Thai Massage Horror

Our last days in Bangkok were spent shopping at MBK and various other markets, including the backpacker ghetto of the Kho San road, picking up birthday presents and such like. We also had a wonder about, and seen the Reclining Buddha at Wat Po- a 30 foot behemoth of a statue of Buddha, painted in gold leaf in the most ornate surroundings I've ever seen.

Our last night was spent drinking, like all travellers, up and down the Kho San road, chatting to other travellers. We finished up in our favorite bar in Bangkok, where I got comfortably pissed listening to Addy, a talented guitarist and singer we listened to when we first arrived in Bangkok. Surprisingly he recognised us, and played some of our favorite songs, and came over to shake my hand and say goodbye when his set was over.

Today, our final day in Thailand, Mrs Grasshopper decided to get her hair done, and urged me to have a massage.

Now I'm not much of a massage person (unless its my missus doing it of course!), but aching from injuries, bruises and strains, I relented and went while she got pampered in the salon. It was only 250 Baht for an hour, in a place we seen the previous day. It was above a resturant on the Kho San, but very professional looking and a world away from the dubious massage parlours of Nana Plaza, Patpong and the like. I chose an oil massage, figuring I'd prefer the relaxing deep tissue manipulation over the sadistic submission wrestling of traditional thai massage.

Now I was always a bit concerned about getting a massage, that I might, erm, "respond" shall we say. I'm a bloke after all. What if being half naked and rubbed all over by a pretty, slim, thai girl with delicate fingers causes an embarrassing, erm, "uprising"?....

... I needn't have worried.
My masseuse for the day was Shreks long-lost sister. Older, bigger, ugly-stick beaten sister. (Who clearly enjoys weight lifting as much as eating.)

"Take clothes off!" She says (booms) cheerfully as she shuts the curtains around me. She comes back a few minutes later to find me sitting on the mattress in my boxer shorts, looking slightly uncomfortable.

"All clothes off!" She laughs, and disappears (which was impressive for a girl her size). I duly removed my shreddies and wrapped myself in a towel. She reappears, whips the towel off me and flips me face-down onto the mattress.

"No problem!" She says (bellows) laughing.

Now the massage was initially very nice. As her ham-like fingers pushed my muscles up my back, my hair stood on end and I could feel myself drifting off to sleep. Then she starts digging her elbows in, with her full tonnage behind them. My eyes shoot open as I feel my ribs popping and seperating from my spinal column. Elbows are for fighting with! I think to myself, as she crushes a disk in my back. Then she starts on the back of my thighs with her huge hands.

Ahhh, now THAT is nice! I close my eyes again as she expertly manipulates my hamstrings, up from knee to buttock.

Was that her finger?! My eyes blink open in alarm as my scrotum shrivels up in shock and fear at her flicking finger. Maybe it was an accident, I think, and close my eyes.

She does it again!

"OK?" she asks, this time deliberately tickling my receding man-sack.

"Um, er, ha ha!" I respond fearfully, and push myself further up the mattress, away from the offending digit. She giggles, (making the floor tremble slightly) and continues massaging the back of my thighs. She does it faster and harder. I then start to seriously worry she's going to slip, and one of her banana sized fingers will bury its self in my back passage.

Thankfully my back is soon over. She flips me onto my front and I shyly try to cover my still-terrified todger.

"No Problem!" She laughs again "I see many many man penis!" throwing a towel over my groin.

I let go of my willy and put my hands by my sides, feeling foolish.

She then whips off the towel, and stares at my dick!

"Ooh, very good!" She says, patting it with an enormous finger and then quick-firing thai to one of the girls outside the curtain. The unseen thai girl replies, giggling. Are they laughing at me?

I'm aware I haven't trimmed my man-patch for some time, and my petrified "old-boy" feels like he's disappeared into my stomach.

I look down.

It resembles a white handkerchief in a thorn bush. A small white hanky at that.

They must be laughing.

She leans forward and whispers; "Men like massage round here" pointing around my groin. "You like, yeah?" She puts a colossal finger to her lips. "Shhhh! special massage!"

Is she offering to.....? I shake my head furiously, "Um, no, er, not at all, thank you, er, I'm married, er, no, no need" I stammer.

And petrified, a voice in my head says.

"Ohhhh, ok...." She says, looking crestfallen. "I like foreign man, very good, very big. And hairy here." She first pats my winky and then rubs my moderatly hairy chest. "Special massage yes?"

"No. It's fine thanks, no massage there" I croak.

"Ok, if you want" She says with apparent disappointment. She then pinches my penis affectionately before covering me again with the towel. Then she belches, and I can suddenly smell garlic.

For F---ks sake! I think to myself.

The rest of the massage was pretty OK, though I was amazed my shoulders were able to take her full weight, as she leans down onto me, grunting garlic in my face and making the floor tremble.
The massage finished with a face massage, which was surprisingly good. Then she started punching me repeatedly on the forehead. What the F--k!

When she said it was over I dressed quickly, and almost fell down the stairs on the way out- my legs were like jelly. I couldn't tell if it was from the massage or the blows to the head making me concussed.

Me and Mrs Grasshopper met up again at our hotel, where she finds me writing this. We're gonna get lunch, have a nap, then shower and change into our travelling clothes for our overnight flight to Sydney.

I don't know if I will be able to sleep though. Not after that massage.