Well it looks like…

The car is fixed (Fingers Crossed)

My working out is paying off

Things aren’t as difficult to pick up and move. Bicycles, weights for patio umbrellas, tables (moved for cleaning).

But the best evidence is from my masseur.

Ya know he sees peoples bodies all day every day. He commented that I was bulking up since the last time he saw me (about 1 month ago). It was really nice of him to notice and comment on it.

Hes one of three masseurs in the LA area that has SERIOUS upper body strength.  I like him because like the other two he doesn’t fuck around with that stupid draping and just gets down to business.

It’s not like he hasn’t seen other folks junk or anything. Truth to tell I prefer my masseur to be naked right along with me. I hate the feel of fabric moving on my skin while I’m being massaged. It’s annoying and drags me back from where ever I’ve escaped to when I’m not screaming like a little girl.

And believe me… I scream like a little girl… A LOT!

By nature I’m pretty tense. Add to that some of the stuff that’s been going on in my life over the past 3 months and a workout every other day… well The last time Mark said I was like concrete.

Not so much now… just heading off for a workout…  I’m sure I’ll be good and tense the next time I see one of the guys.

I’m fortunate that the masseurs I’ve found are the real deal.

It’s hit and miss out there. Some masseurs are only about the happy ending. They’ll lightly rub my back, then vigorously rub my cock. Don’t get me wrong, happy endings are great but I’m not paying for a massage to get the happy ending.

Ya know, my hands work just fine! If I come to you for a massage, I want a fucking massage and you better not think otherwise.

Off the massage table… well we’re two consenting adults… Ahem

When I go to my usual guys, by the time they’re done with me…  Believe me! My Junk, a happy ending, even a hard on is the FURTHEST thing from my mind.

It’s pretty fucking hard to be perceived as “Macho” when five minutes before you were screaming like a school girl and begging for the dude to lighten up.

I have wondered on more than one occasion, if my masseurs are secretly into some kind of BDSM.

If they are they must really get their jollies with me! But then again what does it say about me… that I keep going back?

Discover more from Bone In The Throat

Subscribe now to keep reading and get access to the full archive.

Continue reading