Tuesday, December 2, 2008

Going Full Frontal In India

I'd only ever had one massage before in my life. A pool-side massage in Miami.

With my bathing suit on, you see.

I'd only been in India two days and already I was not feeling well at all. I either had the remnants or beginnings of a cold OR my respiratory system had been so clogged up by Delhi's pollution in 48-short hours that I couldn't breathe and all my joints ached from the carbon monoxide build up in my blood.

Besides, my half-Indian friend told me that massages were dirt cheap in India. She said she got one every day she was here. So I booked one. I tried to talk The Boyfriend into getting one too, but he hemmed and hawed and wasn't sure.

"How about I go first and then report back to you?" I suggested.

"Perfect," he agreed.

We both have touch-issues and stranger-danger alerts in our brains, so it was probably best I sally forth. Besides, The Boyfriend's germ phobia was on high alert and I had no idea what an Indian massage parlor would hold in store for him.

"How much should I tip the massage lady?" I asked before I left.

"50 rupees," he replied.

"That's like 75 cents!"

"It's what I read is appropriate," he reminded me.

"Yeah, but you pissed off the airport chauffeur with that nonsense!"

"50 rupees," he repeated. I left but grabbed my wallet just in case.

The salon was appropriately swanky for a five-star hotel in a one-star country. Everyone smiled and nodded sweetly, and I was escorted to a plump, middle-aged woman with a beatific face and a bindi.

She took me to a small, dark room with a massage table and a pot of warming almond oil. 

"Yes, please," she indicated a folded towel resting on the table.

"Should I take off my clothes?"

"Yes, please."

"All of my clothes?"

"Yes, please," she nodded encouragingly. Then she quietly stepped out of the room.

I wondered if she meant my underpants too. I mean, "clothes" could mean "outerwear" in Hindi. What if I removed all of my clothes including my underpants and she thought I was some sort of Western whore?

I removed all of my clothes and quickly dove under the large towel. I laid there in the semi-darkness and stared at the ceiling. I could hear some sort of workers outside the window next to me. I wondered if Indian women shaved their pubic areas, or if they went full-bush?

After a polite knock at the door, my masseuse returned and quickly set about rubbing the warm oil on her hands. The room was suddenly filled with its sweet scent, and I relaxed. She politely folded the towel up over my calves and proceeded to rub the oil onto my feet and legs.

"Tsk tsk," she said. "Very dry."

"Yes, I know," I replied, apologetically. I closed my eyes wondered how much almond oil my skin would absorb? I was quite certain that little pot wouldn't make it past my knees.

Next she folded the towel again, this time exposing my thighs. I was surprised by how sore my legs were from being folded up like a patio chair on a plane for 16 hours. She folded the towel again, this time just barely covering my ladyparts.

I began to grow uncomfortable.

As she took huge swooping strokes on my upper thighs, my body froze in horror as her fingers grazed me ... there. Oh yes. There. I quickly began to wonder if I was in a "Happy Ending" situation, and wondered if a) would she ask me first and b) would it cost extra?

The matriarchal masseuse kept away at her business-like massaging of my thighs, with the occasional grazing of my, er, privates. (They're called "Private" for a reason, dammit!) I was actually relieved when she gently removed the entire towel from my person and moved on to my torso.

For some reason she covered my face with the towel.

So I lay there, buck naked, save for my face, while a middle-aged woman massaged my breasts. Having not had any massage experience aside from the pool-side, bathing-suit-clad massage, I did not know whether or not this was normal. In fact, I still don't. My arms and legs were stock straight, rigid as a corpse in the freshly fallen Detroit snow. As my masseuse slowly reached down my arms and took huge sweeping strokes up my arms, her breasts would lower and raise over my face, as the top of my head was cradled in her ample belly.

Despite all this, I began to relax. The warm room, the smell of almonds, the steady and consistent pressure of her rubbing all of the tensions and worries out of my body, I began to feel as though I was a naked embryo rocking in my mother's womb.

"Yes, please, mum" my masseuse whispered to me, and I opened one reptilian eye to see what she wanted. She held her hand out and indicated that I should rollover.


So I rolled over and exposed my white, pilates-free ass to the lesbian-suspect masseuse. Oh she rubbed my thighs, my upper thighs, my ass, my entire ass, yes she rubbed it all. She rubbed it all and I lay there naked as the day I was born, without even a towel to cover my shame-ridden face.

She rubbed it all and I liked it.

When it was over she invited me to enter a shower. I rose, naked and oily, and walked into the waiting shower. I allowed her to adjust the water temperature for me. Yes, I stood naked in a shower with another woman. I'd like to tell you I let her soap me down for the benefit of my story, but alas, she did not.

When I went to sign for the bill, I thrust a fistful of Indian rupees at my masseuse. She bowed and said thank you, mum. It wasn't the 50 rupees The Boyfriend had suggested, but more like the 500 rupees I felt was appropriate after such an intimate encounter.

Of course when I went back to the room and calculated how much 500 rupees was worth in American currency, I was embarrassed to see it was only ten dollars.

Then again, I never did get that Happy Ending.

I DID get to warn The Boyfriend, however. I knew there was no way he was putting his bare ass in the hands of a stranger, that's for sure. Then again, perhaps the promise of a Happy Ending would have swayed him?



  1. She rubbed it all and I liked it.


  2. Having your body touched like that is hypnotic. She could probably have got you to do anything ;)

  3. I LOVE a good massage. I have them every chance I get, usuually every other month or so. I had a similar experience once (in the US of A, mind you) with a more-than-lesbian-suspect masseuse I later referred to as Greta. Good for you. It's damn liberating, for serious. Happy Endings are overrated. Ok, not really.

  4. Oh, wow, pure genius! I was nearly hypnotized, it was like I was there, getting the massage. I'm glad you liked it. Sounds great, especially the almond oil.

    You are so hilariously funny, you know that? I always laugh at your posts.

  5. I go once a month for a massage. I don't know that I could relax if I was completely naked though. One guy I used to see massaged my ass while telling me how tight my glutes were. It took a few months of this before I was able to relax enough for him to stop saying it. After I did relax though it felt damn good. Who knew your ass muscles got so tight and needed to be relaxed? HA! He ended up leaving and I miss him and his ass rubs!

  6. @foxxx: I'm trying to block out the memory.

    *Rocks back and forth*

    @Just_LD: I don't even want to know ...

    @Karen: I feel less alone now that you've experienced it with me.

    *Holds your hand*

    @Ericka: "Tight glutes."


  7. That is, totally totally normal. Just thought you should know.

    Usually in America, they won't because it's such a taboo. Or they'll ask you, or try to feel it out, though probably just avoid it. But elsewhere, full body stuff is pretty routine.

    Man *sigh* I need a massage...

  8. Holy shit. Holy shit! You were able to RELAX! That's crazy and wonderful. I'll bet it was the zip code rule. You know, if a strange ethnic woman grazes your privates in another zip code, it doesn't count as infringing on your personal space.

  9. You lucky thing! I am jealous! I have had many massages and no one has ever even offered to massage my front other than arms and legs! I want a booby massage!

    Glad you had such a fabulous experience!

  10. I gotta admit, maybe its a "you had to be there" thing, but I don't think I could relax with the privates-rubbing. Breast massage? ehh no thanks.

    Then again....I've never really had a proper professional massage.

  11. I was completely hypnotised by your writing, until the seven year old yelled "Mom!" in my ear and knocked me back into my senses. Then I realised that he had been doing it for about three minutes with increasing intensity. This blog was that good.

  12. Ad Astra: Thank you for answering my question.

    McKatie: I think the change of zip code forced me to be more tolerant of nudity and social touching.

    What Was I Thinking: The Boyfriend offers to give 'em to me all the time.

    Lilly: I don't know if this was a "proper" massage or not.

    Soccer MILF: I think I love you.

  13. Thanks ma'am! My butt muscles miraculously unclenched as I read on, envious and dreamily imagining the almond oily butt massage. Oooooh yeah. You lucky nut.

  14. I get massages once a month or I try to. I do get to keep my panties if I want to but she never rubbed my bum ... I bet i would like it but definitively not with her ... *shivers*. She looks like a Mom. *Get that thought out of my head* I am glad you like it.

  15. Breast massage is not normal..no mater what someone answered earlier. maybe in India it is. The rest is normal.

    Too bad it wasn't a hot chick..;)

  16. I was absolutely mesmerized by your telling of the blissful massage.

    I've had two massages other than having my back done in physical therapy. One was at a day spa (which I found to be a filthy place) on Orchard Lk. It was my first massage and it was all right. No boobies, no glutes, or other bits. Once she was done the girl stuck her hand under the sheet I was covered with and patted my tummy?! WTF?? weird. The second was at the Beverly Hills Racquet Club and it was heaven. The girl was an athlete and she asked before she touched and explained everything she needed to do. So the ass relaxed, and the boobies educated and happy!

    Glad you let her touch you!


  17. So good. Sooo fucking funny.

    I do love a good ass rub. Yes I do.

  18. I love massages. They're one of the finer things in life. The bf should have gone though. I've been massaged many times and no one has ever touched my ass or privates. And I always keep my underwear on. Use caution though: Wondering about the personal hygiene habits of chubby, middle-aged women can cause your head to explode.
    ~Mickey Joe~

  19. My most hated Aunt is a massuese, yes, the butt and boobies are massaged, but they normally ask you first.

    Noooootttttt me.


  20. M,
    I am a LMT. I have only done boobies once at the request of a customer in a swanky spa in Sedona.

    If that ever happens in the USA it is considered inappropriate by American standards.

    I got a massage at the Four Seasons in Costa Rica. Palo was good and never once did he cross the safety sheet or see my naughty bits.

    But I wanted it. Yes, I wanted it bad.

  21. I'm wondering if you would have liked it more or less if your ass were not pilates-free. On the one hand, you would have been less self-conscious. On the other hand, you would have been less *pliable*.

    It's probably a wash.

  22. *is a professional massage therapist and shakes head*..........I have lots of stories.


  23. I've only had one massage (complimentary) in Tampa Bay, Florida during a conference I was working at/attending. I'm pretty sure the man wanted to touch my privates.

  24. "...rigid as a corpse in the freshly fallen Detroit snow."

    pure poetry!


  25. I am TOTALLY shocked that you didn't spray windex onto your "ladyparts" afterwards. :-)


  26. I'm such an elitist. I'd want a super hot person rubbing me all over. I know, I know. I'm a shallow, vain individual. But at least I own it.

  27. Mary (Crone): "You lucky nut" makes me laugh. I'm going to steal it.

    WWTDA: I like "like" is debatable.

    Captain Cocktail: You're a boy. You don't know!

    Deb: I'm glad I mesmerized you. I was half-mesmerized, half-traumatized by the experience myself.

    Muddy: I am to make ya'll laugh.

    Mickey Joe: It's over now. I'd rather not look back and wonder.

    Fi: I wasn't asked nothin'.

    Nice Peace: *Laugh* You slay me.

    Smarty Pants: I don't think it would have made a difference. I was paralyzed by the whole experience.

    Bangin': Greens.

    Helly: I'm sure you were telepathically willing him to do it.

    Hoozat: I was rather pleased with that image.

    Lindsay: There isn't enough Windex in the whole wide world to make India streak-free.

    6FM: You have a bizarre definition of hot. Perv.

    X012: I didn't know you could choose.

  28. Now for the rest of the story:
    So you know next time: the germ phobia is a thing of the past in India. The mist throughout Delhi
    is a giant germ/bug bomb combo.
    Kills all germs on contact.
    No need for Windex...how cool
    a country looking after your health...and it's free.
    Great blog. Thanks.

  29. Just wait til you get a massage by a hotty.

  30. I've missed reading your blogs - caught the two re:myspace ads - I thought they were only targeting us fatties. I'm so relieved you slim gals get the same lame ads. lol

    RE: boob rub down. Since my accident I've had a lot of massage. I guess the breasts have a lot of glands and what not and in many countries are rub to stimulate the flow of blocked fluids. I've never experienced it - thank god they ask 1st!

    My massage-therapist friend uses the "therapeutic benefits" to extend foreplay with her man. tells him it's good for her health. lol

    Happy blogging!