Part 3 - Flame Meets Gasoline
Fate is bullshit. Destiny is a sham. Every hour is made up of discrete, unconnected moments, none of which has any direct connection to the last other than its proximate contiguity. This is not to say that there aren't events that seem to suggest that they are the product of a divine plan, a common direction. There surely are. But that's really only because we notice the apparent connections amid the thousands of insignificant occurrences.
So when I managed to develop two inflamed discs that caused me pain and restricted my arm movements, it was not brought about by fate. When the anti-inflammatories prescribed by the neurologist caused an allergic reaction that forced me to discontinue them, it wasn't part of any divine plan. These events were not fated, predestined or divined. They were just things that happened. And when they happened they led me to legit massage parlors where I sought and received treatment for every part of my body except the one that probably needed it most.
Meanwhile, my social life was shit. I had precious little time to meet women, had no desire to use online dating services, and were it not for the plentiful availability of free online porn I probably would have blown my brains out. Around this period of time I also discovered webcam sites and I came to enjoy the virtual company of willing women in far off lands. The webcam site I preferred was packed with Colombians and Filipinas who would do anything and everything you asked for precious little compensation.
I quickly devised a process for ingratiating myself with them with compliments, tipping them a little without asking for anything beyond a smile. I would give them a little chit chat and then finally end up having them masturbate ferociously and shove whatever they had handy up their asses for a few dollars. These little private shows were recorded by the web cam site and I've still got a nice little video library of Asian and Central American women doing depraved things. I turn to it every now and then when I'm too lazy or too broke to go out.
If you've never tried chatting with camgirls, it is highly recommended as point of entry to the pay for play universe. These enterprising ladies were as skilled in the art of upsell as any massage girl I've ever met. In many cases more so, since they had to hustle me much more quickly and couldn't actually put their hands on my junk. Learning to play their game was instructive, and I've got videos of 22 year old Chinese girls fisting their own asses that testify to my ultimate mastery of the game.
At the end of the day, though, I was still just jacking off. I needed something more - more than massages and masturbation...and with very little further consideration the solution to my problem presented itself as a combination of both of these things, and I set out to get my first handjob. Bear in mind, this was a mere three years ago. I hadn't discovered the various boards devoted to this topic, I was flying blind. Somehow I managed to find a place on 43rd Street that was a sure bet to deliver a happy ending, and I assembled what balls I had left and rang the bell.
Again, let me say that I do not believe in fate, but in this case I had the blind luck to have blundered into a decent place. It was clean, there was a table shower, and the woman who took care of me was attractive and kind in addition to having a well-rehearsed routine involving a solid massage followed by dimmed lights, soft fluttering touches, and the request to turn over. She put on a superb show of her own feigned arousal and then proceeded to deliver an unsolicited prostate massage that could put your friendly neighborhood plumber to shame while jacking me off with the aplomb and skill only a professional who has tamed miles of cock can possess. The resulting orgasm approached religious intensity, not in the sense of "seeing god" but in the sense of prompting a strong desire to found a new religion centered around the delivery of handjobs.
I walked out of the place ecstatic. Finally, I had found something useful. I wondered why I had never tried it before. It was perfect, I felt relieved, and the crazy shit that pollutes my brain 24 hours a day was, for a brief shining moment, silenced. It was simple, transactional, hell it was even available in a convenient location.
A week later I was back. And again a week after that. Then twice in one week. Twice again. The service never varied, the results never changed. Sure, there was a lack of creativity, but for consistency it was unmatched. That same lovely Korean lady still works there. If you stop by and see her say "hi" for me and remind her of the enormous monster she unleashed. I had found a hobby, or one had found me. And where that first handjob felt like a fire had been extinguished, every single one after that was like gasoline on the flames of my new addiction.
. Nevertheless I still like his body of work and it is definitely a much needed glade plugin for the stale air of reviews and petty squabbles in here. Mazel tov y'all!