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About Utena

I’m typin this fast, prolly messin up—12 typos, who cares? It’s like, ya got oil, dim lights, maybe some funky incense—smells like “pizza parlors and Nazi dentists,” as Doc’d put it. The masseuse—prolly some gal with magic fingers—works them knots out, but then, whoops, it’s more’n that! Gets ya all tingly, heart racin—surprised me first time, I’ll tell ya what! Thought in my head: “George, you’re in deep now, heh!” Exaggeratin? Maybe, but it’s like ridin a bull—thrillin and a lil scary.

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In this article, we’ll discuss if and when it’s common or normal that genital or intimate touch is or may be included in a massage treatment session.

After a mini meltdown, I decide to take a breather. I stroll over to the Moletai Lake. It’s beautiful, man. The water’s glistening, and I’m like, “Okay, maybe today won’t be a total disaster.” I sit on a bench, and this old dude starts chatting me up. He’s telling me about the legends of the lake. Apparently, there’s a monster in there. I’m like, “Yeah, right.” But then he gets all serious, and I’m like, “Whoa, maybe I should be worried.”

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