I had to find a happy ending.
Moonlight massage on one side of Aerodrome Road, on the other side of the road, let me check, he cranes his neck, snap, he won't forget, is... but is it a happy fucking ending? One of the massage joints is 24 hours. How did I know, well I called a number on a Happy Ending Listing site, and one lady on the end of the discrete mobile number responded to my question about closing time, '24'. She had that Chinese accent, the one that said, I am only here on a three-month tourist visa visiting my aunt. And I was intrigued. Though her English was minimal, it was to the point, this joint, the one either on the right or left side of the road, a busy arterial road in Maroochydore, did happy tugs, 24/7, according to the listing site, and had fresh 'young ladies,' just off an Air Asia flight and ready for tugging....
And boy, did I need a fucking tug. The undertaker, who ran the maintenance crew of a very busy and old stadium in Brisbane, in the Bundell district was about to take his annual leave, 'to Asia, where I'm going to fuck...' Well, I didn't have that luxury yet. A happy tug might have been setting the bar low but if I was lucky enough, she might jump on my face and give me a prostrate massage as well. For a little extra, I could get a body rub, with essential oils. That photo they posted on their profile, just tits galore, had me sold. Of course, it was a picture stolen from a porn site, but when you have been in a drought, that has lasted almost a decade, you think, even if she's a haggard bitch beyond her expiry date, well I'm happy to reestablish her 'shelf life' credentials. I'm kind and merciful that way.
Pete's going to Asia to get fucked. Or to fuck. I did the rounds and found five more massage parlours within a stone's throw. That's about ten so far. It's more than you would ever need in a city but this is a tourist town where the man takes his family for a sunny holiday and then takes himself for a happy ending when they are at the beach where his wife finds a stud, they are fitness freaks who run bare-chested along the elevated platform among the wetlands at the front of the beach. I'm sure there's more going on than what I've so far witnessed.
They aren't knock-up shops. But they are. It just depends on how much the girls want to make money. If they tell you to take off your pants and put a towel around you, that means, they are open for a happy ending.
I never did return. I just kept cruising the street of happy ending...
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