MisterMike

I wonder if they do 4-hand together. I could get into that.

She's a meth. I mean mess. No. I actually mean meth.

Meaning?

I get people inboxing for info, but honestly I feel like I'm doing a disservice to both that person and the masseur because each encounter is so highly personal. What happened with me may not happen with you. I love the phrase YMMV, but really it's YMWV your mileage WILL vary, unless he's a massage-bot.

Pretty sure you know you should cancel and are just looking to be talked out of it. If it feels wrong, it's probably wrong.

I understand legit versus non-legit... but I've never had a massage that didn't include turning over so the masseur could work on my shoulders/pecs/front of my legs.

They don't appear to be working, bud.

*BUMP*

Tell us ... EVERYTHING!

Sort of based on the specific market, no?

Interesting. I might be down to give it a shot.

Because "renting" a man definitely doesn't involve sex. LOLOLOLOLOL

My worst massage ever was done by a guy who has been discussed in the forums here, and while I fortunately was not treated to "aromatherapy" (truly vile story), it was terrible in several of the ways mentioned in other posts, and a few different ways. To start, the guy lives at the back of a large apartment complex, and it seems that on this particular day- every single one of his neighbors was out and about in the courtyard area. To avoid seeming totally awkward I said hello politely as I made my way through the common area, this caused him to scold me as soon as we were in his apartment. "MY NEIGHBORS DON'T KNOW I DO MASSAGES!". Whoa, dude. I just said hello to a couple old ladies. To get to his "studio" you have to pass through a few other rooms of the apartment. While it was the middle of the day seemingly every curtain was drawn, all the lights were off, and my eyes had not fully adjusted so it was a little like being in a haunted maze. What I could not miss was the smell. (On my way out with my eyes more used to the dark I could see the reason was piles of clothes on the floor in the hallway, and unclean dishes piled in the sink, on the counter, and on the table.) The massage itself was TERRIBLE. (This is where I suspect a few of you will know exactly which masseur I am talking about if you haven't already guessed.) He used a heavily perfumed lotion, and way too much of it. The lotion was ice cold, squeezed right out of the bottle, including the little farting noise an almost empty bottle of lotion makes. It felt like he was barely touching me, sort of a cold, wet fish flopping around on my back. He was nude and kept putting his more than ample cock into my hand as I was face down, but he would squirt gobs of this grandmotherly lotion in my hand before doing that. It was something akin to trying to grab an eel. Throughout the massage his phone kept getting text messages which would interrupt the music. He apologized, but said he couldn't turn it off because of the "massage cream" on his hands. When we finally got to me flipping over I was able to see the "massage cream" was dollar store lotion (April Bath - compare to Bath & Body Works!) and he had a few back-up bottles, he was just trying to really get every drop out of the current one, so there was an elaborate pattern of shaking the bottle, squeezing it until it sputtered out freezing cold goop on me, repeat, repeat, repeat. While I was facing upwards he stayed pretty far away from the table so I wouldn't be able to touch his dick. Nevertheless I was hard (I almost always am) and though he commented on my size, he avoided going anywhere near my cock until the last minute of the massage when he tried to rather robotically speed-pump a load out of me, while keeping his eyes closed and his body far from the table. I told him it was all good and I would finish myself off at home. When I asked for a towel to try to get some of the thick layer of goop off of my skin he provided a roll of paper towels. As I was getting dressed he tried to make cheery chit-chat, I guess in the hopes of earning a tip. I literally could not get dressed fast enough. I left him the money and he walked me out, but not before warning me not to talk to his neighbors. He followed up with a text about 30 minutes later saying he was "so happy" to meet me and looked forward to our next session. No thanks, man. I'm all good.

I aim to please.

I need to give Anthony a shot already.

Mmmmmm fucking hot.

I find this thread useless without us specifically roasting the naughty masseur at fault.

Oh? Do tell.

No need to dream- he's ended each massage session by climbing on my dick.

*BUMP* always looking for a great rub in the SFV

Hot little fucker.

Does an "authentic" str8 guy get converted to "authentic" bi guy once he has sex with a dude, or downgraded to "inauthentic" str8 guy?

It's been too long since Vic's ass got any attention from us.

It's because he fixed it. See? I do good deeds.

Don't go away mad, sister. Just go away.