As we got into the massage I noticed him getting particularly close to sensitive areas. For example, when he started to massage the backs of my thighs, he got particularly far into my buttocks and vaginal area.

I was already getting turned on, so by the time he flipped me over to work my front, I was curious: how far would it go this time?

As he massaged my upper chest area he told me, “I notice you’re very tight in your chest.”

“Oh?” I said, “What would help it feel better?”

“Well, I could do a breast massage. I wouldn’t be fresh. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“That sounds fine. I’m not a prude. Whatever you think will help.”

Obviously, the two of us had a different plan than just helping my tight chest muscles.

He pulled down the sheet and began to rub my breasts. He didn’t touch my nipples (sadly), but just his hands on my breasts were enough to have me continue to pull down the towel until it exposed my belly button and above.

“I hope you don’t mind. I’m getting a little hot.”

“That’s OK. I don’t mind at all. I’m getting turned on.”

And with that, he moved from behind my head and massaging my breasts to standing in front of me, pulling down the towel all the way, and “working” my clitoris.

Finally, I asked for what I wanted: “Will you go down on me?” I got my wish and I have to admit, it was one of the best orgasms I’ve ever had.

My “happy” tune changed, though, when he asked if he could have sex with me, and I said absolutely not. I suppose I was selfish; I wanted to get off and didn’t care at all if he did or not.

Afterwards, as the massage ended and it was time for me to get dressed, I started to feel awkward. That female guilt, something a man would never feel, started to hit me.

What had I just done?

As I thanked him for the massage, he handed me his card for a private at-home massage service. I said I’d call but as I walked away I knew I wouldn’t. And now I really felt like a man (minus that guilt).

I waited a year to return to that spa and made sure to never request him again, despite the excitement. That after-orgasm regret stuck with me. Besides, what if this was something he did with many women? How would I know?

And when he asked to have sex it felt way too real. Not that I should’ve been surprised but that the “fantasy” became all too real and I knew I couldn’t handle any more than what he did to me. I knew his “card” was really him asking to have sex with me, and I didn’t want that.