Let's get a couple of things straight here.
1. "Prostate massage" is a phrase that appears here and there on the boards. What does it mean? It means sticking a finger up a man's asshole far enough to make contact with his prostate. Guys who enjoy this like to call it "prostate massage" because it sounds nicer, and way less gay, than "having something shoved up my ass." Nevertheless, that's what it's about.
2. For those who enjoy this sort of thing, prostate massage, when timed and executed properly in conjunction with activity along the lines of a handjob or blowjob, can produce orgasms that will blow the top of your skull clean off and leave you with your cranial fluids and brain matter dripping onto the double-layer massage table liner.
3. In the entire recorded history of the universe there is not a single documented instance of a man being "turned gay" by a sex act. Straight men who "go" gay were not in fact straight. They just did not realize they were gay until something happened that made them realize that they love cock.
4. Enjoying prostate massage does not mean you're gay. Enjoying cock means you're gay. Wanting a woman to stick her finger up your ass will never ever mean you're gay, assuming the fact that it's a woman on the other end of the arm actually has some significance to you. Wanting a man to stick his finger or cock up your ass might mean you're gay...or at least willing to learn.
Are we all on the same page here?
First reply to this post to imply that liking prostate massage means you also like show tunes, wine spritzers and cock wins an involuntary prostate massage.
OK then, on with the show.
I'm on board with a good prostate massage. Is it necessary at all times for me to reach orgasm? No. Does it help get me to a joyful conclusion if I'm having one of those nights where Little Otis stubbornly refuses to capitulate and dispense his ammunition? Definitely. Is it an important part of this complete breakfast? You bet your Cocoa Puffs it is.
A year ago, I blundered stupidly into SunGold on 43rd Street, the same way I blundered stupidly into dozens of places before I found out there were actual boards devoted to actually reviewing these places so you wouldn't wind up dead or in prison or separated from your wallet or upsold to oblivion or bait-n-switched into hell. I saw an ad, I called the number, I showed up with some cash.
Lucky for me, Michelle happened to be working that night and happened to be available at the moment I happened to walk in. A pretty Korean woman in her 30's with a generously proportioned pair of C cup tits and a superb ass, she's fun to be with, has a playful sense of humor and a pretty face (she does, however, wear her makeup like a mask...I'll bet you I couldn't pick her out of a lineup without it...and...damned if I know how pretty or ugly or in-between she might be without it.)
There were others working at the place and although the cast of characters has changed since then one thing has not: Michelle is the superstar of the place. The others are OK, though they tend toward the older end of the spectrum. Nevertheless, while Michelle is amazing, do not necessarily spurn Bebe and Cici in your travels. They will both work hard for your pleasure.
This is a pretty typical midtown Spa setup with private rooms, a very clean environment, tasteful decor, clean towels and a table shower. All the expected amenities are there.
Broadly speaking, here is what you can expect: a fun and playful table shower followed by a very good, not great, massage, followed by a hand release with roaming. The hand release will start with a long buildup involving touching, breathing, maybe even some nibbling...and she'll stick her finger up your ass. If you aren't into that, don't bother coming here. If you require more mileage, you'll have a hard time getting it and may never get it here. But if this sounds appealing...read on.
I decided to pay Michelle a visit for the first time in a while this afternoon. There was a period of time where I came to see her like once a week. My, ahem, social schedule is more cluttered these days and it's probably more like once every couple of months now. Prostate massage is kind of like Indian food. When I have it I like it, but it's not my regular diet.
I strongly recommend calling ahead - there are generally only 2 or 3 girls working here and only one of them is actually Michelle. I walked in on time and she gave me a nice greeting. "Been busy?" she asked..."Yeah" I said, "work, work work." She offered me a deal on 4 hands but I declined. I wanted her and her alone.
I paid the 70 house for the hour and she led me down the hall to a room where I took off my clothes. Just as I was about to sit down and wait for her to return, the door opened and she led me down the hall to the table shower.
She stepped into the giant rubber rain boots they keep by the door of the shower room and got to work. She's always playful and fun on the table shower and this time was no exception. Plenty of soaping up the ass crack, nice pleasant rubbing...rinse off...turn over...she soaped my chest and then started soaping my cock, which responded quickly and jumped to attention, producing from her a dirty little giggle that made me wish I could bend her over that table and teach her some new tricks.
She dried me off (she always rubs the towel up the ass crack and says "open the door" heh heh) and brought me back to the room where I laid down and waited the usual 5 minutes for her return.
A good solid massage ensued. We made minimal chit chat during the massage. There is a professional distance in the relationship that works out ok. She certainly has no idea how much time I spend on this hobby and we're all probably better off that way. She gave good attention to every part of the body - head, neck, back, glutes, legs, feet, arms, hands. Thorough and professional, the massage is always very good though not best-in-show.
Then she hot-toweled my back and dimmed the lights. Running her fingers down my neck and spine, then up my legs and over my ass, she leaned over and licked then bit my ear, exhaling a hard, sharp breath that made me shiver. She rubbed my ass cheeks again... and then rubbed my asshole... and then applied a little oil and slowly inserted her finger into my ass. My filthy-minded companion little Otis stood up and saluted...then demanded equal time.
I flipped over and Michelle gave me hard little bites on my chest before moving down and biting my inner thigh. As she stood over me I felt her heavy breasts through her shirt...then under her shirt...before laying back for the main course. With my hands roaming all over her outstanding breasts and feeling her ass through the tight yoga pants, Michelle put one hand on my straining, iron-hard cock as she slid that finger back into my ass. My eyes rolled back in my head and she started slow strokes on my cock, all the time with that finger touching my prostate.
This girl knows the rhythm and timing that makes me come the way a squirrel knows nuts. She positioned herself on the table, sitting between my legs, one hand on my red hot cock, the other with a finger in my ass. Three times she brought me close and eased off, up to the brink and back, until finally I reached down and touched her shoulder and just looked into her eyes and she knew it was time.
She machine-gunned her hand up and down my cock, the other hand still with the finger deep in my ass, rubbing back and forth until finally I exploded what felt like a river of cum, so much it felt like it would never stop...
I melted like a pat of butter on a warm slice of freshly baked bread as she got hot towels for cleanup. When she walked back into the room I closed my eyes and stuck my tongue out, pantomiming that she had killed me. She laughed and slapped my leg, saying "wake up."
She cleaned up then massaged my face and head and then the hour was up. I stood to get dressed and she started to help me - they do that here...button your shirt, put your socks on your feet. Personally I'm not a fan of it...some guys like it. I waved her off, saying "I'm a big boy now. I can dress myself."
She busied herself with other stuff and then I handed her a 50 buck tip (40 is perfectly fine here as a tip, 50 or 60 is generous but not necessary), the usual hug and peck on the cheek, two flights down and I blend right into the traffic on 43rd Street, another faceless everyman hustling his way around at lunch hour...a faceless everyman with a big giant satisfied smile.
212-398-4653
43rd btw 5th and 6th