Part One: Mr. Kisser

"All I want to do is kiss you, baby," he kept whispering in my ear while rubbing his finger clumsily over my panties. I tried to get around it by doing the always successful combination of neck licking and soft moans, but his pursuit for my lips was relentless. I turned around so that he could see the both of us in the mirror, as I grabbed hold of his hand and started to sensually suck his two fingers. We were still standing over the massage table, both looking at the mirror, him behind me, sliding his fingers in my mouth, my soft warm tongue rolling over them. I release a gentle moan, as if I'm giving head. Yes, giving head now turns me on -it's as if my pussy can feel what my mouth is doing - my mouth and my pussy can now cum at the same time, as if in those moments, they have become one. My anime-like eyes turn glassy and wide as I look up at him in the mirror. I bring my other hand behind me, and start to tease his cock with my fingertips, which, to no surprise, was hard as concrete, ready to explode. I felt his whole body tremble and watched his face in the mirror as I continued my finger show; he started to sweep my hair from my face and gently pull it back, I could already see his climaxing face, and it wasn't subtle. I start off by gently petting his cock more firmly from behind; even the softest touch starts sending electricity down my arm, infusing me with some type of energy that made my pussy even wetter. There seems to be a magnetic force between my hand and his cock, and it felt as though the more my hand hovered around his genitals (even before really grabbing on), the more energy we were creating inside and around us. As this energy washed over me, I moaned in genuine, orgasmic delight. I couldn't help the soft, sweet sensations that kept bubbling through me as we generated the energy. I couldn't help the pleasure I was feeling; it was being expressed through soft and gentle moaning. Though it was soft, these moans were powerful - powerful vibrations that was felt and understood by the two of us.

As soon as I fully grab onto his dick, both of us let out a loud but gentle scream of pleasure. We looked at each other in the mirror, both with eyes wide in excitement, and both smiling with joy - we laughed harmoniously acknowledging the fact that we were both getting off so successfully from just touching each other. You know, as many times as I've done this move, it always surprised me as to how much it made me go wild with pleasure. It may have been different with each person, but the science behind it was always the same - same formula, different energy. The combination of seeing us both in the mirror and feeling the power of his rock-hard cock in my hand sent this type of electricity through my body that gave me a sexual pleasure that was unique from just regular sex. I literally felt like my whole body was being made love to. It always turned me on and made me wet, and I'm pretty sure each client felt that on the most innately primal understanding possible, and that's what turns them on even more. These men didn't realize that the energy I was feeling from just touching them was actually making me cum. All over. At this point, if we kept building the energy, I was ready to orgasm so loud for the guys at the poker joint next door to enjoy during their game of concentration and bluffing.

That signature move of mine distracted him for that hot, passionate moment, but then he suddenly put his hands on my waist and turned me around. I felt disoriented. The energy severing the two of us knocked me off my game. Why did he stop, I thought. I was almost about to cum, and from how rock hard his cock was, I could tell he was about to cum with me. He looked at me and said, "Sweetheart, I just want to feel your lips on mine." Sigh. Okay fine, motherfucker.

Men are such funny creatures. They think they're in full control of their lives, but really, they are mostly enslaved to their hormones and primal urges. But you gotta really love them, I mean I honestly do. As you walk down a busy street tomorrow, I dare you to look around and look at each man. Look them straight in the eye. Observe their mannerisms - some you'll find confident, stoic even, some may seem confused, some may look lost, some may seem they have everything together. Just observe them. I guarantee you, one in four of those men at one time or another had an experience with a sex worker. And in this series, I will take you into an intimate view of what really goes down behind the doors of an erotic massage parlor, or as many of you so poetically like to call, the Rub and Tug.

Who knew that the best and worst job I would ever have thus far in my life would be to stroke the cock (and egos) of the men of this city. My whole life I studied to be a doctor, and yet due to certain detours I made along the way, I ended up there, in lingerie, joining the "Hoe Train" (as the girls called it). In the three years that I dedicated my life to this profession, I have perhaps served as close to two thousand individuals (men, women, and some in question). With each client, I tried to be present and loving, empathizing with them, understanding their needs and their desires, listening to them talk about their lives, their loved ones or lack thereof, holding them when they needed to be held, and spanking them when they needed to give up their power. In my own right, I was a doctor of a different breed. A doctor of Intimacy. With that perspective, approach, and attitude, my work as a masseuse was making a positive impact on the lives of not just the clients, but of the women that worked alongside me.

Even with all of my many years in customer service, years of studying psychology, and the years I was obsessed with porn, I was still not prepared for the complexity of human sexuality and psyche that I witnessed as a Masseuse. And though the average person may look down on this type of work, again, I urge you to think of the one in four men that have been serviced by a girl like me. There is obviously something missing in our society, and I was there to explore what that is. And though money was a major factor as to what got me there and what kept me around, what I discovered while doing my job has given me a better understanding of who I am, the power that I hold, and the relationship between humans and our sexuality. Welcome to my confessions as a Tantric Masseuse. I'm so happy that you're here!

There are certain rules I had while I worked in this industry. To be clear, I never did "extras" either - I never had sex with a client or gave them head - there seems to this idea that all massage girls have those options, but that wasn't true, at least not for me and my girls. In order to keep my sanity, I had to have rules for myself. Basically, there was to be no exchange of fluid - this is the only way I could do my job while feeling safe. There was that odd time, however, when those rules had to be "fluid". Sometimes the reason for such fluidity is that I find a connection that is rare in the room, sometimes it's because I sincerely care for the client, and sometimes, just sometimes... I needed extra cash that week. I will discuss all of these situations, but for this entry, I am describing the last one.

It was a dry month in the middle of winter - I would normally average five to six clients a day, but that month, I was lucky to have a regular or two come and see me each day I worked. There were only two days in my whole career that I blanked and went home with nothing, and they both happened in this same month. There was a snowstorm outside - the girls and I all knew that having a client come in would be a miracle. We were losing hope of anyone coming in, so we ordered food, snuggled in front of the tv, and started to watch the chraming film, Multiplicity, which is quite ironic once you start to really understand the lives we lived. I really savoured these moments, as messed up as our work was sometimes, we tried to maintain the feeling of being part of a family - which is probably why our spa was growing in popularity, and had the highest ratings on all the pervy websites. Yes, those do exist - think of it like Yelp... for hand jobs, written by rubbing consisseurs. We kept the vibes high, our spirits up, and it translated in the rooms, resulting in very happy endings all over the place.

In the middle of the movie, our manager, Mai, bursted into the Girls' Room, as she usually would in order to change up the energy. She knew we were slowly drifting into comfy-mode; it was her job to knock the sleep out of our eyes and get us up so we can do a good job in getting the clients up. She was like our fluffer, but with more responsibility and an even more impressive set of skills. Mai was an ex-masseuse, she did a quick stint for about a year, and then swiftly moved into the manager role. She was everyone's favourite manager - she was tall and slim with the longest legs, dark-red lipgloss over her pouty lips, long jet-black straight hair with bangs, ocean-colured eyes, tight and professional outfits that were always on-point. The key to Mai was that she was down-to-earth, genuine and she always kept things real - both to the clients and to the girls. She had it all (in the best way possible for everyone) and used it to our advantage to keep both the clients and the girls happy. The guys all wished they could go into the room with her, and she played that up every time. She had such a talent for getting the girls excited and enthusiastic about going into the rooms. I wish this industry had some sort of award for the best manager/fluffer - she would win that award by a landslide.

"Girls! We got a hot one right now!! Go get ready!" she cheered. All the girls moaned (not in the good way), and slowly started to move.

"Hey, Pheonix, it's been a cold month, huh? It's time to get real warm," she said to me as she started to karate chop my shoulders in some kind of playful massage, hoping that I'd pick up the pace and set the example for all the other girls. She then started to motivate the other girls by rubbing their shoulders and doing that goofy dance that always made us giggle. As hot as Mai was, she was also the goofiest girl I have ever met. She was almost a cartoon character that was too good to be true. In the midst of all of her shenanigans, one of the girls, Amber, peeked through the door to see who our knight in shining armour was that was there to rescue one lucky girl from our cold winter drought.

"Maiii!" Amber whined in a shriek, "it's Mr. F*!king Kisser!" she continued to yell profanities as she started to make gag sounds and put the towel back over her body. "Girls, good luck, make that money. Imma eat ma chicken wings and call it a night." It was always such an endearing sight to see this cutie throw up some attitude wearing the tiniest bikini, slouch on the couch with her 7-inch heels still strapped on, making her knees higher than they should be, while mowing down on whatever junk food she brought in that day. She was the baby of the group of us - she had the heart of gold, sexiest little body, and a little bit of thug attitude to complete the package. Everyone, even the clients, had the inclination to be very protective over this little one.

Mai watched this little girl pout while licking the honey garlic sauce off her fingers, and quickly agreed, "yeah, okay, no worries Amber. You good. Enjoy your wings." Mai looked across the room with hopeful yet nervous eyes. And with that, Amber completely changed the energy of the room, as everyone started to freak out. Mai knew I was her only hope because 1. I was still relatively new to the spa and haven't had my initiation with the Kisser and 2. she knew I had a soft spot for her, and always brought my A-game any time she'd ask me to.

Mr. Kisser was one of the more infamous regulars that would frequent the spa. When you're a regular, and you "sample" all the girls, they all talk about you. If you're a loyal regular and only see one girl, she keeps your 'relationship' to herself; that type of client is sacred. I think it's just natural for women to have that sense of loyalty when it's reciprocated. However, some of these regulars with fetishes and a need for variety had the delusion that we like their "quirks" and kept them secret, but trust me, if you're not loyal to a girl, she won't be loyal to you either. At that point, you're just begging to be part of our weekly lipstick meetings where we discuss our latest outfits, signature moves, and the odd things that went down in the rooms.

Going back to Mr Kisser, he was this older English "gentleman" that would come in at least once a week. His thing is, you guessed it - he loves to kiss. And not just a peck, or like a little making-out before the good stuff - he wants the kissing to be the massage. He wants us to massage his lips, his tongue, and his tonsils with our mouths. Not only was he a regular at our spa, he was a regular in EVERY spa. He made it a hobby of his to go around to different massage parlors and review the girls on the pervy websites. This is one of the things I hated about the job and the industry, but it was a reality we all had to come to terms with. So not only do you have to kiss this guy, you gotta make sure that you're damn believable, otherwise he will out you on the web for all the other "hand-job enthusiasts" to read. I knew all this, and yet, I was still not prepared for what happened to me in that room that night.

As protocal, we all lined up and got ready for the "Hoe Train". Whenever a new client comes in, and he wants to see the "lineup", the manager goes to the back, lets us know to get ready, and we all line up to introduce ourselves, hence the term "Hoe Train". This is a term that the girls coined before I got there, and at first, as a 'humanities student' and an ex-Catholic, I found the term and even the act itself to be offensive and demeaning. But that quickly dissolved when I came to terms with my reality, looked at what I was wearing, and got in line. I figured, in new and weird situations, you gotta find the humour in what you're doing, otherwise your situation is going to have power over you, and you will fall into this negative victim-mentality rather than feeling the power of your own choices. By calling it the Hoe Train we took our power back - all of us were strong women, there by choice, and empowered by our sexuality and each other. We held our heads up high as we walked that Hoe Train every night, and the confidence was felt by all the clients.

As I walked out into the Lounge, there he was, Mr. Kisser, in all his glory. He was a shorter gentleman, probably in his mid-fifties, sporting dark brown curls, long enough to be super curly, a slim build, and very thick black-framed glasses. As I walked out, his eyes lit up through those thick frames, like an owl. He got up, smiling from ear to ear, as he greeted me with his British accent, "oh the famous Pheonix, I have read all about you on the threads, and your friend Mai, here, has talked you up all night! She says you're a fun girl" he said, smiling. I looked over to Mai, and she had that mischievous half-smile that she always used to cover up her laughs. "Yes, Mai, please arrange a room. I would looove to see Pheonix tonight," he says, as I was still looking at May. Then he takes my hand, and says in his very British accent, "we're going to have a good time tonight, aren't we, Beautiful. You like to kiss, yes?". A part of me was dying inside from both laughter and dread.

"Yes. So excited for all the kissing," I said nervously, kissed him on the cheek, and then ran back to the Girl's Room.

As I went back to the room to get ready, all the girls started to cheer me on. I'm still not sure if that made me feel better or more nervous, but I appreciated their support nonetheless. Now, the thing with kissing, and the reason why many girls don't do it with their clients, is because it's such an intimate experience. Some of these girls have partners at home, some were even married, and so there were some things that were kept sacred. Kissing was of course one of them. I didn't have a partner at the time, I actually was just recovering from a fresh breakup with my ex-fiance, but that's a story for another time. My issue was the fact that this man, as nice as he thought he was being with everyone, was going around to every spa, "ordering" every new girl that popped up, and made it his mission to heavily make out each one of them. His mouth was pretty much a walking, talking orgy, and all of us were invited, without the fun of actually being in an orgy. You know how with every job, there is always that one or two things that you don't want to do, but you have to? For example, people that drive a bus, they work crazy insane hours, and maybe they have to let in people that look dangerous - they wouldn't do it if they had the choice, they know it may not turn out so good in the long run, but it's part of their job description, and they wouldn't be a good bus driver if they refused. That's exactly what Mr. Kisser was to me. He was the crazy hours and the dangerous people on the bus. So, really, when you think about it that way, he wasn't so bad!

Anyways, I think that's a good introduction to what this series is all about. I promise to add more spice, raunch and maybe even give you some ideas for your own bedroom game as you get to know me and my crew of sexy, smart, and sensual girls and following our little spa adventures. There are so many stories inside of me, I didn't want to take them to my grave. Every day I worked, I always felt like I was living a movie, and now I get to share it with all of you.

The session with Mr. Kisser is to be continued in the next entry. Until then, stay safe, keep it sexy, and go love yourself!

xoxo

Pheonix Rising