<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/plusone.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d5749618\x26blogName\x3dOpinions+and+Adventures+in+Sex+and+Re...\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dBLUE\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttps://sigmundfuller.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_US\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttps://sigmundfuller.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d3216843550540000939', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>

Sunday, August 08, 2004

Asia, an Afternoon in Hell

Hell is a hot place. But in some religions it is also a place full of temptation.

In the midst of unresolved fantasy relationships, relationship contemplation and mistress seeking, I took another trip to Asia. It might sound like a distraction to these other goals, and of course it was, but the primary purpose of the trip was business.

I have posted on a few previous Asia trips. This post and its continuation is only about the first half of the trip, because the second half will be quite dull. Mostly I'll be catching up on my blogging!

It was my intention to be "good," and not to be tempted into excessively prurient adventures. I knew my moral intentions were to take a beating, since I was meeting at least twice with the same person who had taken me out in Korea previously, and for whom I had arranged a reciprocal experience in Las Vegas. Since I am certain to have future interactions with him, I'll bother to name him: "Park."

After a week or so of pretty tame business meetings, the first meeting with my Park coming up. I had tried some things to minimize the likelihood I would be distracted (I spent some time contemplating the anniversary of Little Boy dropping on Hiroshima) but he was quite determined to show me a good time. After a business meeting together with some of his staff, we went out to a spa (unisex) and got polished up. An excellent meal followed, basically a very late lunch with just the two of us. Then we went to an interesting massage place.

Now calling this establishment a "massage place" is like calling the Taj Mahal a "big residence." I now see that Asian massage parlors in the US and even in Asia are merely false shadows of places like these.

Our previous experiences had been, as I had described, group encounters with a bunch of women. I had conceded that the menage a trois experience in Asia was far superior to that in America, and that the kieseng or geisha were more artistically creative than most American providers. So Park boasted that I should experience a top sensuous one-on-one experience to complete the sweep. In other words, try out what one skilled woman could do. He told me it was not just about sexual skill alone, but a holistic experience that I should have.

He was a born salesman, it was an offer difficult to refuse.

Park called the establishment from a hotel lobby to make sure everything was set, and then we went to a very discreet winding narrow roadway. I am pretty sure I couldn't find it again if my life depended upon it. We walked into a guard-controlled garage-like structure (with no cars in it) and into a doorway hidden in a corner. A tiny but inviting lobby was at the end of some stairs, where a man took our shoes. Two attractive women escorted us to an elevator, and took me first to a spacious room. My friend then left with the other woman, after explaining to her that I was a rock star from Hong Kong. The woman remaining with me instructed me to settle in, and drew a bath and dimmed the lights.

I need to describe this room. It was about the size of a good hotel suite but with no windows. There were several rooms attached together, with no doors between them. The rooms were on slightly different levels and had frosted glass and wood Asian-style partitions dividing them. It had a very relaxing layout with some strategic mirrors that reflected views into the other rooms.

There was one room that was similar to a dressing room, with a sitting area, desk, mirror, and an impressive array of products, and a decent sized refrigerator. And a complex office-style phone and Internet connection.

There was another room like a cross between a bedroom and a living room. It had with a futon-like bed that could raise and lower, and small Western-style love seat in front of a nice flat screen television. Another refrigerator and phone was in this room, along with a bar.

A third room was sort of a spa. It had a raised wood slat floor, a small steam room, a wood sauna room, a very deep and very cool looking stone jacuzzi tub, a large open shower with several nozzles and chair like seating area, and a set of massage-table like mats the size of a double bed, but on the floor. There was also a small bathroom, which was the only room with a door.

The bath was drawn in the stone tub. I entered the bath. My thoughts were this was a upscale Asian massage parlor type of experience and I was thinking of several ways to beg off the release part of the massage. I wasn't really in the mood anyhow, and since most all of the time I don't get a release, why take the frustration? While pondering this, several minutes went by, and I was quite relaxed, eyes closed, really almost asleep. I then felt soft hands caressing my face. I opened my eyes and found a woman had come behind me on the tub, and was massaging my face gently from behind. I looked upwards but couldn't see her clearly, and the wrinkling of my brow from looking upwards seemed to be way too much effort against the soothing caresses.

There was an interesting thing where the woman would be breathing in my hair, and running her lips over parts of my forehead and temples. Two body-warm lotions were applied to my face and massaged in, and then, I think cucumbers! were put over my eyes. While I was so masked and unable to see, the now-invisible hands moved down to my feet and washed them. Some kisses and breathing down there also, strangely soothing and yet a little exciting. Some kind of warm oil or lotion was applied to my feet and they were massaged. Between this and the heat of the water I thought I was going to pass out in the tub. Then my hands were similarly cared for with her hands, breath, and lips, and some lotion.

I have never been a massage and spa person. I have tried some of the best places in the world, the ones that show up in Conde Nast style magazines. Not my thing. So much not my thing that I would send girlfriends to the spa and I'd spend the day on the computer or reading. But this was pretty good. Less clinical and more personal.

Then the woman removed the cucumbers and applied something else to my face. She then slipped into the tub with me, and I could finally see her.

She was breathtaking. And I mean that literally: my breath was taken from me for a moment as I regarded her. Her face was like a perfectly drawn anime character, with large eyes, cheekbones, perfect lips, and beautiful skin. My staring seemed to embarass her, and she looked away shyly. Acting or not, it was quite attractive and effective. She leaned forward and hugged me, and then did an interesting move that kind of flipped me around head to toe and started to wash my hair. She would kind of touch me lightly underwater from time to time, massaged my head, breathed in my ear, and generally gave me the most sensual hair washing I've ever had.

I was then hoisted out of the tub and onto the mats on the floor, which fortunately had been warmed by water, and given a body wash. Unlike some Asian massage parlor body washes, she did not soap herself and wash me with her body. It was a classier and more personal experience where we kind of cuddled on this huge mat and she just got me clean and rinsed, and seemed to get herself clean at the same time. It was also very sensual, and a new experience for me.

The woman, let's call her May, then dried me off with a few very soft and pre-warmed towels.

Now let me take a moment here and talk about May's amazing attitude during this entire experience: intimate, happy, attentive, and even fun. She seemed entirely comfortable with her body, my body, the situation, very much like an intimate girlfriend with an oddly-attractive mixture of uninhibited, sex positive boldness and an inhibited girl-like shyness -- not a laughing behind her hand kind of shyness -- she was very outgoing and friendly. She also had been mixing in language lessons as we were going and had found my tolerance level for being made fun of. But unlike a girlfriend, or even the so-called "girlfriend experience" discussed about sex providers in the US, she was unbelievably focused on me. Maybe a licensed massage therapist girlfriend is like this, but it was really kind of amazing.

I was then led into the bedroom where I was fed cold fruit and a drink with a straw. My hair was massaged, combed and brushed by this nude woman climbing over me. The closest thing I can compare it to is getting a hair style, a lapdance, and a houris feeding you fruit at the same time. But it wasn't sleazy, we were having uninhibited fun.

May definitely knew her visual assets. From time to time she would also touch me in ways that really were effective in calming or exciting me. In hindsight I feel that she deliberately mapped my physical and visual responses out. She played me like a composition, and started to lead us toward a sexual encounter.

And I tried to resist. Ok, maybe it was feeble, token resistance, but it was deliberate nonetheless.

She detected this, and seemed to find it amusing. In our broken communication she said she understood what I wanted (I had said nothing), and she told me I needed a break. She turned on the TV to soccer, put on a robe, and left me to my drink. I took the opportunity to use the bathroom.

The breather was helpful to normalize myself. She really had taken me on a sensuous path from the face massage to the hair brushing; really an amazing journey. I was feeling delicate but vibrating, like I was a glass bell rung lightly by a hammer.

A few minutes later May returned. She had changed into a kind of nightshirt, and brought a pajama bottom for me. She curled up in the love seat, turned off the television, and started talking with me. I was a little taken aback at the change of pace, but she was very sweet and so very beautiful, so it was hardly difficult to talk with her. Watching her lips and eyes alone was a treat. We mostly talked about cultural changes in Korea, and Korean and Chinese comparative art and literature in the disputed Goguryo period, which was an area of mutual interest. Although completely non-technical, she had an artistic bent and even jumped up at one point to draw me. During the conversation, she was still very intimate, like we were lovers, touching me, leaning against me, smiling a lot, even bopping me on the arm or legs a few times.

It was almost surreal. I found her looks mesmerizing and started to spend more and more time really looking at her. Her body language was very attractive. Her conversation started to turn to her dreams. Not sexual fantasies, but dreams of success and her road to them. And she started to talk about me as well, and we talked about my successes and failures. Remember that my language skills are not that good, so the conversation was stilted and full of errors, but in hindsight I see that she was weaving me into the story, making me a part of it. And then, unbelievably, I started to get really turned on in a kind of emotional way. There was this weird upswelling of care and tenderness that started to fill me up, and about that time her touches were caresses, and her face and body language changed subtly, and then I was really turned on sexually. It was the damned strangest thing I had ever felt, it was as if my body was connected to hers, and unconsciously it was responding to her at a level I could not detect. Almost as if we had built some kind of resonance that she was taking advantage of to create responses in me.

She pressed herself against me, using submissive yet intentional noises and words that inflamed me even more. She found some place on my leg that she would stroke, and my entire leg would twitch. She had some other places on my chest, side and arm that had similar effect on other parts of my body. She would do this while pressing my back, chest, head to her bosom, kissing or licking, and the whole effect was galvanizing. I can't even recall everything because at some point I really lost control over myself.

Losing control for me is very rare. I don't like it, and it may be the root of several issues I have. But May, this submissive young thing, somehow wrested control from me while appearing submissive the entire time. May herself was also very responsive, or at least could fake that well. Everything seemed like a duet, even though I was putting almost no effort into it.

She had me twitching everywhere, to the point where she could elicit a response from me with a single fingertip. I was in a continuous state of ecstatic epilepsy. I still remember her hovering over me, her hair falling to one side of her pretty face, her dark eyes looking at me adoringly, touching me and herself until I thought I go insane.

So she played me. She brought me to the edge several times several different ways, with her hands, lips, and riding me. This was the first time somebody has been able to do that for me multiple ways. The entire time this was happening, she was not at all dominant. She just seemed focused on my pleasure, using intimate honorifics that are difficult to explain in English, but that were submissive and oddly sexy.

Finally she let me get across the finish line. While I crossed, she touched me in some ways that literally had me writhing uncontrollably and maybe even screaming (I confess I can't remember), and she modulated the post-orgasm in a way that made me think she was a true empath.

Then she cuddled up with me.

A little while later, and after it was clear to her that there was no way I was going for another round, she did a light massage that was very energizing, and we did an interesting hot and cold shower that was also invigorating. She continued to be intimate and playful, all the way through dressing me, continuing with the language lessons. In fact, she started to get a response from me again, but again, there was no way we were going to finish that... especially since we had already spent nearly five hours together.

I told her I had never felt anything quite like that. She said she liked me. She guessed my age low. She flattered me. She cut me some fruit. Again, it was unclear how much is acting and how much was real, but given her reputation, I guessed a lot of it was her skill. Then we had a curious conversation that I'll come back to later.

My encounter had taken five hours. Park had gone after two hours and had left his number to call when I was done. May escorted me to the elevator, kissed and hugged me, and handed me off to the hostess, who took me down where I retrieved my freshly cleaned shoes and met my friend.

Afterwards I asked Park how the setup worked. The girls live at the location, which is like a hotel, and train there. In some places, especially abroad, they can be almost like indentured servants, working off their living debt. In high end places like this one, they are not in order to attract and keep the best talent, but in all cases, the girls do pay rent.

In many massage parlors, the girls are failed bar hostesses, in that they are unable to or unwilling to drink (I will write more about the bar girls in Evening in Hell post next). Like the bar girls, massage girls can get a public following, and there are Internet sites that rate them. Surprisingly far fewer girls advertise on the Internet in Korea than in the US, it's really driven by men's rating sites. The good women come to places with good reputations, where the clientele is higher class. In such places, girls are recruited or come with referrals. Girls at top places are not rated, since the male clientele doesn't do that (and know each other). According to my friend, they also make less money than the lower class places, but have a better and more relaxed lifestyle.

The key factor for top places, such as the one we had visited, is a long history which leads to proprietary training, very exclusive customers, and nicer facilities. This isn't a shared shower and mat on the floor kind of place. Girls at a top place would see between two and ten customers per week, depending on her schedule. As I noted in my prior post training from girl to girl is key, and good customers, such as Park, can access and help train the new talent. He had never experienced May, but the madam had recommended her for me. May was considered new talent, but the madam thought she was among the best she had ever trained for such a young woman (I'm guessing May was about 23 and had been trained since 18.)

My friend also mentioned that they had lots of fantasy role playing offered as well, with an impressive array of choices, from authentic airline stewardess uniforms to dressage outfits.

Let me get back to the parting conversation I had with May.

After she had told me how much she liked me, she asked me how often I came to Korea. I told her I visited several times a year. She knew from earlier conversation that I was from the US (either she was not told, or had known it was a joke that I was a Hong Kong rocker). I asked her if she had visited the US, and she said she had never but thought it would be great to do so. In fact, she hoped to visit next year because she had a relative in the mid-west. I told her I recommended the west or east coast over the mid-west, and we talked about that for a few minutes. Then, out of the blue, she asked me if I was married. Then she gave me her handphone number, in Korea the equivalent of an email address, and coquettishly asked me to give her a call while I was in Korea so we could meet for lunch or something.

Hmm. I told her that I was leaving in a few days but I wondered why she would do this. Gold digging or genuine interest? Since there is clearly no future in it, it has an intrigue factor...

But this is only the Afternoon in Hell, and evening awaits. So, really quite drained, but with a spring in my step, Park and I went to his private club to drink and sing.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

Man if this is for real you got go live there. No white chick will do that for you!!!! Reading this fuck I'll marry her!!


8/09/2004 7:42 AM  
Anonymous So said...

This is my favorite anecdote of a man's pleasure for hire. I have been looking for this post since I read it three years ago. May is such perfection.

10/08/2007 11:00 PM  

Post a Comment

Links to this post:

Create a Link

<< Home