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Erotic Massage Parlours Barton Blount

It was a cool, drizzly night as I browsed through the cobblestone streets of the ancient Eastern European city. I was shivering, both from the severe weather and the anticipation of what waited for. My consultant had advised a distinct massage parlour nestled amidst the historic centre; a facility renowned for its art, as much as its extravagance.

I had been taking a trip for weeks, exploring the huge area of the mystical continent. My body hurt from the constant motion and the cold that had begun to embed in; I required revitalization.

The parlour, called 'The Recovery Place,' was a traditional stone structure embellished with ivy. A mild, warm radiance emanated from inside, inviting, basically whispering to me, "Come inside." As I pushed open the heavy oak door, a gust of warm, aromatic air engulfed me. The mellow noise of sitar music coupled with the soft citrusy-woodsy fragrance offered the place an uncommon, trance-like aura.

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The receptionist, a small lady with dove-like eyes, invited me with a warm smile, ushering me towards a small, dimly lit space where I was to wait for my masseur.

As I waited, I unraveled the heavy layers of clothing, letting the warmth of the room seep into my skin. In the middle of the soothing asian music, I could make out the soft dripping sound of water from a neighboring water fountain.

After what appeared like a heavenly time out, the door creaked open. A high, lean figure actioned in, introducing himself as Dimitri, my masseur. He had a calm, relaxing voice that added to the relaxing ambiance.

As I put down on the table, a sheet barely hiding my modesty, Dimitri started with his magic. His hands were warm and company, a plain contrast to the biting cold outside. The dim, warm candlelight cast shadows on the rustic stone walls, making it a surreal world, far from the ordinary.

He began my massage slowly, working his method through my wearied shoulders to my aching back. His hands operated in rhythm, putting in pressure, launching, moving - it seemed like a synchronized dance of his fingers on my back. I sighed audibly, and Dimitri whispered, "Relax.".

An hour passed, maybe two, I could hardly inform. The room was so warm, the music so lulling, his touch so relaxing, and the really air tasted like serenity. It healed, relaxed, and liberated me more than I 'd ever thought possible.

Bell-like chimes stirred me awake. Dimitri carefully notified me that my session was over. He left the space, enabling me a couple of private minutes to relish the aftermath of an extraordinary experience.

As I ignored 'The Healing Place,' I carried with me a sense of complete satisfaction, a newfound regard for the art of massage. It was magic; it was an intimate dance, a poetry of touch that can transform a weary tourist into a revitalized soul.

This is my memory of an evocative evening that led me to taste a piece of sensuous harmony. I welcome you to open your mind to explore the sensual world of massage parlours and allow yourself the extravagance of a life time. We're travelers in this large area of life, aren't we all seeking some healing?

Thai Nuru Massage Barton Blount

 

The Tranquility of Serendipity - A Thai Massage Tale.

Long years of laboring behind a desk had actually left a permanent crescent-shaped curve on my spinal column. A little into my thirties, stiff neck, and back pains were becoming a more detailed buddy than any pet might ever be. Thus, on the suggestion of a well-meaning friend, and overcoming my doubt, I discovered myself in front of the humble wood façade of the renowned "Bangkok Sanctuary", a Thai massage parlor hid in the dynamic heart of the city.

As I stepped in through the ornately sculpted entrance, I was enveloped in a calm wave of lemongrass-scented air. It cushioned the city's brusque temperament, giving way for the harmony that Thai establishments are understood for. I was welcomed by Sayuri, her silver-kissed hair nicely tied up, a glowing smile played on her lips and her eyes sparkled with the understanding just experience brings.

Assisted into a dimly lit room ornamented with faintly flickering candle lights and the calming whispering of a bamboo waterfall, I was paralleled into another world. The air was ripe with the earthy aroma of important oils, and soft important music feathered through the silence, lulling my senses to calmness.

Decked in a loose set of thick cotton pants and a t-shirt, as is traditional for a Thai massage, I put down on the mat, gazing at the elaborate Asian art work on the ceiling. A ripple of anxiety chomped at me, but Sayuri's ultimate Thai amiability eased my chaos.

As the massage started, I could feel professional hands working their magic. Fingers pushing and kneading into tight muscles, periodically fulfilling a knot where all the tension coagulated. My breath hitched as those tender knots were kneaded up until they dissipated into nothingness.

She was a storyteller-- each pull, twist, and turn felt like a page torn from a tale, releasing its secrets. I was caught off guard when she began using her elbows and feet too, extending my body with the accuracy so characteristic of Thai massages. The pushing of her feet versus my back split open the surprise vaults of quelched stress, and each crack brought forth a wave of relief.

The heat of the oils leaking into my skin, the balanced pressure alternating in between calming and intense, together with the oriental music that played in the background-- whatever co-existed in orchestrated harmony. Each movement of Sayuri's hands shook loose a bunch of pent-up memories, feelings, and crises, making my physical body feel lighter and my soul feel unburdened.

And after that, the grand finale. Sayuri moved to abrade my scalp with verve and vigor. It was as if every staying worry, every lingering idea, was unknotted from my head, floating into the ether to oblivion.

As those hauntingly mundane ninety minutes etched to an end, I was a brand-new male, cleansed of the stress dogging my life, one knead at a time. The stiffness in my neck that was an unwelcome tenant for years, made a peaceful exit, leaving in its wake, newly found versatility and relief.

The sound of sand dripping in an hourglass snapped me back to reality. I increased from the mat, my body humming its gratitude, my mind cleared of its fog. Appreciation welling up in my heart, I thanked Sayuri, her eyes showing understanding and satisfaction.

Accidental as it was-- my venture into that Thai massage parlor left me a changed individual -an introduction to an alternative dimension of relaxation that neither wealth nor materialism could match. It became my escape, my journey towards self-discovery, and a testimony to the healing power of touch. An extraordinary experience certainly!

Keep in mind - All of us seek solace, and in some cases it comes in the unlikeliest of places, like the Bangkok Sanctuary - a simple, yet fascinating Thai massage parlor in the heart of a boisterous city.

My consultant had actually recommended a distinct massage parlour nestled amidst the historic centre; an establishment renowned for its art, as much as its indulgence.

I invite you to open your mind to check out the sensuous world of massage parlours and allow yourself the indulgence of a lifetime. On the suggestion of a well-meaning buddy, and overcoming my doubt, I discovered myself in front of the humble wood façade of the prominent "Bangkok Sanctuary", a Thai massage parlor tucked away in the busy heart of the city.

I was captured off guard when she started utilizing her feet and elbows too, extending my body with the accuracy so characteristic of Thai massages. Unintentional as it was-- my venture into that Thai massage parlor left me an altered person -an intro to an alternative dimension of relaxation that neither wealth nor materialism could match.





 



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