Tales From The Wise Sloth: My First Massage

I enlisted in the U.S. Air Force in the year 2000. After 6 months of training I was sent to my first duty station, Aviano Air Force Base, Italy. A year or so later, I met a wonderful, beautiful Italian girl who I nicknamed “Pulcina.”

I got a 3-day weekend pass for New Years of 2002. So Pulcina convinced me to take a nice vacation to Lake Bled in Slovenia. We rented a bed and breakfast from a polite Slovenian couple who gave us a soft bed and standard cheese and meat breakfasts.

It didn’t take long to walk all around town, visit all the tourist shops, and take a ferry to the cathedral on the island in the middle of the lake. The entire experience was majestic, but since our vacation took place in the dead of winter, we were freezing stiff the whole time.

Fortunately, while driving to and from the tourist sites, we kept passing a large hotel that advertised they had a swimming pool inside. We both knew European hotels would often allow the public to use their pool for a small fee, and we were desperate for that summer time feeling relief from the oppressive Slovenian winter. In fact, we predicted we’d have this chance and both brought bathing suits. So, on the final day of our vacation, we drove back to our hostel, picked up our swim gear, and drove to the hotel.

When we arrived at the reception desk we were told it would only cost a few Euros to use their pool area for the day. Being in Eastern Europe, that didn’t surprise us. What did, was that the hotel also offered 1 hour massages for $20.

I’d never had a massage before, but I’d always wanted one, and I knew I needed one. Since the price was irresistible, I bought one for myself and Pulcina. The front desk lady told us there was a waiting list. So we would have to go play in the swimming pool for an hour. Then, I would get my massage, and afterwards, Pulcina would get hers. Frankly, the timing was perfect.

So, after an hour, I got out of the pool, dried off, and headed to my appointment. I entered a small room, barely larger than a closet, and was greeted by the hottest 48-year old Slovenian MILF in history. She spoke to me in Slovenian, and I humbly confessed that I only spoke English. She immediately switched to speaking perfect English and made some small talk. After the pleasantries were over, she got down to business and informed me how the massage would proceed.

She told me I couldn’t wear my bathing suit on the table since it was wet from swimming. So I would have to undress before the session began. However, we were basically standing in a closet, and there wasn’t any changing room. I looked around for a place to undress, and when I brought my eyes back to the Slovenian MILF questioningly, she just stared back at me stoically. I thought to myself, “Hey this is Europe. They don’t care about nudity. I guess I’m just supposed to get naked.”

Cautiously though, I put my thumbs on the waist band of my bathing suit and motioned like I was going to push them down. As I did so, I made eye contact with the Slovenian MILF and raised my eyebrows. I could tell she understood what I was asking, and she simply stared back at me impatiently.

Comprehending the situation, I thought, “Fuck it. I’m on vacation.” Then I pulled my swim shorts down in front of her, fully exposing my manhood, which was cold from the swimming pool. Her stoic expression barely cracked with a sly grin as I hopped onto the massage table and covered myself with with the white sheet.

I didn’t get a “happy ending,” but she gave me the best massage I’ve ever had in my life, and I’ve worked as a massage therapist for the past four years. So I’ve had hundreds of massages. I compare all of them to hers, and I will never be able to replicate the perfection of her coconut-crushing hands.

After she finished fixing everything wrong with my life, I slid off the table, pulled my shorts back on while she watched, and then went back to the pool area. I informed Pulcina it was her turn. Then I melted into the hot tub as I watched her slosh towards the massage room.

After her massage was over, we packed up our stuff in the car and headed back to our bed and breakfast. As I was driving, I looked over to her in the passenger seat and asked, “How was your massage?”

“Fine.” She replied.

Casually, I added, “European massages are weird though… for an American.”

“How is that?” Pulcina asked.

I answered, “Well, you know…. the massage therapist said I had to take off my shorts since they were wet from swimming, but there wasn’t a changing room. So I had to get completely naked right in front of her while she watched. In America, we don’t just get naked in front of other people.”

Pulcina snapped her head towards me, and her eyes turned red as she screamed, “Turn this car around! I’ll keeeel herrrr! She did not tell me to take off my bathing suit at all!!!! I had more clothes on than you, and they were more wet than your shorts! That fucking beeeeetch!!!!”

I laughed all the way back to the bed and breakfast.

If you liked this post, you may like these also:

My Life Stories (in chronological order)

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