in gushing praise of rub and tug

you work hard, you think hard, you’re stressed.

so you turn to the time-honoured manipulations of a skilled masseuse to help ease you of your physical and mental burdens. it is a luxury no one should be denied.

ah, but what is typically and sadly missing from this equation is nature. because we fear nature. because the nature that put us on this world is deemed to be somehow wrong by so many and in so many painfully ignorant ways…

ha, i say! and to add a visually evocative word, poppycock!

is it really a crime to desire both a professional massage and a happy ending in the plying hands of another? well, yes… in most lands it’s technically a crime to receive said double whammy, or, indeed, the latter on its own.

but i must argue it is something of a spiritual crime to deny mother earth’s pleasures, the great wonders of evolution, in natural combination. tactile, sensual and sexual pleasure exist for a reason. why can’t they all be friends? and to not be able to procure such an amiable, well-rounded alliance when seeking to purge the demons of the day seems both a waste and ultimately unsatisfying.

now, i’m not saying that every handsmith in the universe be made to offer a full-service service, but merely that those who wish to broaden their professional horizons be allowed to do so. the intimacy, the hand to body contact, is already there. so, what’s another bodily fluid, rationally speaking? the so-called moral and ethical objections are no more than trifling prudery. and we could employ institutional oversight for the safety and protection of all concerned, as well as a rating system to ensure good consumer value.

now, in my reckoning, a true, a-plus massage would be tug, rub, then tug again over the course of an hour.

oh, and i know, i know, i know, how our instincts will inevitably conjur up the curse of jealousy. mrs. bobo envisioning my thralls of ecstasy as sweet ilsa manipulates me expertly to the little death. equally, how i indubitably will fret at the thought of young, handsome erik probing the love-of-my-life’s musky nether regions. this too is nature.

but… get over it, i say! and embrace a better future! if our bodies continue to evolve, so too can our minds. and, perhaps most poignantly, remember that our great leaps forward have been made with our hands, not our feet.


2 Responses to “in gushing praise of rub and tug”

  1. gene's wading pool

    Gee, I feel happy already. To end at the beginning (or vice versa)… I think McDonald’s should get in on this at the, ah, ground–kneecap-ground–level and start franchising the service real quick. After the order is fulfilled, the exquisitely appointed attendents could then ask benignly, “Would you like a hug with that, sir (or madam)?”
    Oh to dream… per chance to moan…

  2. BLZbob

    McRub, McTug, McRub & Tug. All you can squirt for $2.99. Now, that’s a McDeal!

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