Studio 49

[Knowledge Is Power]

Thanks Gentlemen.

 

[BruceMillerr]

Bravo sir. BRAVO!

tydb-

 

[Crystal Gayle]

Wow, kingotis, that was some post. Hats off (or in massageplanet parlance, "BB") to you.

 

[Zia]

Dr. Seuss gets a handjob at its finest!!!!

BK150

 

[mistify]

Some days, it's good to be the king. Others...not so much. Yesterday was a not so much. Something about the time between Thanksgiving and Christmas feels like a long, slow setup for a sucker punch. The air gets thin and crisp and you're lulled into a false sense of security.

Then one afternoon you're walking somewhere with purpose and you get distracted by a window display. You stop and stare as a toy train circles a fake pine tree and your ears are filled with some folk mass peace on earth goodwill toward whoever bullshit and you feel yourself relax and before you know what's happened you're being hustled in and out of obligatory holiday crap at work and at home. You're spending your handjob money on presents for relatives. All of that builds to a crescendo and finally on New Years Eve you wind up with your head in the toilet and something sticky on your shoes that will never disappear no matter what you do.

Every man, every woman likes Christmas a lot. But Otis, that Grinch, damned right, he did not.

Walking across town yesterday, that thin crisp air was in evidence and the hair on the back of my neck stood up when I felt it. Clearly I needed to take action and get my clocks cleaned.

In the depth of my mind I had an idea. This Grinch got a wonderful, awful idea.

Conveniently, I found myself in the vicinity of Studio 49. The place is perched precariously above a fast food chain restaurant. The neon glow from the second floor window warmed my heart and I turned the doorknob and hit the stairs.

One flight up I found a perfectly nice, clean place with private rooms. I ponied up the $70 for the house, Mamasan brought me down the hall, and I made myself at home. The massage rooms do have doors, however, they're the paper sliding kind and are obviously no noise barrier. There is a table shower, which does have that mildew-infused disinfectant table shower smell that ought to be bottled and marketed as a fragrance for the wives of mongers looking to inject some excitement back into the marriage. The entrance leaves little or no ambiguity as to where you've been, if you're one to worry about someone seeing you hit the sidewalk. Those are fairly minor drawbacks - on the whole it's a nice, well-maintained place.

All the rooms were quite dark. No one knew I was there. All my friends were all working away in Times Square. Then we came to a room, and she left me in there.

I was handed off to Mimi, who is in her forties I would guess, about five feet tall and in good shape. Nice little teacup titties and the outstanding ass that is the birthright of every Asian woman. She looked good - she had on nice clothes and makeup and those cheap open-toe high heel "shoes" they wear to look 2 inches taller.

She gave a nice table shower - and that means something coming from me, I'm really not a fan of infantilizing shit like table showers that justifies itself in the name of "pampering." Hell, the word "pampering" itself feels like the verb form of a diaper brand name. But Mimi made it sort of fun...by soaping my ass crack repeatedly and then doing the same courtesy to the expanding franchise that of my cock.

Then back to the massage table - my comfort zone, if I have one, being the sort of self-denying schmuck who seems to thrive and flourish in situations of discomfort.

An average massage ensued. Mimi had good strong hands, she just never really hit that groove, that place where it approaches a blissful kind of poetry and the hands seem to go to the right places on their own and do the right thing when they get there.

I was ready to flip, to turn in a pinch. To feel those strong hands on the front of the Grinch...

Hot towel on the back, lights went dim, out of traction and back in action. She leaned over, licked the outside of my ear and whispered for me to turn over. I never deny a lady her requests, so naturally I obliged. She ran her tongue down my chest and briefly sent an anticipatory jolt through my chest which had me looking for the nearest defibrillator when, unprompted and unannounced, she went ahead and started licking my balls.

Then slowly it happened just as they say, the Grinch's small cock grew three sizes that day.

Yeah, I was pretty fucking hard all right. She oiled up the hand and touched me nice and slow. With her other hand she rubbed my taint and my balls. I gently rubbed her ass and then felt her nice little breasts through the bra. She was kind enough to help me avoid complications and she pushed that bra right out of the way and pulled her shirt up, giving me access to her lovely hard nipples.

I felt things speeding ahead a bit, but if there's one thing I know about myself it's that I will never be mistaken for a premature ejaculator. Mimi, it seems, may have psychic powers. She must have sensed that this was gonna be an arm-wrecker and I guess wanted to hasten things along. Down came the pants and the panties together and I felt my way slowly down her ass to my destination. I touched her wet pussy with my finger and she pushed herself downward, so that it was buried inside her. As she jacked me off without missing a single beat, stroke or half-step, she ground up back and forth on my hand.

Yeah, that did the trick. She gave a good final salvo of fast strokes and I gave her a dna sample that could feed a family of four.

She cleaned up, got me a dixie cup of cold water and tried to help me get dressed. I waved her off with a smile and dressed myself like a big boy. She gave me the obligatory ooh / ahh over my shoes, and I gave her the obligatory tip - 60 bucks, because she went an extra half mile to make me happy. 40 would have been fine but suddenly I felt generous.

I stepped out on the sidewalk and watched the passers by, men and women who had not had the joy of a massage and a hand job that day and yet somehow, they weren't sad. They were smiling.

They smiled without oil, they smiled without lotion. They smiled without hands in an up and down motion.

I pondered this thought that I could not ignore. Maybe handjobs, I thought, would turn into a bore. Maybe happiness can't be bought in a store. Maybe Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more.

 

[dfeptuliioeivzeqr]

Thanks for the review Kert!!

Here is the link to all their ads on BP and a copy of the most recent!!..............

http://newyork.backpage.com/BodyRubs/?keyword=Studio%2049%20212-888-4977&layout=detailed

 

[Jilly Logans]

I didn't see any info on this one saw I thought I would post a review. Keep in mind my frame of reference is with out of state AMPs for the most part, and we're usually happy if the attendant is below 40...

The ad said "grand opening" and the place was new and very clean, on the 2nd flr. Had a great session with yoko (I think that was the name), great TS, and a very enthusiastic HE. From what I'm used to, an A+... .70 house and I was very satisfied, so I left a .6 tip. I didn't get the sense this was a fs place at all, but the girls were cute, not too old, and a nice attitude.

I would recommend...