A mouse, a mute massusse and her maj.

I had a massage this morning, I've had plenty where you sit forward in a chair thing and a Chinese man acts out his rage at having a tiny penis and being as hairless as a new born mouse. But today I took off everything up top and lay with my face in a hole. I was a bit bashful, but the masseusse didn't vomit on my back so the sight of my Charlies squishing out sideways can't have been as repugnant as I thought it would be. Also it probably helped that she was a mute. Not a real one, but not a word. Quite refreshing though slightly unsettling. I wasn't sure whether to make encouraging noises. You know. The ones you make at certain times to let someone know they're hitting the spot? Well, I decided not to. It could only come out pervy as it was in fact fantastic, and she knew what she was doing. Anyhow, she unknotted my back and shoulders a treat and before I knew it I was out on the street, and spaced out. Woah! I could hardly walk straight. I saw Queen Elizabeth I waiting for a cab in the street and asked for her photo. She graciously agreed. The end.