Scott Dixon

I saw him once about two years ago. Please PM me with an update of how he is now.

No, but he's been on MF ever since I joined, and with the same pictures. I've been curious about him.

I point my penis downward. (A) It's more comfortable for me that way; and (B) it's more available to my masseur. Plus, I tend to precum readily, and the downward point allows a clear observation of that for my masseur. On the occasions that I have been the masseur, I've taken it as a compliment of my handiwork when my recipient has released this little appetizer.

In my experience, this can vary widely among masseurs. I generally ask them for THEIR definitions during the pre-massage communications.

Oh, God, yes! The dancers, too.

Don't turn your client into your therapist. I've had more than a handful of masseurs, after I have been going to them for a while, start to overshare about their life problems: money, sex, health, love, family. I'm sorry. It isn't because I don't care, but I am on your table to receive therapy, not give it.

One big turnoff for me, which has backfired every time, is the sudden, late-night text message practically begging me to purchase a package of X number of massages. Obviously, Mr. Masseur is having a cash-flow problem and has gotten himself into a financial bind of some sort, and my bleeding-heart liberal self is fool enough to fall for this and bails him out. What I get in return for my wad of cash is a series of increasingly lackluster massage sessions that eventually feel so boring that I don't even bother to redeem my last one or two.

I've been to him. Check your inbox!

I enjoyed that video; however, I don't see how the title applies.

I haven't put a lot of stock in MF, except for basic contact information for initial communication and possible engagement, since the site stopped allowing us to post reviews, along with all the other depravities mentioned here. I'm noticing more and more cross-referencing with RM. I hope it doesn't succumb to ruination as well.

Having lived in Dallas previously and now Houston, I had never even heard of King Spa. So yesterday, I went to the one here in Houston, had a 90-minute massage with a male therapist, and then enjoyed the steam room, sauna, and in-ground hot tub for a while. If you are interested in details, please ask.

This one makes my motor run! I'd love to see the whole video: https://www.xvideos.com/video45432299/erotic_massage

I hear you! And it isn't new. I lived there for the entirety of the 1990s and that's how it was then, too. Last fall, I traveled there twice on business and never succeeded in having a massage. No shows, cancellations, and flaking out during preliminary correspondence. WTH?

I don't know of any.

What le whore said, exactly.

What le whore said, exactly.

I've lived in Houston for almost eight years now. My work as a freelance writer-editor takes me all over the city. If I were visiting here, I'd choose a hotel downtown. There are many nice choices, downtown Houston is quite vibrant, and the central location will appeal to your escorts. FYI, curbside parking is free downtown after 6:00 p.m. and is inexpensive other times of the day.

Yes. I will send you a private message.

Hi there. I live in Houston and travel to Austin on occasion. I just looked at Austin MF and RM and don't see any that I've hired in the past. Caveat: Please be aware that a lot of the RM ones are cross-listed in Houston. There's a three- to four-hour driving distance between the two cities, depending on route, traffic, and part of the city.

I went to Collin about three years ago. I'll send you a private message with my impressions.

I've been receiving (and sometimes giving) massages for almost 30 years in cities all over the US and Mexico, using many masseurs multiple times, and I think my biggest peeve is when the masseur, after I have been to him a few times, senses my empathetic nature and starts to see me as HIS therapist. My most recent experiences of this have been in Houston, where I have lived for almost 8 years. After seeing one initially great masseur twice a month for nearly two years, I just had to stop when I realized that I knew more about him than he knew about me--and it was not knowledge that made me feel good about him. He talked nonstop from the moment I entered his apartment--all about him and his problems--just going through the motions of the massage. He would not take any signals from me, verbal or otherwise. One day while prattling on, he mentioned that sometimes clients just stopped coming to him, and that he never asked why. I missed my chance, because I was beginning to see why. Perhaps I could have made a difference for him, but I didn't say anything. I just quit like the others. I currently have been seeing another masseur who is behaving the same way. An interesting parallel is that both of these guys asked me to purchase package deals from them when they were having cash-flow problems. I fell for that. I have two remaining pre-paid massages with one of them and I am not beating a path to his door to redeem them. Sadly, the massage itself is great, but I just cannot stand the sound of his voice anymore.

That site has become so weird.

Damn!

Disclaimer: The experience I'm about to describe never resulted in a massage! I was new to Houston, didn't know about this forum, had had only one massage from a guy on MF, and woke up one morning determined to have a massage that day. VERY early, I started scanning Craigslist. There was an enticing photograph of a young, slim, muscular guy, face excluded, with an equally enticing, albeit brief, description of his services. The price was right (a dollar a minute) and he wasn't far away. He listed his hours as "anytime," so I texted him. He responded quickly, identified himself as Matthew, and we landed on 10:30 a.m. for our appointment at his studio. I asked for an hour, with the option to extend the time if all was going well (which I typically do for a first visit, if the masseur is amenable). He texted his address. All this occurred about 7:00 a.m. I arrived at his very nice mid-rise apartment complex and there was a gate, which he had not mentioned. As I was about to text him for the code, up pulled a FedEx truck, so I just followed it through. Found his building, climbed to the top floor (there might've been an elevator, but I didn't see it), and at precisely 10:25, I knocked on the door. No answer. No footsteps. I texted him. No answer. I knocked again. Nothing. Texted again. Nothing. I know, I know: I should've just left, but after this long, I was curious. Knocked one more time, LOUDLY, and soon heard footsteps and the door hardware rattling from the inside. He opened the door, YAWNING and rubbing his eyes, foul breath emanating from his wide-open mouth. "Aw, man, what time is it?" "It's after 10:30," I replied. "Aw, man, I'm sorry, I musta fell asleep on the couch. I had a rough night. Come on in." His hair was a mess and he was wearing only long gym pants; his upper body was totally ripped, though, which, along with the positively ELEGANT apartment, was the only reason I stepped farther into his home. "Right this way," he said, leading me into a small room that contained a massage table with no sheets, a futon made up as a bed, and a computer desk, on which sat an open laptop. Matthew sat down at the desk and began noodling on the laptop. He said, "Let me find us some music. What kinda music you like, man?" "Oh, anything like you might here in a spa, or jazz, or classical. Something instrumental." More noodling. He eventually landed on something okay and I said that would be fine. Then he moved over to the futon and stretched out. "Man, I've got the WORST breath! I had garlic last night. I ain't even had time to brush my teeth this morning. You need the bathroom?" I said no, and then he went across the hall to brush his teeth, thank God! "Go ahead and get undressed and we'll start out face down," he said through a mouth full of toothpaste. When he emerged, he was wearing short gym pants, and his nice hairy legs showed. He sat at the computer and watched me as I finished undressing and laid on the table. I laid there on the bare leather massage table with my face in the cradle for what seemed like 10 minutes while I heard him typing on the computer. Just as I raised my head to say something, he got up and came around behind me. He put one hand on each heel and put my feet together. "Well, you're symmetrical," he said. I replied, "And that's a good thing, I take it?" No response. He moved each hand up to the backs of my calves and squeezed them. Then he abruptly came up to my right shoulder, rubbed it a little bit, and said, "Man, I'm sorry, but we're all out of time." I jumped up from there and got dressed faster than I ever have during a backstage costume change as he said, "Next time, it'll be $20 off. Just text me. My name's Matthew." I said, "Okay, well that's nice of you, but I asked for an hour today and I've been here less than 30 minutes, so here's a 20." I handed him the $20 and he grinned like a Cheshire cat. "Aw, thanks, man." He laid back down on the futon and I showed myself out. Worst massage ever? Actually, there was no massage. Definitely in my top five weirdest experiences.

I've not been to him, but have exchanged a few of those STRAIGHTFORWARD texts with him. The timing just hasn't worked out. He is reviewed on other sites as "Cowboy Steve" and there are many enticing photos.