The Rub

I opened my eyes and squinted at the glowing numbers on the DVR. It was still dark, so I knew it wasn’t time to get up yet. “Don’t grab your glasses,” I thought to myself. If I grabbed my glasses to crystalize those fuzzy blobs then I would definitely be awake, and there would be no hope of getting back to sleep.

It didn’t matter. I was up now. I rolled over and fumbled my hand across the side table to find a glass of water. When I had gone to bed the room felt like a sweltering jungle, but now in the middle of the night the air was a current of ice that caused my throat to crack and rasp with each breath. I found the glass and took a sip deep enough to lubricate my throat, but not so deep as to trigger the urge to empty my bladder. If that happened I would never manage to find my way back to sleep.

“Too late,” a voice groaned inside my head. I immediately became aware of a pressure in my lower abdomen, subtle at first, but rising every moment. Knowing it would not subside; I slid my legs to the side of the bed until they got snagged a warm lump.

“Sorry Diz,” I mumbled as the dog shot his head up and gave me a look. I carefully tucked my legs in to swing the rest of the way off the bed to avoid creating a scene. Diz was hard to muster, but once you did he would decide its playtime. I was in no mood for playtime. In fact, I wasn’t even prepared to leave the room. I grabbed for the empty Gatorade bottle and unscrewed the top. Sandra was fast asleep in the master bedroom; she had come down with a horrible case of the flu three days ago and I was staying as far away from her as possible. I relegated myself to staying in what was originally designed to be a guest bedroom, but in reality had become known as “Diz’s room.”

I reached into the flap of my boxers, and felt for my cock. It felt warm in my icy hands. I snaked it out of my shorts and stuck it into the wide mouth of the bottle. Then, I let out a deep breath as my body began to relax. A wave of cozy relief washed over me as I felt a steady stream of piss pour out of me. A faint smell of ammonia rose up and gave me a dangerous feeling of taboo. Pissing in bottles was a bachelor’s game; a practice I hadn’t exercised in over three years since moving in with Sandra. But she had the bathroom on lockdown, and I didn’t want to disturb her, so I convinced myself that the bottle bathroom was as much a courtesy for her as it was a convenience for me.

The pressure in my belly gave way to a sleepy sense of relief as I finished peeing. I rubbed the tip of my penis around the bottle’s rim to clear out any stray drips of urine before tucking it back into my shorts. A slight sense of arousal made my dick rear up for a moment, but I was too tired to do anything about it now. I laid myself back onto the mattress and felt my back groan with discomfort. Our master bed was soft and oh-so comfortable, especially compared to the hard wobbly mess that was the guest bed. The legs were on wheels that rolled around the hard wood floor whenever Diz or I resettled. The once plush stuffing in the pillows were all clumped together and eroding. The first night hadn’t been too bad, but by night three it had really started to get old sleeping in this room.

As I struggled to find a comfortable position, I made the decision that I would look into getting a massage tomorrow. I needed to find some relief for my back, and I deserved a treat after days of taking care of my sick girlfriend. Then another thought popped into my head as my dick once again stirred in my shorts. “What about a happy ending massage?” I hadn’t had one of those since college, and I was sure that there were places around town that offered that kind of thing. Sandra and I hadn’t had sex in the week leading up to her illness, and I was definitely starting to feel a bit frustrated.

Gradually I drifted off back to sleep, comforted and excited by the relief and release tomorrow’s massage promised.

The next morning I made an extra effort to make Sandra comfortable before going to work. I was already starting to feel a little guilty for indulging myself to a massage while she was stuck at home suffering far worse aches than I did, and of course the thought of some stranger rubbing my cock was not something she would have been thrilled to know about. That guilt quickly evaporated once I got to work. I started researching online for the best massage shops in town. Everyone insisted that the Japanese run parlors were the absolute top spots, using creative language to hint at the services offered without coming right out and saying they were rub and tug joints. I found one that had a solid 5-star rating, as well as a name that I found to be hilarious: “Rub you Long Time.” The other big hint that it was an erotic parlor was that all the reviewers seemed to be men.

The hours dragged by as I read review after review of “satisfied” customers. As I made my way through the list of comments I found there seemed to be a trending theme. All of the most satisfied customers raved about one specific practitioner, a woman named Coco. They encouraged first time visitors who were “Looking for a surprise,” to ask for her by name. Well, I have always seen myself as an adventurous sort, so I made a mental note to ask for Coco when I arrived.

I ended up cutting out of work early after lunch. I told my boss that Sandra had taken a turn for the worse and that I would need to stop off at the store to pick up some butternut squash soup and Theraflu for her, and off I went.

I drove down to the area my town called “Little Tokyo,” and kept my eyes peeled for my destination. I started to get so excited for my massage that I could literally feel my muscles vibrating with anticipation. I slid my hands down my jeans several times, grabbing hold of my already semi-hard penis and squeezing it repeatedly until it got fully erect, then removing my hand and letting it go flaccid again. Finally, I unzipped my pants and pulled my penis through the hole in my boxers to let it breathe in the open. It felt exhilarating looking out the window of my tall SUV down into the cabs of the other, smaller cars around me. I stared at the people’s faces from the stoplight as I clutched my stick shift, knowing they had no idea I was flopping my naked member around in public. I thought about the stranger who would soon be stroking my oiled-up cock, and felt my breath catch in my throat.

I was getting too excited. I didn’t want the fun to be over before it even started, so I forced myself to stash my penis back in my pants, and resolved myself not to touch it again until I was lying on the massage table.

I drove slowly along the street, spotting several stores along the way that I remembered reading in the reviews. “Island day spa” had received some solid reviews, and I remembered reading some pretty enticing things about the table showers at “Massage Heights #4.” But, I had my heart set on discovering the surprises Coco had in store for me, so I kept moving along, scanning across countless signs and billboards as I journeyed deeper into town.

Finally, I saw a marquee sign standing tall over the sidewalk, covered in names. There was a small strip mall inset from the street, and this huge sign was there to let passersby know what shopping opportunities lay hidden off the main road. Sure enough, my hidden gem of “Rub you Long Time,” was there, about 2/3 down the list, right next to “Pho Real,” and oddly enough, “Pizza Hut.”

I pulled into the parking lot and parked my car a few rows down from the shop.