The second year was pretty good too but it became monotonous. It was basically the same thing over and over. I had my good days but I knew I wanted to...do more with my life. I was making a six-digit salary, saving most of it, but going nowhere.After the third year I talked with my massage therapist. He explained how he got started and how much he liked his job. I decided to start taking classes in being a Masseur. The more I thought about it, the more I was deciding that's what I wanted to do. I can clearly hear him being the person behind the words, the playful banter, the goading, but not the sexual man that wrote these naughty things to me. I gulp slightly as I read over it, him asking if I touch myself, and I remember how wet I got from that.I blush even deeper remembering the rich dark head of hair I imagined being between my legs. It looked exactly like his does now. I am completely mortified. I drop my phone, backing up and gripping over my mouth to keep myself from. More

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