t work out and my “freind and they didn’t show up, to give him a call and he would get me a room. I thanked him and told him I would call. I had no intention of giving him a call, because I had started to formulate another plan as we drove to my destination, I had decided that there was nothing to live for any longer and I might has well end it all. I was going to kill myself. it made sense to me. My d34 year old daughter, had been killed a few months earlier, I had lost a business that I had worked almost hard at 24 hours a day for nearly 4 months, my husband was lost to me and I had no where to go.
I went into the store and bought me a little 24 ounce keg of beer and went back out to sit on my boulder. As I was drinking my beer, I saw the highway 202 overpass that crossed over the street that the store was on. That was it, I thought to myself, I’ll just jump off the bridge and kill myself. Perfect, now all I needed was a semi-truck to come by to make sure I got splattered to pieces. That thought was not mere hope, the Central Post Office which was the main distribution center for all of the outer Post Offices was about 3 blocks down the road. I knew there would be many semi’s passing my way. I finished my beer , went in to the store and bought another and then headed for the hill that held the overpass and started climbing. Half way up to the overpass there was a little clearing so I took a moment to sit down, opened my beer and said “Cheers!” to no one in particular and to everyone I ever knew, it was to be my last night alive and I wanted to savor my beer and the moment!
About that time I spotted my husband, he was standing just below and looking up at me. I knew I didn’t have much time now and I certainly had nothing to say to him. What was there to say anyway? He had thrown me under the bus, so to speak, and I would never forgive him for that. I could see his mouth moving so I new he was yelling something up at me, I couldn’t hear him because the noise from the traffic on the highway was drowning out his voice. Besides, I really didn’t care what he was saying. To me it seemed he had the uncanny ability to ruin anything I was trying to accomplish, I thought. I was trying desperately to finish my beer, climb the hill and drag my bag with me before I was stopped by him. I finally reached the top when I realized that there was a wire fence preventing me from reaching my destination, the overpass bridge!
“It figures!”, I muttered under my breath when I spotted an opening that might get me to the overpass. There was a place wide enough for me to pass through, right where the fence ended and the bridge began. It seemed from where I was standing that there was just enough room for me to get through and as I got closer I realized I was right. So I squeezed right through it and then I was on the overpass! Now, I thought I just had to wait for the semi to come through. I knew it would be a timing issue for me, after all, I didn’t want to just get hurt, no, I wanted to die. So I was trying to figure out how far away would the semi should be when I jumped so that it would hit me just before I landed on the pavement. About that time I looked down and saw my husband again. He was still yelling something up at me. That dumb ass!” I said, “Doesn’t he know I can’t hear him?” It was kind of funny and fitting to me that he’d be the last thing I saw and I was pretty sure he was bitching about something I did or was doing and so the last thing I’d hear before I’d die was him, which was the one thing I was trying to get away from in the first place; his constant bitching at me, degrading comments to me and his undermining of everything I tried to do! I was a failure by association I thought and I hadn’t got away from him until now and from the looks of it that wasn”t working out for me either.
I noticed another man, I hadn’t noticed him before because he was directly across from my husband on the other side of the road and it was dark out now. I made my way across the overpass and was directly above him. I threw my bag and purse over the railing to him. I yelled down at him to give my earthly belongings to the asshole across from him. That way I thought, they could use my license to identify the body. Secretly, I was hoping to cause my husband some remorse for my demise, but from where I was standing he looked like he was loving every minute of my misery. As I’m wallowing in self-pity, I noticed to the right of me those dreaded blue and red lights, which only means, COPS.
Hello world!
Hard for me to believe that this is my first blog. I have been in the computer/software business for more than ten years, yet I never took blogging very seriously, nor did I really think I had any one subject that interested me enough to write about it consistently, until now.
I have chosen prostitution as my subject, because in one way or another, all my life, sex and money were bed partners with me. (No pun intended!) When I was young and vulnerable, I had a step-father who would beat me during the day and molest me at night. As I grew older, I learned that not only if I would let him touch me that I wouldn’t get as many beatings, but that I was also able to get or do things that I wanted. When I was newly married for the first time at the tender age of 15, again I to used my sexuality in order to get what I wanted from my young unsuspecting husband. I found that I could trade, on a promise, a thrilling night of sex to my new husband and get what I wanted or needed from him, too. I felt that I had to do this, he brought home the paycheck, he controlled the finances, he dictated if I was worthy enough based on my sexual abilities.
I have since used to barter my sexuality at several jobs I have had to advance in the company, with policemen to get out of tickets, to bartenders to get another drink, and any multitudes of other scenarios that I was trading sex for something, and just not outright asking for the cash each time. However, when I was modeling and some of the “important” men that I met tried to have sex with me, I just flat out asked them for money, some of them gave it to me and others did not. Those that did not, well they did not get this pussy, not willingly at least!
I have been married several times and have had numerous boyfriends, girlfriends, casual acquaintances, one night stands and yet one thing remains the same, SOME MAN WANTS THIS PUSSY AND IS WILLING TO PAY ME FOR IT! Now why should I pass that up? I’m not talking some freaky off the wall messed up sex act. No, mostly they want a blow-job and if the want the sexual act called intercourse its usually just the plain old missionary style. In some way, shape or form I have been a prostitute, always getting what I wanted by trading for sex, but it wasn’t until recently, that I recognized that I had been doing it all along.
Now that I am older and have had time to reflect on my reality, I have stepped it up a notch, which by the way is not really prostitution, and have added the massage/body rub techniques to offer what men really want, the chance to touch or play with this pussy! And why not, I ask. I like sex, I like to touch, I know what a good massage feels like and I know how an orgasm feels after a massage/body rub. Many men will go out of there way to find a new woman to have sex with as long as they don’t have to call it prostitution and if they are given a legitimate way to release themselves that lets them ease there conscience so that they can face the respective others then I say, go for it. There are less harmful consequences for both the woman or man providing the services, as it is for the gentleman procuring the service.
