I was on a business trip to Thailand, due to a request of meeting face-to-face from one of our company’s potential clients. I work for a company in the U.S. that I shall leave unnamed, and I was there to ensure his demands were met, and the contract signed. After much laborious talks the deal was signed, which meant my job there was done, and I could head home. However, instead of getting the next flight out, I opted for the one leaving early next morning, so I could take the rest of the day I had left and enjoy the city and what it had to offer, something I didn’t have much chance to do during the previous couple of days that I’ve spent here.
I took a barefoot stroll along the sandy Nai Yang beach, and watched the sun set over the sea, before I headed elsewhere.
I found my way to one of the nearby restaurants, and seated myself. Since I wasn’t the biggest fan of seafood, I decided for Chicken Massan Curry. It was very tasty, and not particularly spicy for a curry, something I had no objection against. After the dinner I walked around and found myself at Bangla Road; there were surprisingly a lot of people for that time of day. I ended up in one of the bars having a drink or two and watching a group of gorgeous, what turned out to be ladyboys, perform, then cheered and clapped along with the smitten locals once the show was done.
Thailand was a wonderful place to visit, the locals were friendly, the sights amazing, and the entertainment surprisingly fun. I only wished I could have stayed a bit longer. It was 11 o’clock when I headed back to the hotel, which meant there was enough time for me to catch some sleep and wake up for the 6 am flight the following morning. I was walking along an empty street, and as I passed by an alleyway, I happened to look towards it and catch a glimpse of something unexpected. With another step, it was gone.
“Could that be…?” I wondered as I came to a stop, though I knew it was more likely I saw something else, or had a drink too many. I took a step back and another, until I was almost standing at the corner of the building, and that’s when I saw it again – a flashing sign of a blue octopus above a storefront, on the street across the dark alleyway. I made my way around the block, and smiled when I finally stood in front of the building; there was no doubt about it – it was The Blue Octopus!
Now, you may wonder what could a place, in a town where I’ve never been before, have to do with me? But my connection with The Blue Octopus goes all the way back to my college days.
…
Rachel and me were in our dorm room, on our beds, and our friend Natalie was with us. We’ve had a bit to drink, and we were considering ordering some Chinese food.
“The Blue Octopus,” Natalie said.
“Ugh, that sounds gross,” Rachel said. “What does it taste like?”
Natalie giggled. “It’s not a dish,” she said, “but talking about Chinese food made me remember. It’s a massage parlor I’ve been to a while back.”
“Eww, really? What kind of a person names their massage parlor ‘The Blue Octopus’? It sounds like a place you’d go to if you wanted to get groped a lot,” Rachel said, and I laughed.
She looked at Rachel, then at me. “You can laugh all you want,” she said, “but it was, hands down, the best massage of my life. It was literally out of this world.”
“You’re serious?” I said in disbelief.
“She’s not,” Rachel said. “There’s no way a place like that could even have a qualified masseuse, much less one that could give you a massage that good.”
“Then why don’t you come with me next time?” Natalie asked.
“I’d rather skip all the fondling and the groping, thank you,” Rachel said.
“Suit yourself. Molly?” Natalie said as she looked at me.
“Umm, sure,” I responded, “as long there’s no groping or fondling going on.”
“Oh, shush,” Natalie said. “How about next week?”
“That sounds good,” I said, and we left it at that.
When the weekend came, we took the bus to get all the way across town, then walked on foot through several streets and alleys, before we got to the part of the town that was recently rebuilt. We walked around for a minute, before I asked, “Where is it?”
We came to a stop in front of an empty building, and Natalie looked around. “It was here,” she said, then shrugged. “I guess they moved.”
I probably wouldn’t have thought about it again, if the same thing didn’t happen several months later, back in my hometown. One of my childhood friends brought it up, how she heard about it, and wanted us to go together since we haven’t seen each other in months, and I agreed. Yet, when we arrived at the address, the place was empty. She was confused just as much as me – she claimed she heard about it two days back, and even had a coupon. Places usually don’t disappear overnight, do they? Well, c’ est la vie I thought, and we went elsewhere. The last time was several years back. It was my friend’s birthday, and another friend of hers decided to surprise her with a trip to The Blue Octopus, the wonderful massage parlor she heard about. We came with her, only to end up spending 10 minutes in front of an empty building. It was baffling, and at times it felt like someone was playing a joke on me that was years in the making – I was expecting someone to jump out, laugh, and say, “I’ve got you! The Blue Octopus doesn’t exist; did you really think someone would name their massage parlor like that?”
But that didn’t happen. It piqued my interest enough for me to decide and find out more about it as soon I had a chance. However, for the time being, we went to a nearby spa and had a good time – especially the birthday girl. Once I got home that night, I looked up The Blue Octopus on the Internet; the best possible tool for the task.
Yet… nada, zilch, or simply said, nothing. What little information I have managed to find, wasn’t particularly helpful. But, there was this one person, a woman that reviewed it on her blog, ‘spoiler free’ as she wrote, whatever that meant. She claimed it was a magical, once in a lifetime experience that everyone should get to experience. She gave it 10 stars, and described it as fulfilling in every possible way. I was naturally skeptical, especially since it was some kind of a paranormal blog, but I contracted her through her email address, and asked her to tell me more about it and how I could find it – as well as mentioning that every time I heard about it, and went to its address, the place was gone. She responded eventually. This was her response:
“Dear Molly, I’m saddened to hear about your experiences with The Blue Octopus (or lack thereof) so far. However, I’m not surprised. The key factor when looking for The Blue Octopus is to keep your mind open, since an average, prejudiced person would surely run out screaming (or crawling, depending on the person). People tend to be scared of the unknown and unfamiliar, and while it’s a natural response, it’s also counterproductive. But, as long you keep an open mind, I’m sure you’ll find it – or shall I say, it will let you find it (laugh).
Best regards,
Alice.”
Yes. And if you tap your foot three times by the tree behind your house, a secret passage will open up, leading to a room full of treasure! I must have read her reply a dozen times. I’m not sure what I was expecting, to be honest; perhaps some info about it, someone I could call, or something along those lines, but I would have settled for something that at least made sense. I kept looking for The Blue Octopus for a while after, but ultimately I gave up and it became a weird, distant memory.
Until now.
There was light inside, and it appeared to be open. I opened the door and–
It was nothing like I expected it to be. As soon I entered, a wave of hot air hit me in the face, followed by some weird kind of smell. I couldn’t tell what it was. The floor looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in days, and blue paint was peeling off the walls. I realized I may have rushed to the conclusion; was it really The Blue Octopus? Was it even a massage parlor? Next to the flashing sign of a blue octopus, there was an inscription I couldn’t understand, so all I was going off was a sign – which might have been foolish. I took a few steps forward, then approached the desk to the right, behind which an older Asian lady was sitting. Her feet were up on the desk, and she was watching TV that was placed on the far right side of the desk.
It didn’t appear she had noticed me, so I cleared my throat, and said, “Hi. Is this The Blue Octopus massage parlor? If so, I’d like to get a massage, if at all possible.”
She looked at me, and said, “Yes.”
I blinked in confusion. Then it occurred to me that I was, after all, in a foreign country, and that perhaps she didn’t understand English very well.
“Full massage, please?” I said, trying to use the words she was most likely familiar with, rather than those she probably couldn’t understand.
She took her feet off the desk, and smiled. “Ahh, customer! Yes, yes! 20 dollars!”
Well, okay. I took 20 bucks out of my purse, and handed it to her. She walked me to the hallway, and pointed me to the second door to the right, and gestured me to knock. I walked up to the door, and after brief hesitation, knocked. I heard someone answer, though I didn’t understand what they said. I assumed it meant ‘enter’, so that’s what I did. As I walked in, I couldn’t help but notice how much cooler and cleaner the room was than the rest of this place, although the weird smell was still present. A young Asian woman stood by the massage table, and smiled.
“Ah, I’m sorry. I thought the customer was Thai. Welcome,” she said.
“Thank you,” I replied as I closed the door behind me.
“What is your name?” she said.
“Molly,” I said. “Yours?”
“Sarai,” she responded. “Please disrobe, and if possible, be patient with me. This is my first time.”
I smiled and nodded. Well, now I was sure. This wasn’t The Blue Octopus. The sign may be there – one which The Blue Octopus may, or may not have had – but it certainly wasn’t that place. Inexperienced masseuse, warm and dirty place – the front anyway – and the weird, yet not particularly unpleasant smell, it was all far off from what I’ve heard about it. But, that was okay. Whether I found it some day or not, it didn’t matter, though for a moment it was fun to think it might be that place. The masseuse turned around to give me some privacy, I disrobed, and laid face-down on the table, with just a towel covering my butt. She started the massage from my shoulders, down to my back, and along my spine.
I was surprised. Her massage skills were good, and the touch of her soft, slippery hands was not only pleasant, but also relaxing. As she made her way down my body, I found myself constantly drifting between nearly falling asleep and being awake; a touch to my sensitive spots, such as my inner thigh or under my knee, was enough to send a small shiver through my body and keep me awake, but those touches never seemed to last. Even when her hands started drifting towards where they normally shouldn’t have, I said nothing. Her touch was enjoyable, and if she happened to see a little too much while she massaged me right underneath my buttocks, well, I could live with that. After all, once I left Thailand I would probably never see her again.
It was almost like she could sense that, or hear what I was thinking, because her hands slid upwards and cupped my butt, before she started massaging it. It was at that point I realized the towel was gone; when did she pull it off? Not only that, but it became apparent my legs were more than slightly spread – she must have spread them while massaging me – and since I was shaved bald down there, I could imagine what kind of view she was having. My cheeks turned a soft shade of red, while I tried to act as if it was just an ordinary massage, as if she wasn’t massaging, squeezing, and spreading my butt cheeks time and time again, only stopping to add more oil, before continuing again. Worse yet, my body was beginning to respond to her touch, and I knew she could see it.
Her hands slid down, and her thumbs rested on my labia, before she spread it apart to get a better view inside. “Your pussy is really pretty. It has the loveliest color of pink that I’ve seen.”
I said nothing, as my cheeks burned with shame. What was I to say? Thank you? Her strange, yet nice compliment surely merited that, as inappropriate as it was, but I couldn’t bring myself to utter those words, and I wasn’t sure how good of an idea it would have been anyway. “Should I tell her employer about it?” I wondered, before remembering it was her first time. “Well, I should probably just let it go.” I would have felt terrible if she got fired over it, especially since it was my fault as much as hers, since I let her get this far.
Her hands found their way to my butt again, and I waited for her to tell me to turn around, before she was surely going to give my front a much more thorough massage… something I was oddly excited about. But that didn’t happen. Instead, with my butt cheeks spread, her thumbs drifted inwards from each side, before one of them brushed across my butthole, and brought a gasp from me. My back tensed, and my sphincter tightened; she giggled. Juices trickled down my labia and onto the table, as I realized what kind of place it really was. It was that kind of a massage parlor, the one where the massage is just an inconsequential part that leads to other, more pleasurable acts. And Sarai, the ‘masseuse’, was testing whether I wanted her to go further, or not.
As I deliberated what to do, I noticed her right hand was no longer on my butt; right then, I felt a finger at the top of my labia, before she slid it back towards my butt. Once at the bottom of my labia, she repeated the motion in the other direction, and I could have swore my labia spread in front of her finger just like a flower starting to bloom, coating it with my juices in the process.
“Someone likes the attention,” she said, as I stifled a moan when her finger reached my clit.
I detected a note of amusement in her voice, and I felt so ashamed. Was it so obvious I was enjoying her teasing, and her attention? I realized the question was dumb the instant I thought it, since I had been dripping like some kind of a bitch in heat on the table, but–
A single moan escaped my lips as she gave my clit a rub, before she slid her finger all the way back. I know. Rationally speaking, I should have said no – or some other sort of negatory response that would mean ‘don’t go any further’, but honestly, all rationality had left me a long time ago.
She placed a second finger next to the first, and slid them along the moist cleft of my nether lips, then all the way up to my clit. Meanwhile, her thumb from her other hand moved down and started gently massaging my puckered asshole, then pressed into it, hard enough for my sphincter to resist, but not enough to get inside. I spread my legs in front of her, hoping she would get the hint and finally push her fingers inside me, but whether she didn’t get it, or simply enjoyed teasing me, I wasn’t sure. The fact that I was offering myself to almost a complete stranger only served to arouse me even more.
I whined softly as she left her fingers nestled between my wet, puffy lips, and gently toyed with my clit, while she held my left ass cheek with her other hand, and her thumb played with my butthole. It felt so good! Yet, I wanted to cry out in frustration; I wanted more! Couldn’t she see that? At times it felt like she was torturing me purposefully, trying to see how far I’d go, and whether I’d ask her to slide them in me, or even beg. But I bit my tongue and resisted. She swapped her thumb to a thinner, possibly index finger, then pushed firmly against my sphincter, until it gave in and her finger popped inside, causing my butt to tense. I wasn’t big on anal, and at moments it felt like she knew that; as if she wanted to make me love it, and show me that I’d do anything as long I got to get off. I was afraid she was right. My breathing was short and ragged, and my heart was racing. I felt like a mess.
Her third hand slid along my thigh, and up over my butt. It stayed there for a moment, as her index finger went deeper, bringing a gasp from my lips. That’s when reality came knocking on my door: Humans don’t have three hands. My eyes shot wide open, and as I looked back over my left shoulder, my first thought was that I ended up in a massage parlor full of ladyboys, but the truth turned out to be much more weird.
“What the hell is that?” I cried out as I stared at the blue-ish, almost see-through, tentacle-looking kind of thing that was resting on my butt.
She smiled and titled her head to the left. “It’s just my tentacle. See?”
Her tentacle slithered up my back like a snake, and came to rest in the middle of my back. Some kind of ‘slime’ constantly dripped from its length, leaving a goo-ish, grey trail wherever it went. I could feel warmth radiating from it, as it was considerably hotter than my own body. At that moment I realized most people would have freaked, and ran out screaming, yet I merely stared at it in confusion and shock, being in a state of horniness that left me unable to properly react. As I looked at her smile, I found it oddly reassuring.
“Was I not supposed to freak out about this?” I wondered, as she pulled out her finger from deep within my butthole, while the tentacle slithered down my back, and towards my butt. “She couldn’t… she wouldn’t!” I thought as I watched it slide between my ass cheeks, then stopped near my butthole, before it pushed down, testing the increasingly feeble resistance of my sphincter. To make the matters worse, she abandoned my clit – possibly the only thing that was keeping me calm – then grabbed both of my cheeks with her hands and spread them wide apart, in effort to gain entrance with her tentacle. After some steady pressure, my sphincter gave in and I gasped in horror as I felt the slimy tentacle slithering through my butthole, and into my rectum.
“Oh God… I’m not ready for this kind of close encounter!” I cried out. She saw the panicked look on my face, then let go off my left cheek and reached down with her hand between my legs. With two of her fingers she teased apart my pussy lips, then bent them and pushed them into my wet, dripping, attention-deprived pussy.
I moaned in pleasure. I laid down, as if I wasn’t aware of what it meant, or what was about to happen – the tentacle pushed deeper, and I let it. With every thought of fighting, her fingers went deeper into my hole, giving me pleasure that I so desperately yearned for. I couldn’t fight her. I didn’t have the strength, nor desire. She pulled her fingers out, then plunged them back in to the last knuckle. It felt so good. All my defenses were shattered, my resistance – if there was any – gone, and I was hers to do with as she pleased. And she knew.
Two more tentacles appeared, sliding down the side of my butt, then made a forty-five degree turn to face each other, and slid forward. Once both reached the middle, they made an upward turn and started wrapping themselves around my thighs, right underneath my buttocks, going in circles. Once they were wrapped tightly around my thighs, the tentacles stopped moving, effectively immobilising me. To someone watching this enfold it would appear as if she was doing it to prevent any and all attempts of my escape, but I could tell that wasn’t the case. She was doing it to prove her complete and utter dominance over my weak self, while I was left gasping and groaning as her tentacle stretched my butthole. I wondered if she was enjoying it.
She pulled her fingers out of my pussy, then slid them down to my clit, coating it with my juices as she stroked it feverishly. Furthermore, the tentacle in my butthole stopped moving, settling deep inside me, and I wondered why. Soon, it became all too clear, as I felt the familiar warmness on my pussy lips, radiating from something that was standing near it.
My body tensed, and I should have protested. It was illogical… beyond insane, to just let myself be used like this. Everyone would at least try to fight it, no? But I couldn’t. I didn’t. I’m so ashamed. Instead of protesting – I raised my butt, like a good tentacle slut, and tried to push back until it was inside me… but the tentacle pulled away. It took several moments before I felt it slide between my labia, pushing the tip in, only to withdraw seconds later. It was ‘testing the waters’, and it did so again. And I just stayed. I didn’t want to rush it, despite how much I wanted it, needed it inside me. Because that’s what good sluts do.
And I was rewarded. The third time, as it sensed my warmness, responsiveness, and eager acceptance of my pussy lips which spread around it, surrounding it in a soft embrace, it pushed forward through my vaginal opening and it didn’t stop. I cried out in pleasure, while my muscles tensed and relaxed, time and time again. My body was trying to reject it; at moments it felt so slimy, like a big, giant slug invading my body, but it was so slippery my muscles couldn’t grasp it to prevent it from going deeper into me. As the tentacle grew in width, my legs were pulled further apart, while my juices not only coated the tentacle, but were forced out, dripping audibly on the table below me.
I wondered what would people I know think of me if they saw me right now, a thought that doesn’t cross my mind often. Would they see me as a hopeful director, that would some day play a role in the big company, or… as a tentacle slut, that more than willingly gave up her body for the first tentacles that came along? I couldn’t stop wondering, and the more I did, the louder my moaning became.
“Big company, huh?” Sarai spoke, her voice pulling my back to reality, away from pleasure, if only for a moment. “Look at you. I wish I had a camera to record this, and show it to everyone you know. Especially to employees below you,” she said, and my eyes shot wide in horror that came from imagining that situation. My legs tried to close, but were unable to. The thought alone of everyone watching me like this… I’d be so mortified, ashamed, and… aroused if it were to happen. I doubt I’d be able to keep my hands from my crotch, while everyone watched on in horror and shock, gossiping amongst themselves.
“To think that idea makes you excited… tsk,” she said as the tentacle inside me came to a stop, with my pussy tightly wrapped around it. It felt almost as thick as my wrist – I thanked God the one in my butthole was half as thick as that.
“Well, who am I to judge. I am fucking a rather sexy human for money. On my planet that’s frowned upon.”
“You… you are not from Earth?” I said.
She giggled. “I thought that was obvious. Well, less chit-chat, and more thrust-thrust,” she said as she slapped my ass cheeks. My body tensed, as did my muscles around the tentacles, bringing a soft groan from my lips.
Her hands grasped both my cheeks and spread them wide, watching as her tentacles slowly slithered out until the tips were left inside, before forcing their way back in. I felt so exposed, but also grateful that she kept it slow. Over the course of a couple of minutes, the speed slowly built up, until both tentacles were sliding in and out at a relatively fast pace. With each new thrust, the squelching noises coming from my pussy grew and filled the room, while I was left panting, gripping the sides of the table with my hands.
I don’t know how long it lasted, it could have been minutes or even hours, as I felt unable to tell the difference. I was in a state of immense, constant pleasure; my breathing grew shorter, and with every powerful thrust, air was being forced out of my chest.
At some point the tentacle inside my butthole pushed deep and came to a stop, while the one inside my vagina speed up even more. Sarai reached down with one of her hands and started rubbing my clit, overloading my body with pleasure. I tried to move and writhe, to escape her hand, but with her tentacles wrapped around my legs I couldn’t move at all, I was stuck in place, forced to endure everything she threw at me, no matter how intense. As the tentacle pounded my pussy faster and faster, I was literally left breathless, gasping for air but unable to take it; like a fish taken out of water.
“Come,” she ordered as she stopped rubbing my clit, then slapped me harshly across it. I couldn’t even cry out. My toes curled, my back arched, and my pussy gushed around the tentacle as I started to orgasm. My muscles started to spasm, and it seemed like that was her plan; the tentacle inside my pussy came to a stop, and started flooding my pussy with warm come. I could feel the thickness of the tentacles inside me with every spasm, as my anus tried to close, and my vaginal muscles tried to expel it, while in fact all it did was milk it, filling me with more come. All of it served to prolong my orgasm much longer than it would normally last.
I just laid there like some kind of a drugged-out person, with my mouth open, drooling, breathless. My lungs were air-deprived; it must have been a minute since I last took a breath. Then it came to an end, both my orgasm, and hers.
“Hey. Don’t die on me, Molly,” she said as she slapped my ass with both hands, and it seemed enough to bring me back to reality. I gasped for much needed breath.
I laid there for a while, as I tried to get my breath back, while my eyes drifted from staring at her, to staring at the wall, and vice versa. It’s then that I smelled something – something I didn’t pay attention to until now. The same, weird smell from before, yet at the same time it was slightly different. It took me a moment to realize it was coming from her – or better said, her slime, that mixed with oil. My cheeks blushed softly as the smell started to arouse me once more.
Sarai laughed. “Looks like I found a regular client, huh?”
I decided not to let her get to me. The tentacle in my butthole slowly slithered out, and the one in my vagina followed suit; as the last bit came out from my vagina, I heard a wet ‘plop’ sound, before a lot of sperm and juices started pouring out. The tentacles around my thighs released their grip, and I felt… different. Empty in fact, as both my holes were left gaping.
I reached down with my right hand, and plunged two of my fingers into my sloppy pussy, while my thumb settled on top of my clit. I knew she was watching me, and I didn’t care. Somewhere during my masturbation, I realized what made the smell different from the one before. It was poop. She had been so far up my asshole that some of it was forced out, and mixed with the rest of the smell. It was nasty; I loved it. I was already a mess; sweat, oil, slime, and come covered and dripped out of my body. Who cares about a little poop? I thrust my fingers deeper, yearning for that feeling of fullness and secretly hoping she would fuck me again. I fingered myself for another minute, before collapsing in another orgasm, though not as strong as the one before. As I laid there, panting, with my fingers still inside me, I heard her laugh.
“Thank you!” she said. “I’m already enjoying my stay here, and seeing you masturbate in front of me, in your own mess… I think I’m going to love it here. I’m glad you’ve enjoyed the ‘massage’ as much as I did. But we’re well past midnight, and we should have already been closed. Do you mind leaving?”
After a moment or two I managed to turn around, then sit up. I looked down at the table, and… well, let’s just say it wasn’t just on the table anymore, and it was much worse than I expected. As I stood up on my shaky legs, I felt sperm and slime drip down my body, through the former was a lot more runny than the latter. I dressed myself, deciding not to ask for the shower, then picked up my purse and headed for the door. As I reached for the door, I realized I was being rude, trying to leave like that without saying a word. More so, would she be getting any kind of money from the massage? I reached into the purse, and turned around, then walked up to her. I handed her a hundred-dollar bill, and as we stood, face to face, I blurted out, “Welcome to Earth!”
I hurried out of the room before I heard her response, with my cheeks blushing bright red. It was so unlike me to struggle with words, yet after the night I had…
I found my way to the hotel, still not feeling quite there. It’s amazing I even made it there, because half of the time I wasn’t even watching where I was going – I was in some sort of a daze, and as I replayed some of the events in my mind, I found that at times I even had to remind myself to breathe.
“Well, all is well that ends well,” I thought as I drew myself a bath, and disrobed. But as I climbed into the tub, I realized something was changed. I had changed. I slid my right hand down my body, to my crotch, and my fingers found their way to my sore slit; but I couldn’t help myself. I plunged two fingers into my pussy, and masturbated as I contemplated calling Natalie to tell her I’ve found it… or even quiting my job, and staying here. “I could work as the desk lady – I’m sure they could use someone that speaks English,” I thought. But those were just sweet thoughts, nothing more. I didn’t speak Thai, and I didn’t want to quit my job to become an alien-slut.
After several orgasms, I stopped abusing my pussy and my clit any further, and just laid there. I felt a little ashamed of the things I thought about me, and people I imagined seeing me like that… but if loving every second of it made me into a ‘slut’, well, it’s something I could live with. I considered going back, and after short deliberation, I decided to do exactly that. I finished my bath, dressed in new set of clothes, and walked there, though I wasn’t exactly sure where I even found it to begin with; I didn’t pay attention to the street, or anything. I feared that when I got to the place, it wouldn’t be there anymore. That’s usually what happens, doesn’t it? Sometime during the night, I found it, and smiled. The lights were off. I knocked, but no one answered, and I realized they must have left for the night. So I waited. I missed my flight, but thankfully I managed to reschedule it since I brought my phone with me.
Around 7 am, I saw Sarai walking towards me, along with the older, front-desk lady. Sarai smiled when she saw me and stopped before me, while the front-desk lady went to open the parlor.
“Oh, hey, Molly,” Sarai said. “Back for more?” she giggled.
“Hey.”
After a short talk, during which I somehow ended up kissing her – don’t ask, I was worn out and sleep deprived, I wasn’t thinking clearly – I managed to get all their locations in the U.S., some of which were close to where I lived.
“You should think about becoming our member,” she said.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“We move a lot. We can’t risk getting caught, and the longer we stay in one place, the bigger the chances are someone that shouldn’t will find us. Some of our technology helps recognize and repel unwanted clients, but…”
She went on to explain how, if I became a member, I’ll always know where to find it as I’ll be notified about new locations of The Blue Octopus over my phone. It suffices to say I became a lifetime member of The Blue Octopus. Before I left for my flight, to my surprise she gave me a kiss and a smile, promising to probe me again one day. I shuddered at the thought. I couldn’t wait.
Several years later, after going through several masseuses, each of which taught me something new and stretched the limits I didn’t even know I had, I saw Sarai again… and this time, I had her screaming in pleasure and gasping for air. It only felt fair.
THE END.