Normally, before I start to write a post, I have the title all picked out. Today however, so many possibilities:
- Remember when your mother told you not to go out without clean underwear?
- Uncovered at 61
- My First Time
- Oil, Oil, Toil and Trouble
- Step two to Ladyboyhood
- Golfer’s Massage
However, as you can see, I went with Bird. Meet Bird.
Today, after a morning of wandering and touring, Terry went off for a pedicure/shoulder massage and I came back to the hotel. We met at 3:45 at the bar across the street for a drink. Me: “How was your massage?” Terry: “Very different from last night – much less gentle. Did last night (Ed. note: Thai massage) do anything for you?” Me: “Not too much, although my feet feel much better” Terry: “Well, maybe if you had a less gentle massage, you might be able to turn better tomorrow on the golf course.” Me: (after 0ne 16 ounce beer and effectively nothing to eat since 10:00) “Sure let’s see what they say.”
So we wander down the street to “Le Best Massage” and see that they advertise a “Golfer’s Massage” – 1 hour for 400 baht ($12) and in we go. The woman who did Terry was not available so after about a five minute discussion, (I’m not sure if they thought they had anybody who could do one) it is Bird who is anointed to welcome me into this world. He tells me to follow him upstairs to the third floor – there is no one else on the floor when we get there. We go into a little room, he closes the door and puts down a tunic and pants on the second bed/table and tells me to change. I go over to get the tunic etc. and he says no – take off clothes. (Is it now I should start to panic?) I take off my shirt and shorts, modestly leaving on the boxer shorts, and climb up on the bed.
Bird covers me with a sheet from the waist down (Ahh, I think) and starts to apply oil to my back and shoulders and working it in. Now, my back is not in good shape and as he works it in, he is getting reflexes and ohs, oohs etc. “Pain?” he says. “Yes,” I say, “but keep going.” which he does. It’s not too bad, I’m thinking. After about 15 minutes, he has done my shoulders, back and arms. He uses his fingers, forearms, elbows and fists when he is working on you. Good stuff. Then he reaches down under the sheet and pushes my boxers down, applying oil to my buttocks. Still, not too panicky until I feel him pushing my legs apart at the end of the table and climbing up between my legs. (No panic, just very very mild unease – after all, I have never had a man between my legs, with oil applied to my butt.) He sits astride me just on my thighs and continues to work on my back and butt, gently rocking back and forth. I didn’t realize there are so many painful areas in the butt. It didn’t help either that he was beginning to breathe a little heavily, due to how hard he had to work. Then he starts working with his hands and elbows on my thighs, and calves. I am so thankful I had on clean underwear! After 15 minutes of this, he tells me to roll over.
He removes the boxers completely, but maintains the sheet over my uh – area – and the leg he isn’t working on. However, by the time he has finished both legs I would say that there are now three people (Terry, Bird and I) who have an intimate, but appropriate knowledge of my uh – area. When he finishes with both legs, he ensures I’m covered up and starts working with his elbows all the way up my lower body to the “groinal” area. Remember when I said Terry and I had been at the bar and I had a 16 ounce beer? Well, when I walked through the front door, I thought that maybe I should use the facilities but then “Oh, it’s only going to be an hour” Now I’m thinking, please don’t press any harder!!
Are we finished now? No. Bird ensures that the sheet now covers me completely from the waist down and climbs on to the table, sitting astride me and starts working the oil into my chest and shoulders from the front. I am keeping my eyes firmly closed although by now I no longer care what he does. Then he has me sit up at the end of the table and starts doing work on my back – pushing, pulling, stretching, etc.. Now he isn’t a big man, but his weight certainly “weighs” one down. Finally – he says “Finished”. With no modesty whatsoever, I jump up from the table, chat briefly, put my clothes on, rush downstairs, pay the bill, whip over to the ATM and take his tip back. If we were to be staying here much longer, I would go back every night. I feel great.
Plus, having a man sit astride me with no reaction whatsoever, reinforces that “I no Ladyboy“. (I think).