She was a massage parlor girl and I knew it, but I believed her when she assured me she didn't have sex with customers. Then one day, on an unannounced visit to her massage parlor, I discovered evidence of what I now know to be "panty sex". It was one of the darker moments of my life, and it has taken me years to reach a point where I can tell the story of how I discovered my massage parlor girl had an unusual definition for "sex".
That's the email I got from George (his real name) who a few years ago lived in New Jersey and frequented a well-known New Jersey massage parlor (now long closed). I met George in Chicago, in a massage parlor. He wanted panty sex, which I had never heard of at that time. I was working in an asian massage parlor in Chicago, which is very rare, and I was a white girl, which to me was really strange but to George was "typical - can't get good asian pussy in Chicago massage parlors" or so he said.
So George introduced me to a popular fetish among Internet porn lovers - "panty sex". Panty sex is sexual intercourse while wearing panties. The girl wears her panties and the guy pulls them aside and does the deed anyway. Some guys like the panties tight, while some guys pull them practically off. Some like the feeling of the friction; others dream of no-permission sexual activities, and still others like the visual imagery, especially when they pull out and drop their load upon the fabric of the panty. In my limited experience with the panty sex fetish, guys like black lace (for the ocntrast of their manly emissions when they pull out and deposit them) and plain off-white cotton (which becomes shear when wet). Whatever.. it's a fetish, right?
That long ago day when George told me of his fetish for panty sex, he said he discovered it himself the hard way - by discovering his girlfriend had been doing it for customers. THAT was so intriguing to me, I insisted he write me the story. He never did... until now. I got this email today. I will post part of it now, and then I need to edit some more and post the rest. See my note at the end for details of that.
We always had an understanding that she would not do actual sex with customers, although it was pretty clear to me that she did handjobs and wanted to be free to do that. She was very much against oral sex with men, except under the cleanest conditions, so I didn't worry about that although I knew there were a free regular customers that could have gottenthat from her wihtout too much trouble. When you date a massage parlor girl you accept some aspects of it. One way to accept her is to set limits, and one limit was no sex (meaning intercourse). We had agreed, and according to her, it wasn't much of a special request because, according to her demeanor, that wasn't much of a sacrifice on her part. Or so I thought.
Another unstated agreement was that good boyfriends of massage parlor girls do not show up unexpectedly at the place of business. I know... flags go up when you think of that rule combined with the "no sex" rule, but like I said, you already make compromises when you acept that your girlfriend is someone elses for-hire girlfriend. Anyway, I followed that rule, mostly. One day I stopped by unannounced, coming in through the back door.
It was quiet, the room doors were all closed, but no one was in the waiting area up front. I slipped into the kitchen area and had a look around. I admit I like the "thrill" of being in a bordello... knowing illicit stuff was going on all around me. I would often press my ear against the wall and listen to the little sex sounds the girls made when they were "trying to be quiet" whle being pounded. Many times I heard the swish-swish-swish of the heavy lotioned handjob. It all turned me on in a way. I also liked to check out the laundry pile and notice the little washcloths soaked in semen. I know.. gross, but actually, picking it up by a corner and holding it up to the light, it was obvious which ones had received an ejeculation, vs. lotion or hand washing or back washingor whatever. Again... just a turn on to know the girls were drawing out the equivalent of quarts of community semen every day, and a little bit of a challenge to me to see if my little honey was responsible for any of that. More than once I had watched her toss her client rags into that bin, and each time I innocently memorized exactly which rag was her so i could check it later when she wasn't around. I never found any with forensic evidence on it. Odd, yes, but maybe... just maybe she actually didn't release her customers. Whatever. I checked and she probably knew that anyway.
But on this day I saw something new on the laundry pile. On top, not rolled up, was a pair of her panties. I knew them... they were really hers, not stage clothes or costume panties most of the massage girls wore. These were thereal cottonpanties I had removed from her body on many occasions. Bingo, I thought. I would snatch me a pair of her dirty undies and she would never know. So I picked them up. Plain as day, front and center, right over the fabric that would normally cover her spoft white underbelly just north of her snatch, was a large round wet spot.
Now there is no reason that this area would be wet in a circle like that. It wa sfar from where her moistness would appear on dirty panties. It was round and wet, while the rest of the panty was fresh and clean. The spot was almost shear from being wet. I couldn't stop myself, so I sniffed it. WOW. Fresh semen soaked.
Now I can't explain this in any way. They were hers. They were in the laundry at the massage parlor. They were wet with fresh semen, in one spot on her underbelly. I put them back into the pile.
When she finished her customer and came out, she was surprised but not upset to see me. She had her post-customer white washcloth rag with her, which she tossed it onto the laundry pile. As she did that, I noticed that she noticed the panties, and she moved them down the pile s if she was cleaning up the pile. As usual I memorized the location of that rag. She had noticed her panties...and pushed them down the pile. That was all I needed to see. She knew they were hers. She knew they were "evidence". She wanted them out of sight. What she didn't know was that I could still smell the fresh semen on them, lingering in my nose. As she left the room to escort her customer out the door, I checked the rag and it was clean. I took the panties and placed them into my coat pocket. I alked out the door, telling the cleaning lady smoking outside to tell her I went for smokes and wouldbe right back. I hurried to my car....
Note to readers: you can encourage me to edit and post the rest of this story by leaving a commnet telling me how much you would like that. THANKS!
