Her Happiest Endings

Erotic New York City Sexual

Because every woman has her own journey.

The girls and I were at our typical Thursday evening hangout at the Bowery Hotel. Gemma restaurant to be exact. The endless cocktails, charming bartenders, delicious Italian food, and ambiance never fails. One cocktail turned into three and that’s when Juli gets to talking.

Juli - I just love her. She’s one of those friends who, well, always does everything right. Never misses Sunday church services, graduated top of her class (every time), married a handsome dentist, has three stunning children who all play piano perfectly, and her French bulldog couldn’t be more obedient. Not to mention she runs her own super-successful business, and all her employees love her. Of course they do! Duh. She’s Juli.

After martini #3, Juli opens about her marriage. At this point in the evening, our group of 4 became 2, and I was all ears for whatever juicy story Juli was about to tell me. Things in her marriage aren’t going as smoothly as the façade suggested. Her husband was going through a business divorce, their financial stability was on the rocks, and her brother’s battle with alcohol was worsening by the day. I’ve known Juli for about 25 years. We met in High School, and she was always the friend you could count on for advice. She just never had any issues of her own—which was something we all found to be so mysterious and a tad inhuman. Then of course when she’s drunk it’s always a different ballgame.

A bit of background info: we are all in our early 40s. I’ve never been married. I was engaged about a decade ago and when I learned my fiancé cheated on me with my former roommate, things got nasty – quickly. Long story short, I’ve had immense trust issues since, and never found Mr. Right. Haven’t even come close to Mr. Almost Right. It doesn’t stress me out too much. Most women my age have mental breakdowns when still single at this point in life. My dog and cat, Midi and Luna are all the family I need. Whatever is meant to be, will be. I lead a very fun and sexually charged lifestyle. The girls label me as Samantha from “Sex and the City”. Meanwhile, Juli, a consistent Charlotte. Then again, Juli and I get along just great. 

Out of nowhere, Juli proceeds to tell me about her amazing Masseur. Gosh do I love when this girl has alcohol. She had been seeing him on and off for a while, until she made the decision to focus on her marriage as Mr. Masseur knows nothing about Mr. Husband. Raving about her past experiences, she mentioned some key words which I remember quite vividly:

  • ‘Doctor M’
  • Not a medical doctor
  • Orgasmic Bodywork
  • Ultimate experience

As soon as she noticed my interest skyrocketing, she stopped herself and realized maybe she had gone too far. Conversation was immediately diverted.  We ended the night discussing the woes of adulthood, called our Ubers, and went home— until next time, Jules! 

Whispers: please drink even more next time!

I couldn’t get our conversation out of my head. Somewhere in New York City, there was a masseur who gave orgasmic massages to women. Normal women. Not men, women. Women like Juli. Are you kidding me? I’ve always dreamed about something like this. Juli is so upstanding, and if this was something she enjoyed regularly, I had to see what the hype was about. I was determined and motivated – very. With google as my bestie, I was able to narrow down my search and find this man. Aha! Found him.


Upon finding this mystery man, I had to send photos, provide my age, height, weight, and share a bit about myself. Part of me was looking for something wild and adventurous. I’m a grown woman who is entitled to some quality fun. Even if that meant the happiest ending massage the world had to offer. I deserve it all. He emailed me and we arranged to talk on the phone. For some reason, I was expecting a much raunchier conversation. Not at all. We engaged in a short chat where he informed me that any erotic portion of the massage was complimentary and voluntary. Payment for massage services were donations. 

Shortly after, he had an opening in his schedule and we met in person by his apartment. He was an attractive middle-aged man who seemed completely normal. He wasn’t creepy at all. Huge weight lifted off my shoulders, that’s for sure. I had a martini beforehand, as that felt appropriate before such a major event. By this point, it felt more like a first date rather than a wild sexual escapade. We walked to his small apartment and the mood was just right. Like perfect - with a faint floral aroma filling the air. I undressed and was laying on the massage table. For some reason, the moment he laid his hands on me, I erupted in orgasm. Something was just so overwhelmingly satisfying about being here. I didn’t have to worry about giving him oral sex afterward, sleeping over, or any of the awkwardness associated with hookups. There was nothing uncomfortable about this situation.

Although I already came, he proceeded to rub my body with warm oil. At this very moment, he was the sexiest man alive. I don’t even know what it was. The massage was going fine until he asked if I was willing to take the relaxation to the next level. Yes, I was ready and could not wait. He proceeded to rub my breasts, massage my nipples and clitoris, and firmly grip my ass. He then proceeded by inserting his fingers into my vagina, caressing firmly, and managed to find my spot. I couldn’t even speak or open my eyes. My mind was blown. No man has ever found my spot before. How is it that I’ve had sex with tons of men, and none have ever been able to please me so quickly? He was just that good. Something about him just made me feel so relaxed and at complete ease. He immediately takes over your body and a magnetic physical connection is instantly made. I can only speak on my experiences, but his massage is out of this world.

I’ve been seeing him regularly and oddly enough; his presence fills the void of the many men I regularly date. I am now able to focus on myself, my career goals, my fur babes, and my friendships. Doctor M has become a permanent part of my life in New York City. Nobody knows he’s there, but he has me and my body entirely. I’d be lying if I said I plan to stop seeing him eventually; because I know this has no end. Life is WAY too short.

Liza, Long Island City, New York


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