Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Last night I waaaaaay over did it. I was a really really really bad girl. After the depressing week I had, me and some of my girlfriends decided to just go out and really blow off some steam. We started off the evening innocently enough with our beers and wines; eventually shifted to cosmo's and flirtini's, and then ended the evening with shots of Jager.
Have you ever ended an evening with Jager? I think selling Jager after 11pm should be considered a form of assisted suicide and be outlawed in this state. Needless to say, I was a hurting puppy this morning.
And I had to work.
Ever have one of those hangovers where you wake up and the room is still spinning? Then you realize that you're actually still slightly drunk? It was like that. I staggered into the bathroom only to discover that those horrible dreams I had about throwing up in, out, around and all over the toilet were in fact not dreams.
I forced myself to take a shower, but even afterwards I still looked like Death warmed over. It was so bad that I actually put makeup on. I NEVER wear makeup to work. Then I just threw on sweats and a hoodie (fuck Audrey if she complains) and poured myself into the car.
The extra strong coffee at Burger King with greasy breakfast sandwich didn't help things either. By the time I got to work, I was ready to just curl up and die. That's when I got the message on the answering machine that Audrey wasn't coming in.
The good news was that she wouldn't see me in this state. The bad news was that I was on my own and couldn't pawn off the first customer on someone else while I slept this hangover off in the back.
Luckily, my first customer of the day was a Regular I really like. We'll call him Mark - A nice middle age guy who takes the occasional mutual and never asks for anything weird. I was like "Thank Gawd it's you. I don't think I could have handled a therapeutic this morning!"
Mark was being understanding so I told him "Look - do you mind if you just do me today? I just want to lie here and not move." Yes I actually said that. Looking back today, that was pretty shitty of me to do that to him. So I got undressed (with much effort) and crawled (with much more effort) onto the table and let Mark massage me.
I swear to Gawd that was the best massage ever. That man should be freakin' sainted for what he did. I just lied there on my stomach and Mark gave me an absolutely wonderful massage. Even did my feet. He only paid for a 30 minute session, but I totally ingored the clock since it was ME on the table (benefit of the job).
He asked if I wanted to flip over, but I was totally limp at that point and didn't want to move. So I told him to just keep going. He did my back a second time, but when he finished he asked what I wanted to do about the happy ending. Oh crap, I thought that would require movement on my part.
Or would it...?
"Mark - you did such a great job I really don't want to move. Can you think of something that doesn't require me to do anything?"
Let me just stop right here and say that I am normally not such a bad masseuse and this story does not reflect my professional work ethics. I was in such a bad way, and I DID manage to drag my hungover ass to work. So at least give me credit for that.
Mark is not an adventurous guy, so he didn't know what to do. I told him he could do an ass release if he wanted. THAT wouldn't require me to even use my hands! Unfortunately, he's not exactly a very physical kind of guy so the idea of dry humping me on the table didn't appeal to him.
I thought of a compromise and told him to grab a bottle of oil and come over to the front of the table. He took a bottle from the warmer and stood in front of me. I was still on my stomach and my head was turned to the side with both arms up over my head. I opened my left hand and told him to oil it up real good. He squeezed some warm oil over my open palm. I squished it around in my fist a few times then I placed my hand at the edge of the table.
"Give me your dick" I ordered. Mark looked confused, but he stepped up to the table and put his slightly limp penis in my left hand. I closed my hand gently on him and then worked the oil onto the shaft. When he started to get hard, I just wrapped my fingers around his prick and said "Fuck my hand."
He seemed happy enough to obey, so he started to go at it right there. Luckily the height of the table was more or less good for him to stand and just move back and forth - pumping my fist with his cock. My head was turned to the side so I had a nice ring side seat to the action.
Now I've said it before and I'll say it again - I enjoy watching a cock shooting cum. It's just proof of a job well done. Well, Mark was no exception. So when he came, I just made sure I aimed him just right so he shot his load right in front of my nose, and on to my left shoulder. It puddled nicely on the table.
Mark almost fell over. He said he can't remember the last time he came while standing up. I'm glad I was there to help expand his horizons!
After he left, I collapsed in front of the TV in back and slept for about an hour. I was woken up by the phone, but at least I felt slightly better. Luckily I didn't have another customer till later in the day - when I had sobered up a bit.
So there you have it - confessions of the worlds laziest masseuse. Please don't judge me!