RUB-A-DUB-DUB

Last week my wife and I decided to take a short vacation out of town. One of the things we like to do when on a trip is pamper ourselves, usually with massages. I'm a huge fan of bodywork of all kinds, and there's little I find more indulgent and restful than a good massage.

We found a local place that had great reviews online, and wasn't too expensive. Thai massage being the featured special, among other modalities. 

The salon itself was a very modest affair, as these sort of places usually are. We knocked at the locked front door, and were politely let in by a young Asian gentleman.  The lobby, to be generous, had a small desk, stark white walls and pretty cheesy decor. The host, as a he called himself, handed us laminated "menus" of the treatment options. I went with what they called a therapeutic massage, essentially a Thai massage but using Tiger balm, followed by a soak in what was described as "hot tub." 

We finished our paperwork, which also included a diagram so you could circle the places you wanted worked on. I circled my back, butt and both of my legs, front and back.

 There was a short wait until a very petite young woman came out to collect me, while the front desk host told my wife to follow him (he apparently did double duty). 

We were led to adjoining rooms with a pocket door between them. The woman led me in and smoothed out the sheet, bending down to retrieve a basket from under the table. I was told to put my clothes in the basket and get under the sheet on the table, which I did. (She stepped out for a moment to give me privacy which, ultimately, wasn't necessary based on the rest of the massage.) I laid down and pulled the sheet up over my back, and put my face down in the cradle.

(Wearing a COVID mask on a massage table when face down is a good way to suffocate yourself, BTW. Be careful.) 

 The woman knocked lightly, came in and reconfirmed that I wanted deep pressure as I'd indicated on my sheet. I said I did, so she put my things away and I felt her come up to the head of the table. After a short minute of rubbling my scalp, she began the formal massage by rolling the sheet down to below my bum, exposing my back and butt. I was surprised by this, since normally these sort of massage places are very cautious with any sort of nudity, even though many of the bodywork modalities originated in places - Asia in particular - where the local culture is much more relaxed about the human body.  

This therapist had no such qualms. She started to work on my back and butt, using deep and long strokes that showed she really knew her stuff. This wasn't a rub, it was a genuine deep tissue massage using deep pressure and - when she found a particularly stubborn knot between my shoulder blades - an almost ruthless intensity. It felt fantastic (though the spot between my shoulder blades took a couple days to recover). I felt the table shake a bit as she climbed up to walk on my back and butt, then kneeling down to use her knees on my back muscles. 

Climbing down she worked the sides of my torso, pulling from my abdomen across my back, then grabbing under my shoulders to pull me back, first on one side, then moving to the other to repeat the move. She was twisting my torso and stretching me almost to the point of falling off the table. Then she moved my arms up and back, stretching my biceps and deltoid muscles.

Regular Thai stretching

Once she was done with the upper body she pulled the sheet back up over my shoulders, then folded it open from the hip down exposing my left leg and glute. She spent some time working the gluteal muscles in my ass and along the back of my legs, changing the fold as she moved from my left to my right side to partially uncover only one leg and butt cheek at a time. The fold was loose enough that there's no doubt in my mind my balls and perineum were in full view as she worked on both the upper inner thighs and gluteal crease.

Oddly enough, at no time did I feel like it was a deliberate come-on as can sometimes happen in the less reputable salons. Her massage was legit. When she needed access to any part of the body, she simply exposed it, worked it and moved on.

Thai bodywork - of which this was a variation - involves a good deal of the sort of stretching as she'd done with my torso and arms. Lower bodywork usually includes a bending of the legs, stretching the hamstrings and knee. Usually Thai is done with clothes on, but this was a variation which involved deep muscular massage, hence the need to be undressed. 

Like this, without the thong

She moved my legs around quite a bit, getting me into positions I wouldn't have thought I could manage. At one point she bent each leg out and pulled the foot up to rest just inside the other leg's knee. Then, standing on the far side of the table, she pulled back on the knee of the flexed leg to raise my hips and stretch the hips and lower torso as she pressed the other hand down on my lower back. Several times during the stretching the sheet would fall away, which she nonchalantly put back in place once the stretch was done.

She was strictly professional the entire time, but what I appreciated was that she apparently was putting the quality of the massage over any qualms about modesty. The draping became pretty haphazard, and I have no doubt she saw everything, but I was so caught up in enjoying the massage that I really didn't care. And frankly, I'm sure she's seen a lot better examples and also did not care.

As she finished my legs she went out of the room, leaving the door open and the drape askew, partially exposing my ass to anyone in the hallway.  A minute later she came back in, shut the door and removed the drape completely to wipe my back and legs with warm washcloths to remove the oil, a nice touch. 

Like this, without the erection.

She then put the drape back in place, covering me from shoulders to toes, and asked me to turn over. Then she rolled the top of the draping down to expose my chest and abs, which she then worked with long, fluid strokes - fortunately not applying quite as much pressure as she had on my back. 

She then moved down and did a great job on the front of my legs, exposing first one hip then, without replacing the sheet, the other one, with the drape left just covering my groin. She climbed back onto the table and moved both legs into a sort of lotus position, knees bent and soles of the feet flat against each other. She leaned forward on both inside upper thighs right where the legs meet the torso, stretching out the adductor muscles and flexing the legs. With her hands on both sides of my crotch, the sheet got pulled taughtly across my genitals. Despite the nearly direct contact, it didn't seem to be an effort to turn me on. The pressure wasn't playful or erotic, it was just utilitarian in order to flex the adductors. It really felt like she was trying to be thorough in her treatment.  (I did, for a second, wonder if she could tell my religion.)   

Her final movement was to have me sit up and drop my legs off the edge of the table. The sheet bunched across in my lap as she knelt behind me, with her knees directly against my bare ass. Grabbing my shoulders, she pulled me back, stretching my back and shoulders. Then, moving her arms up underneath mine she stretched me back again as my arms were raised upward and out, pulled back to repeat the stretch of my deltoid and pectoral muscles. The sheet slipped down and open, but again, no reaction at all from either of us. 

She climbed down from the table, grabbed my basket of clothing and handed me a towel to wrap around myself. She waited, facing me with the basket as I stood up. Apparently being given no option for privacy, and no real need after the bodywork, I dropped the sheet on the table and wrapped the towel around me, followed her out of the room and down the hall to the "hot tub" room. (Nobody was in the hallway.)

The hot tub was a small, claw footed tub, already filled with hot water and soap bubbles. She waited for me to get in, again with no expectation of privacy, then told me if I needed it cooler to let her know. She put down the basket and went out, coming back in a few minutes later to check on the temperature. I told her it was a little too hot, so she went down to the end of the tub and ran some cold water, asked how it was, and then left the room again. At this point I was pretty amused by the entire thing, and perfectly willing to just take it in stride.

The tub was too small for me to really enjoy, but I soaked for about twenty minutes until she came back in to let me know time was up. At this point most of the bubbles were gone, so she put a towel down on a small chair next to the tub, told me to take my time getting out, and closed the door again. 

A new man

I got out, dressed and met my wife in the lobby. She asked how it had gone and how I felt. I felt fantastic, but rubbery. And really refreshed. And, no, I didn't tell my wife that I'd spent pretty much the last hour and a half naked in front of the young woman.

I genuinely wish we lived closer, since I'd love to get more bodywork with her. She really knows what she's doing, and I have to admit, I like her lack of concern about draping. Yes, it appealed to my CFNM/exhibitionist side, but that's not the reason I was cool with it. This wasn't a sexual situation and we both behaved professionally. 

All too often a good massage can be ruined by the therapist being more concerned with modesty than delivering a great massage. I've had bodywork where more effort is spent on tightly draping and covering the customer than massaging the muscles, to the extent it seems like the practitioner is uncomfortable with the human body. That's hardly relaxing in my mind. 

(I'm painfully aware that this is the result of massages being seen...and often practiced...as a sexual thing. A few bad actors kinda put a damper on it for the rest of us.)

I want both of us to be focussed on me getting my muscles worked, not focussed on making sure nothing untoward is seen. It's the equivalent of a medical situation, in my mind, and if a doctor spent the effort of making sure they didn't see my butt when they're supposed to be ensuring my health, I'd have a new doctor in short order. 

In any number of ways an over concern with draping accentuates the nudity instead of ignoring it. I understand the therapist's sensibilities and the law, but if you're that worried about seeing skin then maybe you're in the wrong line of work. 

And I don't mind losing some modesty if my return is great bodywork.

YMMV, of course.