”“Of course,” she said. “Give me your hands, and I’ll walk you through the...”“No,” he interrupted. “I thought you were going to mas...age me.”A flicker of annoyance crossed the doula’s face, but it was gone almost as soon as it had arrived.“Of course,” she said, her voice calm. “Please; take off your shoes.”For the next fifteen minutes, she talked the husband through the art of massage, demonstrating on his feet. By the time she was done, the room smelled like lavender.“Thanks,” he said, and she. He declined, his wet towel the excuse. You can always take it off I commented, reassuring him that I had seen naked males before. He reluctantly followed my suggestion. I saw why, his cock was semi erect. He sat on the other half of the bed, using the other two pillows against the bed head behind his back. I looked at him. He had excellent muscular definition on a slim frame, little hair on his chest, a small nest of light brown hair around the base of his hardening average sized uncircumcised. The best of both worlds, I had no desire to venture into that myself so I talked to women who loved other women and who didn't mind a married man delving into their intimacies.It was in 1995 that I met Susan. She was bi, single, Asian and 30. She worked out and had a killer body. We exchanged pictures and formed a deep bond over the next two years. One of the things we liked to do was role play. We'd take on the characters of our fantasies acting them out online. I don't remember how many times. Either way, I felt hot and ready for all the sticky, warm, nasty attention I'd be getting from these cokeheads on Chatroulette. Then, after a few hours of being eye candy and touching myself for those men - watching them drool for me and desire me like a forbidden element - I'd close my computer, take everything off, and finally (exhausted and happy) go to sleep. That was my way of getting the validation I never had in real life, the validation that I'm good enough.As I was browsing my phone.