The Threesome That Every Man Has Dreamt Of
What would you do if your partner gave you permission to hook up with other people? Bradley, 32, tells Simply Oloni about his sexual experiences with the women his girlfriend allowed him to visit in massage parlours whilst he spent time in East Asia. From ‘happy endings’ to threesomes, he spills it all…
I worked for several years in an East Asian country. The reason for this was that I had become involved, and moved in with, an American girl I had met in my first year there. We were both in our 20s; she had many more partners than I had and was more experienced in bed, but I was also her first serious relationship that wasn’t a short fling. She was my fourth sex partner and my second serious girlfriend.
Now, work visas are impossible to get for a Brit to work in the US and vice versa, so after two years we decided that she would return to America to complete her masters, and I would stay on in East Asia and finish the year work visa to save for a long visit. Meanwhile we would do the long distance thing for six months.
My then-girlfriend was a complicated woman (for one thing, she had a higher sex drive than me) and she knew that in East Asia it’s easier for a Western man to pick up a local woman than at home. Before she left she told me that she wanted me to use the services of the local Asian happy ending massage parlours while we were apart because ‘…I know what men are like, etc’. The gist was she was afraid that I would get sexually frustrated and leave her to take up with a local girl like so many of our colleagues did
The situation in our city was the reverse of most Western ones; I think it is safe to say that had this been a Western context it would have been easier for her to meet a man than for me to meet a girl. In this case however, we were both teaching business English to university students and professionals, so there were dozens of pretty English-speaking young women about. Affairs with students were common and ironically the common perception that Westerners (men & women) had loose sexual morals actually led to a lot of passes by local girls. To give a simple example, I was once minding my own business on a half empty subway train and reading a book between classes, when an attractive woman approached and seated herself next to me, introduced herself and chatted away for twenty minutes, before giving me her phone number and email. Nothing further happened, but I expect if we had met in this country she would have sat herself at the far side of the carriage and we would have stared through each other.
In any case I was one of the few male teachers in a relationship and the only one dating a Western girl. Most of our teaching friends were single guys, and after a few beers the stories would start. Some were about their affairs, some were about the affairs their female friends and students told them about, and some were about the treks to the massage places. These were the visible face of the sex industry in the city we worked in, and strangely they really did offer massages. After one drunken night out a friend explained that the happy endings were an extra, generally seen as culturally acceptable for a man as being a ‘safe’ way to get sexual release for male urges, albeit a slightly shady one. If you wanted sex with a prostitute however, a bar was a much better bet.
When I went to my first visit the place I was advised to try was nothing like I expected. It was a small place next to a corner shop, with a perfectly ordinary sign. You would go in and climb some stairs as awful taped mood music yodelled softly in the background, and step into a reception area where you would be given a seat until a lady was free. On my first visit that turned out to be a thin and tall Asian lady in her late-thirties I will call P. She was quite chatty and between us we could usually carry on a conversation in two languages for an hour booking. The first time I met her she was able to lead me around very gracefully.
The procedure my first visit typically set the pattern for the rest. After paying for an hour massage at reception P or another masseuse would lead me to a massage cubicle with a table, pegs and a shower. The masseuse would then disappear and return with a towel, oil, paper towels, and a pair of disposable plastic shorts to maintain the polite fiction that you weren’t here to climax explosively, and all the female masseuses just wore heels and clingy dresses as a kind of informal feminine dress code. She would then exit the room to let you shower and dry yourself, and put on your shorts.
After a few minutes, once you were lying down on the table, the lady would let herself back in and bolt the cubicle door. She would pour some oil onto her hands and begin a slow shoulder rub. If you were new she would coyly ask if there was anything extra that you wanted, or if you had been here before. If you wanted a happy ending or a nude massage you would have to negotiate a tip before the massage started. With P I would just get the massage/happy ending, because the woman was an expert tease and gave a great full body massage to boot.
P’s technique was to have me lie face down and systematically oil and rub the arms, legs and back in turn, from the right and left sides for twenty minutes. She would then pour a basin of hot water and sponge bath the oil away, before giving you a rubdown with her towel. When she was ready, she would tap my backside significantly and help me wriggle out of the shorts, before draping a towel over me. She would then kneel astride me on the table and repeat the back massage, getting slowly and deliciously closer to the edge of the towel with every stroke. At last the towel would be whisked away and I would lie nude before, still face down.
P used to make me raise up on my knees so she could dribble oil between the cheeks of my arse. I would then be tortured by a slow stroking of oiled hands that would slide down my ass, swirl my testicles and stroke my prostate. Finally when she thought me hard enough, P would sit behind me and place my legs over hers, with me still face down. Instead of the usual jerking motions of a hand job, she would run both her oiled hands up the length of my cock from base to tip in a sort of swirl, before circling the head and glans and returning to my balls. It felt amazing and the horniest thing was that you would quickly come without ever seeing her or what she was going to do next.
I wanted to go into explicit details about the ordinary happy ending massage above to tell women quite why guys love it so much, but also to differentiate it from my one-off threesome. P’s massage parlour was a typical business in our big and bustling city, on a busy shopping street and near a subway exit. I would never have gone if it had not been recommended to me. I met the lady, who I will call K, who arranged my threesome a much more Western way: I googled for erotic massage and found her website.
K was younger than P by five years or more, and spoke nearly fluent English which she claimed to have taught herself from movies. She was also a nurse and worked at one of the city hospitals; I genuinely have no idea how she came to give erotic massages as a sideline. Her second job was to visit foreign businessmen who could not speak or read the local language at their hotels and charge them ten times what P did for the same service. I first contacted her when I was nervous about going to my first parlour visit, about a home visit. Though I went ahead she kept our later appointment and was the first Asian lady I ever saw naked. It was to her I turned to arrange a threesome, partly because she had friends who also did home visits, and partly because I had awful language skills.
K was from our city, but the friend she brought, S, was from a small village in the neighbouring province. Both girls agreed beforehand that we would shower together and there would be nudity and wandering hands, but nothing else. S was in her early twenties and also had a German boyfriend, but she explained that as long as she stuck with happy endings it wasn’t cheating. Since that was basically my situation I kept my thoughts to myself but thought wistfully about how long it had been since I had given or received oral sex. I suppose it was a good thing that I was to be leaving to go to the US at that point since even I could see I was on a slippery slope.
S and K came over to the small flat I was renting in the early evening; it was summer but it gets dark earlier in Asia than it does in our country, so night had already fallen. Both arrived dressed in long jackets, jeans and t-shirts, with the oversized handbags that masseuses love to tote. As a good host I had cleaned the place and had the spare plastic indoor shoes it is customary to wear inside in Asia lined up for my visitors. They counted their fees upon arrival and then shooed me from the kitchen into the bedroom so they could get undressed; I protested that watching that was part of the fun, but its been my experience that women will never believe men about what we find sexy; just look at all the arguments about the ‘drowsy just woken up’ look.
K called me back in when she and S were ready, and I had striped off myself and slung some towels over one arm. The sight of the two women together as I walked in was wonderful. K had her elbow leaning slightly on S and they were both wearing the clunky cheap plastic indoor sandals I’d left out. Other than that they hadn’t a stitch on between them and both were lovely; white teeth, shoulder length black hair, small breasts with prominent dark nipples, wisps of surprisingly long and coarse public hair that I immediately wanted to stroke. Of course I had seen naked women of all ages, shapes, races and varieties on the internet. But pornography really can’t compete with the simple presence of an ordinary woman’s body, so seeing two together in real life was ecstasy and adrenaline-inducing at the same time.
We took a shower together with S sliding against me while K scrubbed my back, then S washing my privates while K slithered against me from behind. S let me run a curious hand through her bush, which K found hilarious, and I gave them both a lecherous soaping. At last K called time and we stepped out and dried off. The girls became businesslike as they fetched their oils, wipes and paper tissues out while I watched. Then they followed me through to my bedroom and I lay down face first on a towel.
Their massage technique was very similar to P’s, but four hands meant they could massage me simultaneously from both sides, and there were no annoying shorts to worry about. Two women also meant S could brush her breasts up and down my back while K pressed her index finger against my prostate and fondled my balls and cock with oily skillfulness. For once I wanted to finish on my front however, so I could watch them masturbate me to completion. I asked S to do it, as I wanted hard pressure to come and K kept stroking me too softly. She knelt at the foot of my bed, jerking me off while K leaned over me and let me kiss her neck and breasts. That did it nicely, and I didn’t take long to come, which made S extremely smug. I think their usual routine was to have K do it, as she was more experienced and had better techniques.
S and K were an interesting couple to sleep with; I can’t say, I get we were close, but I have had one night stands with worse chemistry. Both women were there just to get me off, which felt different, but they were friendly and chatted throughout. I came away a richer man for the experience I think.
I continued my relationship with my girlfriend for almost another year after that encounter. We had a ‘don’t ask-don’t tell’ policy around the months we were apart although I expect she guessed. What broke us up eventually was that issue of not being able to get a job in each other’s home countries. Now I’m older however I can see there were underlying issues that wouldn’t have boded well if we’d stayed together longer either; we were bad at boundaries.
What I can say today from having tried other ways of (non-relationship) hooking up is that a consensual threesome with erotic masseuses is something I still remember years later and don’t regret. I can also say it isn’t an alternative to a real relationship with a woman, either in bed or out of it. I would suggest it as an alternative to swinging for older libertine couples who are looking to push their boundaries in a safer way than attending a swapping party. I would try this again if I met the right bi-woman and knew the right escort, but perhaps this time as the person giving the massage to my partner.
