Chapter One
Smooth Handling
One rainy Friday afternoon, while taking my regular massage, a very surprising thing happened. My beautiful masseuse, Gretchen Brantwell, asked me to please remove the black pouch front briefs I wear to our sessions. She had just finished my massage, and was about to apply lavender lotion to my neck and feet.
“Kenneth, I know this sounds terribly forward of me,” Gretchen said, “but I absolutely must see your naked body, especially your p***s, which I can tell is erect.”
When she spoke these words, the body she wished to see was face down on her massage table, its head buried in the towel covering the soft, circular headrest.
I rose and pricked my ears. Had I heard her correctly? Had Gretchen actually said what I thought she said?
Glancing around the room,
