After finishing my business at the bank, all I wanted was to relax and catch my breath.

I was tired of the clinical smells of beauty salons and weary of the superficial massages at Thai spas—though, to be fair, the sex at a Thai spa is exquisite. The moans of the Thai girls, their tongue work, and the rhythmic suction of their vulvas are enough to drive a man to madness. I flipped through the newspaper and found a number for a home-based aromatherapy massage service.

"How much for an aromatherapy massage?"

"2,000 baht for ninety minutes."

"Is the lady young?"

"They are all very young. Satisfaction guaranteed."

It was strange; even though I already knew the answer to such a question, I found myself asking anyway.

I drove there and stepped inside. The decor was quite modest, almost plain. When I entered the treatment room, it was sparsely furnished, containing nothing but a single massage bed.

"Please have a seat. The lady will be with you shortly."

When the door opened, the woman who entered was unadorned, possessing a natural, slightly voluptuous figure.

"I'll be in your hands in a moment," I said.

"The pleasure will be mutual," she replied.

She asked me to put on disposable paper panties, but I told her it wasn't necessary. I stripped completely and lay face down on the bed.

"Would you like to shower first?"

I thought it might be a good idea, but the sound of running water from the adjacent bathroom made me reconsider.

"Then let me start the massage for you," she suggested.

"Alright, thank you!"

As for her technique and her knowledge of pressure points...

Truthfully, a small part of me felt a pang of regret. Had I known, I should have gone to the Rose Garden to find Yuna.

Yuna was petite with a fresh, delicate beauty. The first time I saw her, I thought she offered pure aromatherapy; she wore simple T-shirts and narrow skirts, and during massages, she would spend ages chatting about the benefits of milk powder. However, her massage technique was superb—so much so that she had even lulled me into a nap once. But when she had asked me to turn over and lie on my back, she had calmly inquired whether I wanted a "half-set" or a "full-set." I was so startled by the question that I nearly tumbled off the bed.

Because I had been exhausted that time, I didn't want the full service. She had used her hand to gently stroke me to climax, a sensation so heavenly it felt like soaring through the clouds. I had caressed her thighs and buttocks back then; they were firm and shapely, without any sagging, suggesting that sex with her would be quite intense. Her breasts were modest, but her nipples peaked beautifully at the slightest touch, and her breasts possessed a wonderful elasticity that betrayed her youth. She claimed to be born in '81, and I believed her. I had intended to find an opportunity for a full service, but as humans do, the thought had simply drifted away.

After the acupressure massage, she applied lotion to my back. There is a significant difference between acupressure and aromatherapy; acupressure works on the meridians to relieve muscular tension, while aromatherapy is meant to soothe the nerves.

As I rolled over to lie on my back, perhaps due to the deep relaxation, my manhood immediately surged with blood, growing hard and turgid. I could feel it pulsing in rhythm with my heartbeat. For a thirty-two-year-old man, this display of virility felt quite gratifying.

Once she finished massaging my legs, she poured lotion onto my cock and began to move her hand in rapid, rhythmic strokes. In truth, it isn't difficult to make a man surrender his defenses and finish in three minutes; one only needs to use a fast, firm stroking motion from the glans to the base. Regardless of a man's size, length, or girth, he will almost always capitulate.

As I watched her from the side, I reached out to stroke her thighs, buttocks, waist, and breasts. She was fleshy but not fat; she would likely be good in bed. Yet, she didn't offer the usual coy, teasing gestures; she simply focused on the task of working my erect member. It was strange—no one would normally pass up the chance to earn an extra 2,000 baht.

"You look so young. You must be in your early twenties?"

"Not quite that young," she teased. "You certainly know how to flatter a girl."

"Do you offer the full service?"

"We do, but not today."

"Is it your period?"

She nodded. No wonder; she just wanted to get me finished as quickly as possible to get the job done.

"How about this? I want the full service. Ask if there is another lady available," I suggested. This is a common occurrence in such establishments.

She nodded and left, not forgetting to give my cock a provocative little squeeze on her way out. There was a commotion outside, and a moment later, the madam entered, leading another lady. Since I wasn't wearing my glasses, she appeared as a blurry figure in my vision: long hair, slender, and not very tall, wearing a pink sheath dress that made her look like a high-end department store beautician.

"Sir, would you like this lady to serve you?"

"Yes, that will do."

"I'll go get ready," the lady said, her voice slightly husky.

"Sir, that will be 4,000 baht," the madam announced.

I handed the money to the madam.

"Sir, there is an additional 2,000 baht," she added.

"Why?" A flash of irritation hit me. It felt like a shakedown.

"No, no, sir. The rule for aromatherapy is that each lady receives her own fee. The base is 2,000 per lady. Since you want the full service with a second lady, the first lady gets 2,000 and the second lady gets 4,000."

"Forget it then. If that's how it is, I'm not doing it. Give me my money back, I'm leaving."

"Sir, wait a moment!" she said, sounding a bit anxious. "Let me ask her if she's willing. If she is, she'll come in. Just wait a moment."

Lying on the massage bed, the truth was that my interest had already begun to wane.

The door opened, and the lady entered. She approached my side.

"Sorry to trouble you," I said.

"It's no trouble at all," she replied, her hand gently caressing my chest. "I actually wanted to give you another massage, as every lady has a different technique."

There was something about her that set her apart from the usual women found in hotels or salons; it was hard to put my finger on it.

"You are very beautiful."

"Thank you!"

"You look like a beautician in your clothes. Are you one?"

"No, I work at a hospital. This is my uniform; I'm just here working part-time."

A part-timer! She reminded me of the classified ads in the newspaper: *Young and beautiful, student, nurse, or beautician seeking part-time work...*

"Oh, you're a hard worker!"

"What can you do?" she said, brushing a strand of hair aside. "My mother needs a private caregiver, and it costs over a thousand a day. My regular salary just isn't enough to cover it."

My heart gave a sudden tug of sympathy.

"Are you a local?"

She shook her head. "I live in Miaoli."

"Miaoli? Do you commute every day?"

"Yes. Oh, by the way, could you give me a lift to the train station later?"

"Oh," I hesitated, "sure. That's fine."

"Thank you."

It was a peculiar encounter. I watched her quietly. She stood by the bed, turned her back to me, and with unhurried grace, unclipped her hair, stepped out of her shoes, and unzipped her dress, laying the items neatly on the floor. Her bra and panties were a sexy shade of lavender-pink. She slid them off and turned back to me, her hands beginning to softly explore my body.

She was slender but perfectly proportioned. Her breasts were modest and firm, her stomach flat, and her buttocks high. She looked to be under thirty. My hand wandered from the back of her knees, up the length of her thighs. She kept her legs pressed tightly together, as if guarding the entrance to her mysterious flower.

She poured some lotion onto me, and I closed my eyes, quietly enjoying her touch.

She leaned over me, her upper body pressing against my chest and abdomen. I could feel the stimulation of her breasts and nipples against my skin—a sensation large-breasted women often cannot replicate, as they often feel merely like two soft, rolling mounds of flesh. She took my nipple gently into her mouth while her hand teased my cock.

I could tell she hadn't been in the trade long. To be honest, her tongue work wasn't as experienced as a veteran Thai girl's, but her calmness and gentleness provided a sensation unlike anything I had ever felt. Under her ministrations, my cock grew increasingly engorged.

She put a condom on me, climbed onto the massage bed, and straddled me. Using her hand to guide me, she attempted to sink my cock into her body. There was a slight friction, but she was patient. Slowly, inch by inch, she slid all the way in. Then, she lowered herself, her hips moving back and forth with a slow, rhythmic grace.

I wrapped my arms around her waist and back. As her movements grew more vigorous, I thrust my hips upward, causing her to arch slightly. I could feel my entire length buried deep within her.

She didn't behave like the usual girls who try to make a man finish in three minutes just to get it over with. Instead, she began to kiss my chest, shoulders, neck, and ears with immense tenderness. When her lips reached my cheek, a sudden urge rose within me to kiss her deeply.

In the world of the trade, there is a saying that a girl should never kiss her clients. They say that since the body has already been given to the customer, kissing would mean giving away one's soul. I had experienced this many times; no matter how much a woman moaned, how much she moved her hips, or how tightly she held you, the moment you approached her mouth, she would invariably turn her head away.

But this time, using my hand, I gently cupped her head. I licked the curve of her temple, moving slowly to her ear and then her cheek. There was no scent of hairspray, heavy makeup, or perfume—just a natural, wholesome scent that felt like home. When my nose brushed against her, there was no rejection. I kissed her lips, and our tongues became entwined.

Her saliva was abundant and had a sweet taste. Someone once said that a woman's nectar during lovemaking is like the finest ambrosia.

I was genuinely surprised that she didn't resist my intrusion. What kind of girl was she?

She pulled away from my lips and whispered softly in my ear, "Could you leave me your phone number later?"

I was stunned for a moment before answering, "Yes... of course."

Making love to her was a wondrous experience. It wasn't the usual rushed, violent release; instead, there was a profound sense of tenderness. I helped her sit up, allowing my cock to sink even deeper into her. I held her, gazing at her, though she wouldn't quite meet my eyes. As I leaned down to kiss her breasts, I realized her areolas and nipples were a stunning, delicate pink.

As my tongue teased her pink nipples, she closed her eyes, her waist arching forward and her head tilting back. Her hands gripped my back tightly, yet she made no sound.

I shifted my position to sit on the edge of the bed, holding her hips as we moved up and down. From experience, this type of thrusting often allows the glans to brush against the cervix, which is incredibly pleasurable for a woman. Her arms wrapped around my neck, and in the dim light, I saw her long hair dancing around us.

Suddenly, her pager went off, a jarring interruption to the moment. I lifted her up—she was light—keeping my cock inside her as I walked to the side of the bed to turn it off.

I stood by the bed and laid her back down, spreading and lifting her legs to thrust rapidly into her while watching her face. She didn't show much expression, her eyes drifting to the side, which stirred a sudden pang of pity in my heart.

Suddenly, she reached out her arms to me. "Hold me," she whispered.

I leaned down and pulled her into a tight embrace, ceasing the thrusting. As we held each other, I felt her vulva pulse, clenching tightly around my member.

"Does it make you sore? Are you tired?" I asked.

She shook her head, still clinging to me. A sense of reluctance to let go washed over me, and my cock began to soften slightly.

"Let's do this," I suggested. "Just use your hand to finish me."

She nodded. I stood by the bed while she lay flat, quietly caressing her body. Her skin was youthful, though there were a few small blemishes on her shoulders, likely from sun exposure. My hand wandered over her waist and hips... but as my hand moved to delve between her thighs, she offered a gentle resistance.

She turned and sat up, leaning against me, burying her head in my chest. One hand wrapped around my waist while the other began to tenderly stroke my most sensitive, excited spot.

She was nothing like the first girl who just wanted to finish the job. She wanted me to reach my climax in a state of pure, unadulterated bliss.

"Ah! Ah!" The sounds escaped me involuntarily.

The speed of her hand increased. I felt myself growing harder and more engorged... a tension rose from the base of my spine, and as the climax hit, my seed sprayed across her breasts, streaming down her waist, her abdomen, and down her thighs.