I Booked a Massage at a High-End Resort and Got a Surprise Happy Ending
We talk to one woman who went on vacation at a surprisingly all-inclusive resort.
Ever have a story so hot it would be wrong not to share it with the rest of the world? We’re here to listen. Each week, we’ll bring you tempting tales from our readers that will definitely keep you up all night—in the best way possible. This time, Elaine* shares a story about the time she tried to get a little R&R but wound up with a big O.
You signed up for a normal massage, right? This wasn’t some back-alley thing.
No, no, this started out very innocently. I was at a Cancun resort on a family vacation, and my parents booked a massage for me as a gift. So one afternoon I left the beach wearing my bikini, and headed over to the resort’s rooftop spa. I had no idea it was all the way up there—there’s this super-private hut with a massage table overlooking the whole ocean. It was really beautiful.
And who was the masseuse?
He was this Mexican dude, at least 20 years older than me. Rugged. Definitely not my type.
Did you guys talk?
Not much. The masseuse and client relationship is awkward, you know? It’s very intimate and completely private—you’re the only one who knows what goes on in there, and there’s this false sense of intimacy where you take off your clothes because it’s socially acceptable. So I took off my clothes, got under the towel, and then he started.
He started… massaging you normally?
Totally normal. I remember he did my back, and then circulated around the body as they do—the neck, the arms, and you go to the extremities or whatever. And then he said to turn over. He did my face, then my shoulders and arms, and then my legs. At a certain point he undid my bikini bottom and…
Wait, wait, wait. He just went for it?
Well, okay, no. There was a certain point where he said, “Is this okay?” and I was like, eh.
I think that’s what I said. You’re already in a situation that would make you uncomfortable if you were in another guy’s bed, but you’re not—you’re in this weirdly constructed situation. I guess, like, the lines of acceptable intimacy just felt blurred at the time. And I was totally 100% relaxed. And he didn’t ask “Is this okay?” in a sexy way or anything. It was as if he was asking if the pressure was okay, just totally nonchalant.
But you knew what he was asking.
I think his hand was right on my pantyline when he asked me.
So, yeah, hard to mistake that.
I didn’t think too much about it, honestly. It’s not like when you’re hooking up with a guy and you’re like, What does this mean? Is this going to change everything? It’s just like, ‘This feels good, keep it going! I’m in a foreign country, how far could this possibly go?’” Also, I had been going through a real dry spell at the time.
So this was your lucky day!
Honestly, on this vacation I was thinking, ‘I really need to join J-Date when I get back home.’ I needed this.
Alright, so he goes for it. Normally during massages, people are totally silent. But did it turn all porno?
No! He was totally silent the whole time. I assume he was enjoying himself. I don’t really know. And I wasn’t moaning or anything. It was still kind of like getting a massage—yes, you feel good, because it’s supposed to feel good, but it would be awkward to do any theatric moaning. You just breathe through the massage and that’s it.
So you reached a happy ending.
And then what? Does he just walk off?
There wasn’t an abrupt stop, because that would have made things awkward. He continued to massage my legs. But it didn’t last much longer, and then he walked away. So, like a normal massage, I laid there until I was moved to move, and then I got up and left.
Were you just lying there thinking, “Well, that’s the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Oh, my first thought was, this is the best story—but it’s the story I can’t tell many people. It’s way more sexually adventurous than I normally am.
Every massage afterwards must be such a letdown.
Every time I now have a male masseuse, I feel like I don’t know what’s going to happen. Though truth be told, if another masseuse was like, “Is this okay?” I don’t know how I’d react. I’m in a relationship now—and for the record, satisfied! I’d consider the consequences a little more. I mean, there’s a time and a place.
Did you see him again?
Oh yeah. I saw him around the resort for a horrifying two more days. But he wasn’t trying to talk to me or anything. It was as if this whole thing was just part of the service—nothing special. Nothing to see here. Just another client.
And did you ever, even for a second, consider reciprocating?
I wouldn’t have reciprocated if he paid me. The guy was wearing a wedding band!
Photos by MoMo Productions / Getty Images