Now... Just Relax

In honor of VD, let's eschew the chocolates-roses-teddy-bears-bullshit and cut to the part where we take our clothes off. Hold up -- before you start struggling with that jimmy wrapper, why don't you make y'self useful and heat up this oil. I promise you we'll end up in the same position(s), but my route is a helluva lot more scenic.

As the pic above suggests, there is indeed a joy most apparent in erotic massage. And I also find that even a good old-fashioned professional massage (happy ending may not be included) with a strong, damn good-looking member of the opposite sex can be a downright religious experience. I went in for a "Sports Massage" and came out a new woman. This guy was hot, muscular, and very dedicated to his craft. He insisted that my glutes needed work. I enthusiastically agreed with his diagnosis. He also thought my quads and thighs were too tight. I graciously permitted him to ravage me, I mean work out the knots, as best he could. I briefly considered having him give me my monthly breast exam but then recalled it might be illegal in this state, and he had mentioned something about a girlfriend. Lucky bitch.

One caveat: whatever your sexual orientation, it's a total buzzkill to get someone who's not on your same wavelength. My friend, inspired by my born-again experience, went and requested a male masseur. Much to her chagrin, her partner on the road to physical bliss preferred boys to girls, and it showed in his work. "He barely touched me!" She told me afterwards. "It was like being at the doctor's office." Something to keep in mind when booking your next trip to Erotic City.