My name is CJ, and I'm an Erotic Massage Therapist. Well, I'm not even going to bother trying to remember the fake names of the girls who used to work here.
Now if you don't know what that is - I work in a massage parlor. One of the girls started doing full service outside The Business. I had to let her go and last I heard she got a job at a full service parlor outside Atlantic City. One was a pretty little girl from Peru of all places. Knew exactly what she was getting herself into, but still acted like each second at work was slowly shredding her immortal soul and condemning her to an eternity of unrelentless torment and pain. The next was a married woman who's husband wasn't just OK with her working in a massage parlor, but actually suggested she try it.
Ray got used to the vagaries of his fashionable patrons, but when this haughty bitch told that his coffee tastes like piss and tipped it onto his new shirt, his patience worn thin.
The bitch had to be punished, so he grabbed her by the hair, pressed her face to the stain, then fastened her hands to the banister, bonked her tight pussy and creamed her noble face with his cum.
Ever drive by one of those places with a red neon sign that says "SPA" and wonder what goes on behind those blackened windows? I'll teach you what a "Happy Ending" is and all the little tricks I use to give one. I was never sure what to think about that situation. Dropped out of school one day last spring and started working for us the next day. Trying to get her to keep a schedule was like herding cats. Would show up when she felt like it, then disappear in the middle of her shift to go "have a cigarette" with a customer. I have no idea what happened to her, but I hope she's OK.
She lasted through the summer and even had a bunch of her own Regulars by the time she quit. I would have fired her a long time ago, but she was never around long enough for me to have a decent conversation with her. And her leftovers were just more business for the rest of us.
What on earth could they do to fight off the boredom and keep themselves busy? Only the microwave, on the counter by the sink, still had any shininess to it, but the light inside didn't come on when Cindy pushed the button that opened the door. It beats just sitting around looking at the walls." Dave held a half hysterical laugh in by pure force of will, as he thought about how the last thing he'd be looking at in this room was the walls. He knew that his daughter was sans-panties too, based on what Denise had said. "My butt is showing again," said Cindy, punching her pillow. They turned to see a woman come through an open doorway.
The girls were in the back seat, dead to the world, after a soccer game that had been a real thriller. Even slapping one of the bedspreads didn't raise a cloud of dust, like Dave expected it to. While a grown woman would have wrinkled her nose and turned a wrathful eye on the man who had rented this room, the girls who now stood in it thought of it as "quaint", and decided, almost together, that this had turned into an adventure. "Yeah, it's a little remote, but we have us a nice town here. Cindy looked at her friend, one eyebrow going up, and then said: "Yeah, me too. "I'm not the one who didn't put any oil in the car! "I'm not the one who got us stuck in the middle of nowhere! She had been about to copy Denise, and hang it up on the other end of the curtain rod, when she realized that her butt would show too. From there the others got it within three more questions. No one wants to break down, and one way of dealing with that danger is to just pretend that nothing happened.
Dave looked into the rear view mirror to make sure he hadn't made the music too loud, and wakened them. Stranded Daddies By Beating Off Bob Dave Thompson turned the radio up a little as "You're Addicted To Love" came on the station they were listening to. " "Oh," said the man, fiddling with his hearing aids again. Even though we're on a well, it would take most of a day to fill her up, so it may still not be worth the trouble." Dick finished writing in the ledger, and spun it back around. The men looked around and, like men, figured that if there was a bed, and a TV, that was all they needed. " asked Denise, looking around where the TV was sitting. Don't get too many visitors, but we get by OK. Like I said, we ran a line from Jimmy Joe's satellite dish. "That's why he thinks it's so quiet around here." Denise had bent over to peer at the control panel of the television set. Even in the loose uniform shorts she was wearing, her buttocks looked round and firm. Hopefully it isn't closed yet." "You two go ahead," said Denise. We'll just stay here and rest while our big, strong daddies go out and kill a moose or whatever." "There isn't a moose within five hundred miles of here," said Dave, looking at his daughter. yeah ..." said Cindy, looking away and trying to act like she hadn't said anything. It's HIS fault my panties are hanging in the bathroom! " blurted Dave, happy to have something to think about other than what was just in front of the beautiful butt crack he had just torn his eyes away from. "I'm not sleepy, and there's nothing to do! Cindy went next, trying to stump them by thinking of a platypus. It doesn't work if only one participant in the situation takes that approach.
Like import models or pit girls in other countries, Japanese race queens attract a lot of attention with a devoted fan club of otaku photographers who happily snap photographs of their idols.
In Japan, being a campaign girl or race queen is often a quick path are known for being very pretty and sexy.