The death of any illusions about my sanity
- Thread starter justme
- Start date
At some point in the last decade, I found myself alone in a faraway country, with entirely too much time on my hands. I had accepted a position in one of my firm’s cost-saving centers, and while my wife shared my enthusiasm for the career opportunity, she did not share my sense of adventure. She stayed in New York.
And for a year, friends, I maintained my vows! Isolated in a strange land with few friends, I focused on the job at hand and immersed myself in work. But after a year of 80 hour weeks, I found that my job had gotten far easier and I suddenly had a lot of free time.
I decided to spend two of those free hours at a spa getting massages. It was legit - in a mall! So I figured my integrity was safe.
The spa was largely staffed by women who were ethnic minorities in their own country. They had been shipped from their remote state to the jungle of our shared city and given the opportunity of helping their employers enjoy ludicrous margins.
The massages were cheap by American standards: $90 for two hours. The girls were well trained having spent six months in a massage boot camp in a nearby city. And for the most part, they had little interest in me.
In hindsight, this is surprising! I was to later discover that they were paid about $150 per month plus tips that usually rounded the total closer to $200. My own habit was to tip about $15, a reasonable percentage of the fee and a nice round number in the local currency. At any rate, we’ll attribute professionalism to the fact that little was made of me despite my retrospectively absurd tips.
Eventually, I became the repeat customer of a skillful therapist. She was as shapeless as any of the other women in her loose fitting scrubs. But she did a good job and was cheerful enough. And, as in many good professional relationships, we developed a good rap.
A few months in we were having our normal soft conversation as she worked out knots and she asked me if I’d had an opportunity to taste her state’s cuisine. When I said that I hadn’t, she offered to bring me some. I replied that she should just come to my home and cook some. She simply replied, “We’ll see.”
I’m not entirely sure what my plan was at that point, but over the next few visits we exchanged IM app info and started texting a bit offline. Eventually I got her to agree to come over.
When she finally made it to my flat, we had dinner and a very pleasant conversation for a good 3-4 hours. It was nice to talk to someone not at work, and it was nice to talk to a sweet 22 year old woman. Sensing an opportunity, I asked her if I could kiss her and was pretty humiliated when she simply asked, “Why?” Despite my argument that it would be nice, she demurred and left shortly after.
I figured I had misread the situation and kicked myself for being pathetic. Why would this young woman have any sexual interest in a tubby middle aged guy?
The second time she came over, I gave her the first orgasm she’d had.
After awhile we fell into a pattern. I’d come home from work, walk to her hostel-like accommodations, and escort her to my place where we’d hang out, fuck like teenagers, and fall as. In the morning I’d walk her back to her place about a half mile away and get ready for work.
A few months into this situation, she asked me for the deposit to move into private accommodations from the work-provided dorms she was in. Because we were in a patriarchal country, she also needed a guardian to sign her lease. Once I realized there was nothing tying me to the document other than a name, I sucked up my paranoia and did it.
A few months later and two things had happened. I grew tired of losing her to work on the peel times of the weekend, and I began to develop feelings for her. I asked her if there weren’t anything more she’d like to do with her life that I could help her with. I thought that she’d ask to finish the 4 year degree she’d left halfway. Instead she told me she wanted to cut hair.
Soon enough I was paying tuition to her beauty school and giving her an allowance to cover her living expenses. At first she was resistant; she didn’t want to lose her independence. Eventually she got comfortable with the situation. I was completely supporting her at a cost to me of under $1,000 per month.
We continued this way for months. I took her on a few trips. She’d never been to the ocean. I purchased a pig and living room furniture for her parents.
The sex was amazing.
She eventually finished school and got a job at a high-end salon. She was making twice what she did as a therapist and didn’t hate her job. I lost her on the weekends again, but she stopped accepting my support. I still treated her lavishly.
Soon after she finished her program, I returned to the US. It was a tearful goodbye, but ultimately it ended the way we always knew it would.
The whole experience remains dear to me. I’m so glad I invited her over that one time.
I think, she was closer to what was traditionally meant by a sugar baby or kept woman. We had an arrangement, but not really any kind of explicit agreement. She knew I’d take care of her materially as long as we were together and I was happy to do it. I knew that she wouldn’t abuse my generosity.
All of this was only possible because of the relative economies. I suspect a similar situation in New York would cost me 5 times as much, and I’d likely deem that too dear. That said, if I had the means and the time, I think I’d enjoy that kind of thing again.
It’s interesting to me how similar this relationship was to the one I’d had so many years before. But it is just as striking how different the two relationships began.
And for a year, friends, I maintained my vows! Isolated in a strange land with few friends, I focused on the job at hand and immersed myself in work. But after a year of 80 hour weeks, I found that my job had gotten far easier and I suddenly had a lot of free time.
I decided to spend two of those free hours at a spa getting massages. It was legit - in a mall! So I figured my integrity was safe.
The spa was largely staffed by women who were ethnic minorities in their own country. They had been shipped from their remote state to the jungle of our shared city and given the opportunity of helping their employers enjoy ludicrous margins.
The massages were cheap by American standards: $90 for two hours. The girls were well trained having spent six months in a massage boot camp in a nearby city. And for the most part, they had little interest in me.
In hindsight, this is surprising! I was to later discover that they were paid about $150 per month plus tips that usually rounded the total closer to $200. My own habit was to tip about $15, a reasonable percentage of the fee and a nice round number in the local currency. At any rate, we’ll attribute professionalism to the fact that little was made of me despite my retrospectively absurd tips.
Eventually, I became the repeat customer of a skillful therapist. She was as shapeless as any of the other women in her loose fitting scrubs. But she did a good job and was cheerful enough. And, as in many good professional relationships, we developed a good rap.
A few months in we were having our normal soft conversation as she worked out knots and she asked me if I’d had an opportunity to taste her state’s cuisine. When I said that I hadn’t, she offered to bring me some. I replied that she should just come to my home and cook some. She simply replied, “We’ll see.”
I’m not entirely sure what my plan was at that point, but over the next few visits we exchanged IM app info and started texting a bit offline. Eventually I got her to agree to come over.
When she finally made it to my flat, we had dinner and a very pleasant conversation for a good 3-4 hours. It was nice to talk to someone not at work, and it was nice to talk to a sweet 22 year old woman. Sensing an opportunity, I asked her if I could kiss her and was pretty humiliated when she simply asked, “Why?” Despite my argument that it would be nice, she demurred and left shortly after.
I figured I had misread the situation and kicked myself for being pathetic. Why would this young woman have any sexual interest in a tubby middle aged guy?
The second time she came over, I gave her the first orgasm she’d had.
After awhile we fell into a pattern. I’d come home from work, walk to her hostel-like accommodations, and escort her to my place where we’d hang out, fuck like teenagers, and fall as. In the morning I’d walk her back to her place about a half mile away and get ready for work.
A few months into this situation, she asked me for the deposit to move into private accommodations from the work-provided dorms she was in. Because we were in a patriarchal country, she also needed a guardian to sign her lease. Once I realized there was nothing tying me to the document other than a name, I sucked up my paranoia and did it.
A few months later and two things had happened. I grew tired of losing her to work on the peel times of the weekend, and I began to develop feelings for her. I asked her if there weren’t anything more she’d like to do with her life that I could help her with. I thought that she’d ask to finish the 4 year degree she’d left halfway. Instead she told me she wanted to cut hair.
Soon enough I was paying tuition to her beauty school and giving her an allowance to cover her living expenses. At first she was resistant; she didn’t want to lose her independence. Eventually she got comfortable with the situation. I was completely supporting her at a cost to me of under $1,000 per month.
We continued this way for months. I took her on a few trips. She’d never been to the ocean. I purchased a pig and living room furniture for her parents.
The sex was amazing.
She eventually finished school and got a job at a high-end salon. She was making twice what she did as a therapist and didn’t hate her job. I lost her on the weekends again, but she stopped accepting my support. I still treated her lavishly.
Soon after she finished her program, I returned to the US. It was a tearful goodbye, but ultimately it ended the way we always knew it would.
The whole experience remains dear to me. I’m so glad I invited her over that one time.
I think, she was closer to what was traditionally meant by a sugar baby or kept woman. We had an arrangement, but not really any kind of explicit agreement. She knew I’d take care of her materially as long as we were together and I was happy to do it. I knew that she wouldn’t abuse my generosity.
All of this was only possible because of the relative economies. I suspect a similar situation in New York would cost me 5 times as much, and I’d likely deem that too dear. That said, if I had the means and the time, I think I’d enjoy that kind of thing again.
It’s interesting to me how similar this relationship was to the one I’d had so many years before. But it is just as striking how different the two relationships began.
Sounds like a beautiful relationship. Sounds like it worked so extremely well and healthy due to the rare mutual respect and egoless nature of the relationship. Sounds like her life was completely transformed by the relationship and yours was enriched with sweet memories and an abundance of good karma for treating a young lady like a princess, enjoying her youth without stripping away her dignity and allowing her the freedom of a new chapter in her life. Thanks for the great inspiring story.
Thank you @justme ..
I'm sure you have read the Seeking thread.
Your experience reads like a gentleman who sits down to a gourmet meal served by a gracious host. Every course is tastefully displayed and devoured. In the end there is real pleasure and dignity both to you and the host.
The same meal can be attacked ravenously, shredding the meat with bare and savage hands, bones being thrown over the shoulder, wine gulped down slavering throats.
I guess the difference speaks for itself, even after the meal is over. One the one hand is a quiet reminiscing, of pleasure generously given and taken, of personhood glorified in each other.
On the other is misguided chest-thumping, of destruction of dignity and decorum as much as bones and egos, a battleground where the winner takes all.
Oh, and welcome back to UG. Stay awhile. Please.
V
I'm sure you have read the Seeking thread.
Your experience reads like a gentleman who sits down to a gourmet meal served by a gracious host. Every course is tastefully displayed and devoured. In the end there is real pleasure and dignity both to you and the host.
The same meal can be attacked ravenously, shredding the meat with bare and savage hands, bones being thrown over the shoulder, wine gulped down slavering throats.
I guess the difference speaks for itself, even after the meal is over. One the one hand is a quiet reminiscing, of pleasure generously given and taken, of personhood glorified in each other.
On the other is misguided chest-thumping, of destruction of dignity and decorum as much as bones and egos, a battleground where the winner takes all.
Oh, and welcome back to UG. Stay awhile. Please.
V