Mr. Slippers Gets A Massage

I thought It was time to treat myself to another massage, and I found a new Asian massage parlor on the internet. I called and made an appointment for 7:30. I arrived there at 7:25. It was actually in an old office building, which I was surprised stayed open that late. But the front door was unlocked and in I went. There were a few people milling around in the lobby and hall, and a couple of them looked at me like I was odd. But wearing slippers for all my erotic pursuits, I’d seen those looks plenty of times before.

I walked up the stairs and walked down the hall until I found suite 210. There it was: “Asian Acupressure Inc.” The door was locked, so I rang the bell. Within a few seconds, an older Asian woman with an angry face opened the door and let me in. I tried to say hello, but she just barked at me to have a seat. I told her I had made an appointment, but she ignored me and scurried away. As I sat and waited I saw the figures of several girls going from room to room. I kept getting up to try to see them, but I could never get a good look.

After eleven minutes that seemed like a eternity, the manager lady came and basically marched me to my room. I asked her who would give me my massage, and she paused and looked at me with disgust, before calling out something in her language. In walked a very hot Asian girl in her early twenties. Her hair was dyed a vibrant red, matching her lipstick. She stood about 5’5″ in her black patent leather heels, and those heels had to be at least five inches high. Her breasts were large and fake and were showcased nicely in a tight black tunic. Her leather leggings, which encased her shapely legs, were black as well.  I nodded my approval, and the manager sent her off. I reached for my wallet to pay the manager, and she said “Seventy dollar.”

“But the internet said sixty,” I objected.

“Internet wrong,” she said, giving me a sour look. “Seventy dollar.”

I knew that was unfair, but I wasn’t going to pass on this opportunity. I also wasn’t going to argue, as I thought it might make the masseuse uncomfortable. So I paid her the $70, and the manager ordered me to undress as she walked out the door. I undressed and waited. And waited. And waited. Every time I heard the ladies’ voices in the hall, I was sure it was my masseuse coming for me. But each time I was disappointed. After about ten minutes, I put my clothes back on and walked into the hallway to try to find someone. As I turned the corner, I was met head on by the manager with an even angrier face than before.

“You go back in room. You can’t be here,” she scolded me.

“But I,” I began.

“Go. Go. Go,” she said pushing me back towards my room, and she didn’t stop pushing until I was in there and sitting on the table.

“You wait here,” she said angrily.

I could only get out “Yes, but” before she was gone.

And so I waited another ten minutes, which included the same excitement turning to disappointment each time I heard the voices in the hall. Then finally I heard and saw my doorknob turning. A big smile came to my face, as I waited for the hottie to enter…And there she was. Wow. She was just incredible. I was licking my lips in anticipation. She closed the door behind her, and we were all alone.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The hottie opened the door, and the manager was standing there, displeased. She told the hottie something in their language…and my hottie left. The manager turned to go as well, so I got up and said, “Umm, can-”

And the manager was gone. And so the waiting resumed. And so did the excitement and disappointment. Finally after another full ten minutes, the door was being opened again, and in came…the manager.

“Come on. You go table shower,” she told me.

“Ok, is my massage girl there?” I asked eagerly.

“No, she give you massage. I give table shower,” she replied.

“But I-”

“Go. Go. Go,” she demanded as she pushed me out the room and down the hall to the table shower.

Once there, she grabbed a sponge, which wasn’t all that soft, and scrubbed me like I was a grease-caked frying pan. Then she snapped at me to go back to my room…which I did.

After another ten minute wait, with the usual roller-coaster of emotions, the door knob turned and in came the hottie. I sighed with relief as I lay on the table and awaited the touch of a goddess. She started rubbing my back softly, and I prepared myself for her to increase the intensity after a short time…But it never happened. She basically just rubbed my back for five minutes and then told me to turn over. I did so.

“You want to leave happy?” she asked.

“Yes, but not yet,” I argued. “You only massaged me for like five minutes.”

“But your appointment was at 7:30. Now it’s 8:25,” she countered.

“Yes, but that’s–”

“Do you want to leave happy or not?” she said with a sigh, while rolling her eyes in exasperation.

“Yes. Yes I do,” I mumbled.

“One hundred dollars,” she said.

“One hundred dollars?!” I said in a shocked tone. “The going rate for a regular happy ending is no more than sixty. In a lot of places they just expect forty. I don’t–”

She turned and walked towards the door.

“Wait,” I said in such a desperate tone that it even surprised myself. “Ok, ok. I’ll give you $100.”

She turned back towards me and waited while I grabbed the cash. After giving it to her, I lay back on the table and prepared myself for some sweet release. My semi instantly turned into a full hard-on, when I saw her squirt the oil into her palm. She even smiled at me and brushed my hair back from my forehead, as she was about to begin.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

I lifted my head to see, as she walked over to the little night stand and picked up her phone. She looked at it and laughed loudly, and then started texting something, all while I kept my head up watching her. Then she quickly looked over at me, like she’d forgotten I was even there. In turn I quickly put my head down, inexplicably feeling like she’d caught me doing something wrong. She typed a little more and then came back towards me, looking at her phone the entire time. While she texted with one hand, she made a careless grab for my penis with her other and actually scratched it quite hard.


She immediately took her focus away from her phone, looked down at my dick, grabbed it, and started yanking it awkwardly. Then she just as quickly turned her focus back to her phone, just in time for another “buzz” (which again sent her into fits of laughter).

And so it went on for about three minutes. The texting, the laughing, and the yanking…until I finally got my release. Then without taking her eyes off her phone, she let go of me, grabbed herself a towel, and left the room. I sat up, wiped off my spunk, got dressed, slipped into my slippers and walked out behind her.

By the time I reached the hall, she was gone. As I passed the front desk on the way out, the manager was on the phone but looked up at me long enough to give me a scowl. I walked a few more steps and then turned around and walked back towards her briskly. She sat up in surprise, distractedly holding the phone away from her ear, as I approached. She actually looked scared, as she looked into my eyes and saw my determination. By the time I was a foot away from her, she looked like she’d seen a ghost. She flinched as I reached towards her and…took one of their business cards.

Her expression immediately reverted to one of disdain, and I smiled sheepishly before I turned and walked to the door.








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Mr. Slippers Gets A Massage, 3.9 out of 10 based on 8 ratings

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