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Oh, and I hate the term "happy ending."
This article was written by Bo Alexis and provided by our partners at YourTango .
Happy-ending massage stories are pretty common, a mixture of truth, half-truth, and urban legend that captivates the imagination of men, even in this age of casual sex and unlimited Internet porn. Most of these stories are about women providing such services to men as the high point of a massage.
However, according to IBIS World , there are an estimated 21,000 spas in the U.S. where a predominantly female clientele spend more than $10 billion dollars annually in services. These women average more than 110 million visits per year, so it's not surprising that juicy tales of women receiving happy-ending massages are increasing. The truth of the matter is far more women receive erotic or sensual massages than the public is aware of.
Some women are seduced by the massage process and decide to have an erotic experience then and there, while others set out to ﬁnd a place where they can get a happy ending. Some women present themselves as "ripe and ready" for an explicitly erotic experience by indicating their desire through body language and other thinly veiled alluring behaviors.
I know this because I'm a male sex-positive pleasure provider , and I facilitate happy endings for women for a living.
My experience in this ﬁeld spans several years. It started when I was a massage therapist and found that several of my female clients, most between 19 and 49 years old, indicated to me that they wanted something more than a regular massage.
One of my ﬁrst surprises was from Ali*, 22, from Maine. It was a hot spring day, and she visited for a deep-tissue massage because of college finals tension. After the initial intake procedure, I informed her about the standard options for the massage session, left the room, and returned a few minutes later to ﬁnd her lying on her back, uncovered, with a suppressed smile on her face, her perky breasts and nipples fully exposed.
Obviously, this was not one of the massage "options" I gave her, and I was a bit taken aback. I asked if she wanted the massage uncovered. She said that's what she prefers, so I proceeded the massage session as she liked it but asked her to lie face-down and placed a hand towel over her midsection.
By the middle of the massage, she was perceptibly moving her body and making low erotic noises. I fed her lascivious desires with slow, deep, long-ﬂowing strokes, teasingly caressing her erogenous parts from her head to feet, my intuitive hands responding as her body throbbed with libido, a libido that was obviously looking for some kind of climatic expression. After an hour, she turned face-up.
Not surprisingly, there was a wet spot where her body was on the black silky cotton sheet that covered the massage couch.
Her perky breasts and nipples looked like they were bursting with pleasure, ﬁrm like pink grapefruits. Ali was ready to climax. As inexperienced as I was at the time, I assumed she wanted intercourse and was about to oblige when she ﬁrmly took my hand and indicated she wanted a digital orgasm. (The phrase "happy ending" was not yet in vogue.) Almost two hours had passed, and she had a huge orgasm. She left me with a surprisingly big tip for a college student.
My career as a provider of happy endings for women had just begun.
Over the next several years, I had many more experiences of women indicating in different ways that they wanted to engage their feminine sexual energy in the massage session. These women do not ﬁt any stereotype and came (no pun intended) from a broad social spectrum in more or less within the age group I mentioned above.
Katie* was 34 and of Italian/German background. She came in because of back pain and tension headaches. It turned out, she was in a relationship with a guy who never took the time to really explore and appreciate her physical needs and desires. She came in for a 90-minute massage, and I attended to all the tight and sore places on her neck and back.
After the ﬁrst 60 minutes, Katie's body started to signal her sexual center. There's something about extended touch and caress that tends to release the most potent chemicals of the sexual centers of a woman who's in need of physical and emotional attention.
By the end of the session, it was clear she was enjoying the touch experience beyond its remedial value; Katie desperately wanted to cum. She apologized and asked if she could masturbate. I offered to help, and she quickly asked me to suck and gently bite her hard, brown nipples while she stroked her clitoris to an explosive orgasm.
After a few years of increasing requests from women for erotic massages, I decided to give up my massage practice and focus exclusively on providing pleasure for women.
I have learned a lot about the art of erotic touch. I actually hate the term "happy ending." It's a vulgar, cheap phrase suited for the sleazy "massage parlors" that cater to men who are looking for a quickie in 15-, 30-, and 60-minutes sessions. And from what I understand of the female psyche, most women ﬁnd the "happy-ending" model of an erotic engagement outside of a romantic relationship to be repellent.
As a matter of fact, "repellent" was the exact word Laura* used to describe "happy-ending" massages when she called to make an appointment for my 90-minute erotic body rub. Laura, 39, was a former corporate executive who was married with two kids.
She was a woman with much passion for life but still trying to ﬁnd her own grounds about her sexuality and her right to enjoy gratiﬁcation that she wasn't getting from her husband of 12 years. She conﬁded that "he ﬁnds my breasts and vagina very easily. Sometimes I let him have his way, much to my dismay, despite my pleas that I need more than his cock inside of me for a few minutes."
On the day she called me, Laura was still ambivalent about the 'adventure' she was contemplating, but ultimately went for it due to her sexual deprivation that was slowly killing her soul, body and mind.
She needed to feel, she said. I rubbed her irresistible light brown body until she was relaxed and receptive and my intuitive hands were in sync with the deep desires that welled up inside her. I teased every hot spot on her body until she was saturated inside out with love hormones and viscous tasty juices.
More than two hours of unconditional erotic touching later, she broke out in spasmodic vibrations and intense writhing until she climaxed with a suppressed roar from deep inside her and finally rested in a comfortable snuggled position until she was back to Earth again.
There are many more juicy stories, but the point is that "happy endings" for women are sex-positive and a great learning experience that can benefit marriages.
In fact, one of my clients even told me her husband announced to his friends that "this is the massage guy who prepared my wife for me the other night. We had the best sex together in several years. I don't know what his magic is, but when she got home that night, she came at me like a wild animal."
*The stories in this article are all true, but the names and some other details were changed to protect the privacy of the individuals involved. Any resemblance of similar experiences which anyone may have had or know of is only coincidental.

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From deep tissue to hot stone, there isn’t much the massage industry has not offered.
But the latest craze is for the most intimate treatment yet.
The yoni massage is exclusively for women and focuses on a lady’s private parts.
But the treatment comes at a price – an hour-long session can cost up to £250 ($330).
Here’s what happened when Nilufer Atik put her inhibitions aside to give the yoni massage a try:
Name a type of massage and the chances are I’ve tried it. For me, there’s nothing better than lying semi-comatose on a kitten-soft bed while a stranger pummels the giant knots from my back.
I was even once held upside down by a yogi in India and massaged by his feet.
I stand with my eyes closed, feeling awkward as Lisa lifts off my baggy T-shirt and peels down my underwear while breathing heavily on my neck.
I’d thought that was a pretty intimate experience, until I heard about the yoni massage.
I must admit I was curious and confused all at once but my overriding feeling was I had to give it a try.
Yoni is the Sanskrit word for vagina and means “sacred space”.
The idea of the massage is to release physical and emotional blockages and free sexual energy to enable the recipient to become more in tune with her body.
Some women experience an orgasm but that isn’t the goal.
Having never been comfortable with my own nudity, it was with some trepidation that I booked in a session with a London agency that specializes in sensual massage.
All of its masseurs are women and the one assigned to me was 28-year-old yoni expert Lisa*.
Before the main event takes place, she tells me: “An ordinary massage is about releasing the muscles. A sensual massage like yoni is about awakening the body and seeing what’s there to enable pleasure.”
Donning her white overcoat and black trousers, Lisa sets about creating the right ambience for my massage, which involved dimming the lights, lighting aromatic candles and putting on soothing music.
We begin with an undressing ceremony.
By the time she’s moved her hands to the front of my crotch, I’m so relaxed she could have massaged me with a Brillo pad and I wouldn’t have noticed.
I stand with my eyes closed, feeling awkward as Lisa lifts off my baggy T-shirt and peels down my underwear while breathing heavily on my neck.
It’s strange being undressed by a woman — the last time that happened was when my best friend put me to bed after I overdid it on a drunken night out.
Lisa starts by massaging my feet, rubbing every toe between her fingers with aromatherapy oils.
She works her way up the back of my legs and I start to feel blissfully relaxed when suddenly I feel a hand slip between my buttocks.
OK, now this doesn’t feel so ordinary. Lisa proceeds to slide her palms up and down the backs of my thighs, gradually edging towards the gap between my legs.
I squirm a little but she tells me to breathe deeply and focus on the feeling — and it works.
By the time she’s moved her hands to the front of my crotch, I’m so relaxed she could have massaged me with a Brillo pad and I wouldn’t have noticed.
I was initially apprehensive about letting a woman touch me “down there”, but my inhibitions evaporate the more the massage progresses.
Even when Lisa asks me to turn over and works her hands down from my belly to my privates, I feel caressed rather than sexed-up. None of it feels intrusive at all.
She softly presses a cupped palm on to my nethers and makes circular motions to “get the blood flowing”, using her hands, fingers and even her breath to warm, soothe and knead.
I am surprised to find that, instead of becoming aroused, I just feel tingly and blissful all over.
When Lisa announces my time is up I feel a combination of relief and disappointment.
Relief because it hasn’t been as embarrassing as I’d imagined, but disappointment that the light-headed giddiness and tingly feeling is now subsiding.
Is this meditation or just masturbation?
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