Phyllis and I had a couple's massage this afternoon. I had hubby, she had the seven-month-pregnant wife. Very nice lady, but MY client? Meh.
I try to always give folks the benefit of the doubt, so when my client started twitching on the table, I thought, "Whatever."
Then I noticed he kept looking at his wife, and I thought, "Aw, cute! He's checking to see how his pregnant wife is doing!"
Not really. He was checking to see if she was watching HIM, because he was getting into the massage a leetle too much, if you know what I mean (and I KNOW you do!)
He was grinding into the table, and when I massaged his glutes, he lifted his hips up into the strokes, VERY disconcerting to me. I also think he had his hand underneath himself, fondling his junk, but I couldn't really tell under the sheet.
So when the massage was finally over, I felt like I needed a shower to cleanse myself.
The missus was waiting for hubby at the front desk, when Rhyan came trotting out of the men's spa and made a beeline for me. Apparently the mister got so revved up from the massage, he couldn't wait to get to the hotel room and get it on with the missus. Instead, he decided jacking off in the shower was a viable alternative! Ewwwww. I'm really glad it was a couple's massage and not individual, who knows what he'd have tried to pull if he had been alone with me in a treatment room. Oh, well. At least he was a good tipper!