“Hi there, hope you’re having a wonderful Thursday. I just spend the better part of my morning reading one of your diary entries for the first time and just wanted to say you have an absolutely amazing way with words and imagery. It almost felt like what i was reading was too intimate and I was intruding on something amazing between two people. Have a lovely day x”
I was stunned. Such a beautiful, and articulate, message to receive in my DMs. Reading it again now takes my breath away. Not only was it wonderfully complimentary but it was so nice to know that I’d achieved the kind of detail required to put someone, mentally in the room, watching and listening to what was going on. I replied to thank her and tell her how beautiful it was to read.
“You’re very welcome. You can tell you’re very passionate from your writing. I just wanted to make sure you knew the effect it was having.”
Oh she was good! The “effect” is exactly what I wanted my readers to experience. Obviously, I immediately checked out her page. It was as beautiful and sensual as her initial message. It looked like she didn’t post often but when she did it was sexy, yet artistic photos of her gorgeous form, draped in lacy lingerie and the shadows of a dimly lit bedroom. It gave off classy boudoir vibes. I was impressed and felt a buzz of excitement. After all, she could have read my work, loved it, and not said anything. She could have sent the first message and not engaged with my reply. I messaged again to keep the conversation going.
“Well, I’m flattered to receive that kind of feedback from anyone, let alone a gorgeous woman with such a good eye (and posing) for sensual art,” I wrote.
Smooth, right? I hoped so.
“Oh now you flatter me. Thank you so much,” Natalie replied, along with a couple of emojis; one shy, the other with an innocent halo.
We exchanged messages, chatting about her photos, about my posts, including my photography, showering each other with compliments.
“You have a very good eye,” she wrote. “Combined with your story telling, you’re quite the package.”
I felt pursued. It was exciting and flattering. I told her as much.
“You seem to have numerous qualities worth flattery,” she responded.
Now, it’s one thing to win the attention of a sexy woman and quite another altogether to have her taking the lead in the flirting stakes. But it was even more than that. Natalie was a beautiful, early 30s, professional, who was artistic, articulate, and wondefully polite. She had my attention and was pressing all my buttons. I dared to get excited about where this might lead. I wanted to know more about her. I wanted to understand her thinking, her turn ons, what made her reach out to me. I asked her which diary entry she’d read and what she specifically liked about it.
“I started with Angela. It seemed the most relatable when I was reading through the titles. And, oh my goodness, I was not disappointed” she wrote. “I don’t know how I’m going to handle the others.”
She went on to tell me she related to Angela’s “shy demeanor, the submissiveness, wanting to please.” She sparked my imagination. Then she sunk her hooks in deeper with “she’s a very lucky girl from what I read.”
Looking back on the messages now, I realise just how much she was coming onto me. In my memory, I’d won her over with my charming banter but now it was obvious she’d come after me. Either way, my mind was racing. As we continued to chat it kept going back to those sensual photos, with glimpses of her body, that long flowing hair. My mouth was watering. I wanted to get my hands on her. I wanted to write her diary entry.
“You’re so politely cheeky,” I told her.
“Politely cheeky girl-next-door is kind of my thing,” she replied.
I smiled.
“May I ask where you’re from?” I asked, with fingers crossed, before adding “Assuming you’d consider a massage, doing a photoshoot, or even just grabbing a coffee sometime.”
She told me she’d recently moved interstate. She was born and raised in a city I visit every few months but recently earned a job promotion and had moved away from family and friends to a city much further away. My heart sank.
“But if you’re ever in town, I’d be very interested,” she added.
I took a deep breath and let it out slow. Her invitation was bitter sweet; nice to read but unfortunately, highly unlikely to every happen. I thanked her, explained I never got to her city for work. I asked her to let me know if she ever came to mine or even if she traveled elsewhere, hopeful that one day we might cross paths.
We kept in touch. She’d message comments on my posts. I’d do the same on her’s. She was clever, complimentary, and very sexy. I really enjoyed our chats. It was disappointing that we’d likely never meet.
And then one day, I posted that I was traveling for work. I had a conference to attend interstate; in her birth state. The conference was on Tuesday and Wednesday but I’d oragnised some work while I was there on Monday. I’d fly in on the Sunday night, work, attend the conference, and maybe even fit in some side hustle massages, after hours.
“I think we’re going to be in the same city, at the same time, next month,” Natalie messaged when she saw my post.
I could almost hear her excitement. Once again, I was flattered and excited. With a rush of adrenaline I messaged her right back. It turned out she was flying back to see her family and catch up with some friends. Amazing. Maybe it was going to happen after all.
“I fly home sometime on the Sunday but I haven’t booked my flight yet,” she wrote.
Damn! I had something on that day and couldn’t fly until the afternoon. I wouldn’t be there until early evening. She explained she had to get back to her new home because she had an early start on the Monday. The prospect of any meet up slipped through my fingers. So close but obviously not meant to be. My adrenaline crashed and my heart sank again. Natalie was disappointed too. I racked my brains as to how I could reorganise my Sunday so I could get their earlier.
“I need to rearrange my flight,” I said, not wanting to pass up the opportunity to meet her.
“I think my support for that idea might be a little biassed,” she wrote “but I think that would be wonderful.”
I smiled again. I told her I’d check out options and get back to her.
“If you can’t shuffle Sunday, I could look at an early Monday flight and be a little late for work,” she wrote.
Adrenaline spike again! That was amazing. Once again, I felt flattered that she’d do that for me.
We chatted over the coming days. I made a slight tweak to my travel plans, Natalie sorted out child minding issues and booked an early flight Monday, along with a room at a hotel in the airport. I was thrilled. And then something happened that hasn’t happened before or since. Natalie wanted full disclosure so she sent me a face pic. That’s happened before but my response hasn’t. I was so turned on, by the trust, by the vulnerability, and by how fucking beautiful she was, that I came that night, looking at her face pic. Fully dressed, shoulders up, G-rated, face pic. I jerked off, imagining that gorgeous face looking up at me, as we kissed and fucked and eventually her orgasm crashed over her. I came purely from a face pic. I don’t think I even did that as a horny teen. Note: She didn’t know this until she read it as a draft. If you’re seeing it, she was ok with me leaving it in the diary entry.
I fell asleep thinking about how amazing it was going to be to meet Natalie.
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Diary of a Masseur 