- You can lie down, sir … What’s your name?
- Claudio. Claudio Cunha Pereira. – He replied when settling on the stretcher.
- Is this the first time, Mr. Cláudio? – I asked while separating the materials.
- You don’t need that, just call me Claudio. Yes it is. The people at work indicated me so I took a little break and slipped away. – He gave a crooked laugh, had a gold tooth. He looked to be in his fifties, was almost bald and had a protruding belly.
- Oh great. Sir … I mean, you’re going to love it. I’m going to start now Claudio, please close your eyes and try to relax.
I blow out the candles and raise the incense that fills the air with a smell of dew. I pour the oil over the client’s back and start the massage spreading over the entire surface of the skin. First massaging the trapeze. I feel the muscle a little stiff and increase the pressure on my fingertips.
- Ah. – He contracts his body a little and narrows his eyes.
- Sorry, do you want me to lower the pressure?
- No, it’s great. I prefer like this. You have angel hands. – Seu Cláudio says, returning his head back to the hole in the stretcher. – Listen, are you married?
- Separate. – I travel your back massaging the scapula and go down to the side of the belly.
- Separate, huh. Oh… – He moans again. – New like you. With such a beautiful body and such a delicious hand.
- Mr. Claudio. Focus on relaxing. – I try to bring him back for the massage. He was now squeezing the inside of his thighs with both hands when he suddenly turned up.
- I’m already pretty relaxed. – He says as he turns around dropping the towel and holding the hard member in his hands. I moved the fifteen centimeters up and down while watching me with that crazy face.
- Mr. Cláudio! What…
- Let’s jump to the “finalmente”! – He interrupted. – I want to get this over with, baby. I have a meeting in half an hour.
- Mr. Cláudio. I don’t know if you understood correctly, but this is a massage clinic, not a brothel!
- Look here my daughter, I paid and paid dearly. So stop messing around and give me what I came for. – He grunted before taking his hand full to my ass and squeezing it so hard it made me jump.
- I don’t know if you think every whore is a massage parlor, – I moved away protecting the body. – but not every massage parlor is a whorehouse! I will not have sex with you! If that was your intention, I ask you to withdraw now!
- But what a little place mequetrefe! – He spat again, wrapping himself in the towel while he picked up his clothes and tried to put on his pants. – And now how do I do with my dick in this state ?!
- You stick him in the whore that gave birth to you, I don’t care! I just want you to leave my office soon! – I screamed in revolt, the blood went up to my head and I forgot all the professionalism.
- Abused little girl! You will see, this place has its days numbered! I will file a case as soon as I leave here. You will never open a joint like this again. – He left grumbling as he crossed the lobby still without a shirt and with the buttons of his pants open.
I dropped my body to the floor and put my head between my knees. I felt my brain pound with so much headache, I was feeling offended and abused. The boiling blood was now starting to cool and I was beginning to think about what he had said.
And he did what he promised. A short time later a letter arrived saying that our establishment operated clandestinely and even though it was a blatant lie with this false rumor spreading, we almost had to close the doors. We lost most of the customers and got stuck in debt to the point of not seeing any way out of that situation. I wondered if I had acted correctly, if I could have reversed what I would have done?
- What are you going to do now? – One of the last few clients I still had asked while dressing after her session.
- I think there’s no way, I’ll have to close the doors.
- It’s a pity, you’re so good at it. – She said before leaving.
It all just made me sadder and sadder. After years of college, years of setting up and improving my clinic. I was mentally exhausted. I went to the pantry to drink a glass of water when the phone rang and the glass flew from my hands.
- Is it from the Patrícia Prado studio? A husky, deep male voice asked from the other side.
- Look, my lord, we’ve already received all the invoices, I swear I’ll pay next week.
- I’m not a collector. I heard from a friend that you have a great relaxing massage service. I need a massage at home.
- Sorry, sir, but we don’t do massage-
- I pay well. – He interrupted, his tone seemed urgent. – Sorry to be asking for this, but I am an important public figure and I can’t move to your studio. I need to draw the least attention.
I have a tension in my shoulder that is killing me, but if that is asking too much I can look for another clinic.
- No. No, sorry. It’s all right. It is that our professional who cares at home is sick. – I lied. – But I will personally attend you sir.
- Ah, thank you very much. You don’t know how much it relieves me. I just ask you to be discreet, I don’t want my managers or the public to think I’m not physically ready for the next show.
I got the contact phone number and your home address. I lived more than an hour away from the studio, but when he said the amount he was willing to pay I almost fell behind. That massage would save the studio that month and if I managed to make him our loyal client, maybe we could even go back to what we were before.
Exactly an hour and a half later I got out of the taxi in front of the big guy’s house. If that could be called home. It was at least the size to put a mall in there. I slammed the door and heard his voice telling the intercom that I could come and go.
I had never seen a property so beautiful that it wasn’t on TV. It had expensive furniture, glass walls that spout water and I swear I saw a brand new piano in the living room. I went to the room where he had indicated me and when I entered after knocking, I almost let out an involuntary cry.
- Ah, thank God you arrived. I was not holding myself in pain. – He said. He in this case being MC Marquinhos, one of the greatest funk singers today.
- I hope I’m not late. – I joked trying to hide the nervousness of being in front of a star that only the watch I was wearing was worth more than I could ever collect in life.
- Can we start? – He said, his voice hoarse. – Not that I don’t like your company, but I’m really in pain.
- Oh sure – I replied after touching me that I was standing admiring him with a silly face.
I unloaded my material in the room where he showed me, set up the stretcher, turned off the lights and raised the incense sticks. The air was filled with a smell of honey and cinnamon. I gave him a towel and asked him to take his clothes off in a nearby bathroom while he finished his preparations for the massage.
- Ready. – He said, giving me a start when he appeared at the door with only a towel around his waist. He was huge. Without a shirt I could see his big chest, his huge arms, the thighs that gave me two and that perfectly shaped six pack.
- You can lie down here. – Did I stuttered. – I’ll start. Close your eyes and try to relax as much as possible.
He did it. I took the almond oil and smeared my hands with it, spread it over his body starting at the shoulders that were very tense. His muscles were so hard that it hurt my hand so hard that I had to put it on.
- Does it hurt? – I asked apprehensively.
- The pain is passing as if it were magic. Your hands are good, has anyone told you that?
- Only a few times. – I joked.
I ran over his strong, rigid chest. I added a little more oil and massaged the sections of his abdomen. That done, the client needs to stretch and relax the legs as much as possible, so that we can rub the inner part of the thigh. And that’s what I did.
Massage is the practice of applying force on a muscle to stimulate blood circulation, which activates our parasympathetic system, which can cause our blood to flood the viscera including the sexual organ. So when I saw the huge volume growing under the towel, I already knew it was normal, but it wasn’t.
- Ah, I’m sorry! He tried to sit up, embarrassed when he realized he had a hard-on. I didn’t know where to stick my face. – I didn’t really notice, I didn’t want to.
- It’s all right. This is normal. – I explained to him everything how it worked and about the blood. – Don’t worry about it, I’m a professional.
- Even so, I apologize. I was really relaxed and ended up not feeling it. – He still wasn’t convinced.
- Lie down, please. And try to relax. – I put my hand on his shoulder and made him settle. – In massage it is necessary that the whole body relaxes completely. If one of its members is tense, the effects may be contrary. So I need to make you relax completely, don’t be alarmed. I will make you ejaculate and then your body will be able to return to the state of complete relaxation.
- No need, seriously. – He tried to protest. – It’s just not that easy, you know, making me come.
- You can leave it to me, Mr. Marcos. I know exactly what I’m doing. I’m professional. – I said, taking some oil and rubbing it in my hands. So I took the towel off his lap and was startled by the size of that man’s cock. It was big and thick, colossal in fact. Almost the size of my forearm. Full of veins and a very wide black head. – I think I better get more oil.
He settled down and closed his eyes. I opened the jar with oil and dropped it over that huge mast. I had to spend all the small container I had taken. Then rubbing my hands together to get warm I held the base and smoothed the length of the stick with the other hand, going up and down very slowly but at a steady pace.