Slightly Gay Spa Day

When I left my old job 2 years ago I was presented with a nice farewell present, namely a fat gift voucher for a well-known Japanese spa place just outside Stockholm. So this Saturday, one week before the gift voucher expired, I took my arse to Hasseludden Yasuragi to kick back for the day.

I’ll skip past the part where, even armed with a map and compass, I did my usual thing and got lost in the forest on the way there, and eventually stumbled from the undergrowth swearing a blue streak an hour later.

The spa itself was excellent, cool and big and calming with lots of stone and wood and subdued lights and tinkly Japanese music. I lounged about in various hot pools for two hours and then set out for the day’s highlight – a luxurious 80-minute massage.

So I presented myself outside the massage room at 17:00. A group of massagers (yeah, whatever) came out and announced who they were to squeeze. There were seven females and one male and, although I figured my chances were good, naturally I stood there feverishly thinking “not the guy not the guy not the guy…”

I got the guy. Lawrence, a very tall, attractive, half-black gentleman led me into the back room and indicated that I was to remove my trousers. Whereupon he slathered his hands with oil and approached me with a determined look about him.

Now I am a very liberal guy in almost all ways, but I freely admit that I would vastly prefer a female masseuse. Is that so wrong? I mean, sure, a guy has stronger hands, and is just as skilled, but it’s just so… so… gay

Anyway the massage was acceptable and went by quickly. I avoided catching Lawrence’s eye when it was over and stumbled from the room, clutching my faux-Japanese bathrobe around my naked body while the guys with busty female masseuses stared out from behind the curtains of their cubicles and grinned. Oh goodness me how they grinned.

Anyway now it’s in the past. It’s over and done with. And  if any of you ever mention it again – and I mean EVER – I’ll have to come round put you straight. With a good shoulder rub and an episode or two of SATS or maybe a nice quiche…

Ah dammit, see?

/ paddy (4 days without a homosexual experience and counting)

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11 thoughts on “Slightly Gay Spa Day

  1. Okay, let’s talk gay. Who could turn you?

    For me, I think Julian Clary. Maybe if I were under the influence, Stephen Fry too. Other than that my bot is a no-go zone.

    There, it’s out. I admit, I could be turned. But I shall avoid the haunts of Julian and Stephen with every sinew in my body. I’m still holding out for Claudia Schiffer. Equally as unlikely as getting a bone up the backside from the aforementioned.

    Back to preferring a female to handle you. I found a lump amongst the crown jewels, last year. I decided to visit the doc. Well, that sounds as though I went as soon as I found the lump. Actually, I found the lump two years prior. Last year, it had gotten bigger and I had registered with a new doctor, a female doctor. Yes! Looker too.

    So off to the doc I go with a big smile on my face but she isn’t there. No, I didn’t get a male doctor. A tubby bird. She asked me if I wanted a male doctor. I made some lame excuse, “Oh, I’m here already.” “Let’s get it over and done with.” “I’ll be brave.” Whatever.

    I was just glad that a male doctor didn’t get his hand on my tackle and there was, as they say, movement.

    But they do anyway, don’t they. Haven’t you noticed. Leave the little orbs to their own devices and they start wandering. Why is that?

    Okay, I’ve discussed too much. The fact that I could be turned and that I sit and watch my eggs go walkies.

    I’ll go to bed.

    PS – It was just a cyst.

    • That’s very close to what we call TMI. Although I once showed the chap to a female doctor. No touching, although she did call in a colleague to have a look too. True.

      • My doctoress had her paws all over my tackle. The thing is… not the slightest movement. That’s worrying too.

  2. Go figure… I thought I was the only one! I had a massage by a guy named Fabio… I was sore for a week. The alternative was a huge German woman… Gilda or something….. I think she could have whooped Fabios ass.
    (watch the length of those posts James… you might get the hook)

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