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“Hey, Missy, this is Steve.”
“Hi, Steve. Need to schedule an appointment?”
“Yeah, I’m really tied up in knots,” was the reply. “Any chance you can see me this afternoon?”
“Yeah, I have an opening at 3:30, will that work for you?”
“No, sorry. I’ve got a client coming in then. O…K…well, maybe I can catch you next week. I’m pretty busy. Tell you what; I’ll see if I can make some time in the middle of next week.”
Steve Terry wasn’t the type of massage client who came in just to relax. He usually made time only when he was hurting.
“What’s bothering you, Steve?” Melissa asked.
“Aww…my low back has been aching a lot…and…I’m really stressed out over some stuff…but I can make it until next week,” Steve said. His voice sounded tense and weary.
“Could you make it at 6 today?” Melissa asked in a sympathetic tone.
“But you close at 5:30, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I usually do. But, I don’t mind staying a little late for you. I don’t have anything else to do this evening. Why don’t you plan to be here at 6, and let me see if I can help you feel better, and maybe relax a little.”
It sounded good to Steve. “I couldn’t ask you to do that, Missy. I can manage.”
“Come on,” Melissa coaxed. “Really, I don’t mind.”
“If you’re sure, OK. I admit I could use a good massage.”
“Then six it is. I really appreciate this, Missy! I’ll see you then.”
“It’s a deal. Thanks Melissa.”
Melissa Dean had moved into the small town strip-mall shortly after it had opened. It wasn’t really a ‘strip’ mall, because it was shaped like a squared off letter C. The storefronts were still half empty when she signed the lease. The Stephen Terry Company office was directly across from her Healing Touch Massage office. He had moved in about month before she did.
After her divorce, Melissa had attended massage therapy school. When she moved into the Brentwood Center Mall, she had just graduated, and had no clients – except for family and friends who had let her practice on them while she was in school. After she had her office set up, she went along to visit the other shop owners and businesses, handing out her business card, with a coupon for a free one-hour massage, hoping to introduce some people to her services…and, of course, hoping that some of them would become paying clients.
That was how she met Steve almost three years ago. She remembered he hadn’t seemed all that interested, but about a month later, he called her and rather sheepishly made an appointment for an afternoon. Since then, she had seen him maybe 7 or 8 times a year. He wasn’t really a ‘regular’, but once in awhile he came for a massage. He worked at a desk – often very long hours – and his shoulder muscles and forearm muscles would get knotted up from typing at the keyboard. And his lower back. And his buttocks. He was usually in his office every morning before Melissa got to work, and his office lights were usually still on when she finished for the day.
He was a nice guy. Very shy to begin with. She knew he was divorced, because he had indicated that in the ‘marital status’ space on her new client form. Unlike lots of her clients, Steve didn’t talk much during his massages. At first, it was probably because he was shy. But after that, he often fell asleep during his sessions.
Melissa didn’t know much about him. She didn’t pry into patients’ personal lives like so many therapists do. He was divorced – but she never asked about it. He was born in September of 1965. He ran his own business – but she wasn’t exactly sure what he did. She knew he usually worked long hours. He dressed nicely in ‘business casual’ style. He drove a nice black BMW sedan. He was always friendly and very polite, whether in her office or when he saw her on the street. But that was about all she knew.
“Thank you for staying late, Missy,” Steve said as he came through the door. He usually called her ‘Missy’ instead of ‘Melissa’. He looked stressed.
“No problem, Steve. Really, I don’t mind at all. What’s bothering you? You mentioned your lower back. What else?”
Hanging his head slightly, he replied, “Awww…I’m just extra stressed.”
“Something at work?” she asked.
His face blushed a little, and he paused before answering. “Naw…I saw my doctor for my annual check-up yesterday….”
“What did he find, Steve? Anything serious?” she asked with genuine concern.
Bashfully, he answered, “Awww…he said my prostate is enlarged…and he wants me to see a urologist.”
“Is that all? Only enlarged? Did he say he found any lumps or anything?” Melissa asked with interest.
“I dunno. No…he just said it is enlarged.” Steve answered.
Melissa had had enough anatomy and physiology, combined with life experience, to ask the appropriate questions of Steve.
“Do you have to get up 3 or 4 times at night to…pee?”
“Yeah…maybe 4 or 5.”
“Do you…do you sometimes have to wait a few seconds before…urine starts to come out güvenilir canlı bahis siteleri when you feel the need to pee?”
“Yeah, sometimes. Well, most of the time…it comes out…you know…slowly.”
Now it was Melissa’s turn to blush. She had read a study on the internet that said that men who don’t have sex regularly, or who don’t masturbate regularly are more likely to have prostate problems. “Say, Steve, did you happen to read that article on-line last year about…well…it was some study and it said that…guys who don’t have…who don’t ejaculate regularly are more likely to have prostate problems.” Her face was crimson with embarrassment by the time she finished the sentence.
“Yeah, I did,” he answered, without emotion in his voice.
“I’m not trying to pry, Steve. But…um…well…how might that study apply to you, personally?”
With a faint nod of the head, he answered, “I guess I’d be in the category of men more likely to have prostate problems.”
Melissa knew he was divorced, but had no idea whether he was dating anyone. There were instances when she had glimpsed his penis as he turned over on the massage table, while she had held the sheet so it would not wrap around him or fall onto the floor. It happened commonly, and wasn’t any big deal. A few times, when he had fallen asleep, or was nearly asleep, he had gotten an erection while she was working on him. That happened with male clients with some frequency, and wasn’t unusual, either. Massages get the blood moving…including into the penis. When men turned over and rested face-down on the massage table, some laid on their penis, and others pointed it downward between their thighs. Steve was a pointer-downer. On a couple of occasions, he had fallen asleep in that position, and when she was massaging his inner thighs or buttocks, he had become erect. With his thighs spread apart, she could see that his erection was sizeable, and as far as she could see, he did something to remove the hair from his scrotum and penis. A few men do that, and most men don’t. She liked it that way, and had to avoid temptation to brush against his genitals as she worked on his inner thighs. She thought he was probably sexually active, because it looked like he kept his genitals free of hair. But maybe he just preferred it that way.
“I didn’t mean to embarrass you, Steve. Just asking…I mean…I know lots of doctors never ask questions like that,” Melissa continued. “Maybe you ought to re-read that article?” she asked with a little smile.
“Maybe so,” Steve answered with a slight grin.
“Well,” Melissa said, changing the subject, “go ahead and get undressed for me and get under the sheet, and I’ll be in with you in a few minutes.”
While she waited for Steve to get undressed, she remembered the articles she had read in recent years about prostate problems. Two articles in particular came to her mind: they were about the effectiveness of massaging the prostate as a treatment for enlargement. She had read each article a few times out of interest…and wondering whether the opportunity might ever arise for her to try that type of massage with a client.
Melissa began Steve’s massage routinely. He was lying face up, mostly covered by a sheet, and she began by massaging his forehead. His brow was more wrinkled than usual, so she commented, “Go ahead and relax, Steve. I know you’re anxious about this prostate thing…but…it’s probably just congested.”
She began to work on the tense muscles in his neck “You know I’m not a doctor…but…I do a lot of reading. Lots of middle-aged guys have some congestion of their prostate…which causes swelling. I’ve read it’s more likely in guys who sit most of the time – like you do in your office. And…like the study said…it’s more common in men who don’t…ejaculate regularly.”
Steve was glad his eyes were closed when Melissa said that.
She kept massaging and talking. “It’s probably no big deal, Steve. I think general practitioners nowadays are often paranoid, and refer things to a specialist when it isn’t really necessary. Everybody seems to have that CYA attitude.”
Melissa worked the tension out of Steve’s neck muscles with her experienced fingers.
“Tell me more,” Steve said, as he began to relax more deeply.
“I’ve read some articles from old journals – from the 1940s and 1950s – you know that used bookstore across town – they have old medical journals that they just about give away. Anyway, back then doctors used to recommend prostate massage when a man’s prostate was swollen.”
“Really? Prostate massage? How?”
Melissa continued to work her way to the tense muscles in Steve’s shoulders. She intended to sound ‘professional’ when she answered, “Yes, doctors used to massage prostates. They’d…insert a finger into the man’s rectum…and gently massage it…the prostate…and press out some of the congestion.”
At that, Steve opened his eyes briefly, “Really?”
“Yes. güvenilir illegal bahis siteleri But you won’t find medical doctors doing that nowadays. It’s probably too ‘old fashioned’. And there’s no big bucks in it. So it’s refer here and refer there, and have thousands of dollars of testing. And a biopsy.”
Steve’s eyes opened again. “Yeah, my doc said the urologist might want to do a biopsy. That doesn’t sound like something I want to do. Having a bunch of needles stuck in me anywhere – let alone there – doesn’t seem inviting.”
“From what I’ve read in a couple old journals, massaging the prostate isn’t all that hard. It’s just that most men can’t do it themselves. They just can’t…um…reach in far enough with a finger.”
“Docs really used to massage the prostate? Really?”
Melissa’s hands moved to Steve’s chest. Steve had more hair on his chest than most men, and, for some reason, Melissa liked that. “Yes, they preferred different positions, but the massaging was pretty much the same. They’d treat a man on a series of visits, and it usually cleared up the problem. The men could urinate normally, didn’t have to be up so often at night, and so forth.”
Steve’s eyes were closed when he thoughtfully responded with a “Hmmmmm.”
“I’ve read in massage books that there are reflex points on the body that tend to be sore when a man is having prostate trouble. And…when they are massaged…it seems to help, too.”
“Really?” Steve asked. “Like where?”
Melissa changed positions and began to massage Steve’s right arm, working toward his hand. “Those places are around the pubic area. An osteopath named Chapman figured out those kinds of reflex points. He called them ‘neuro-lymphatic’ reflexes. I bought an old book by him at the used bookstore.”
For a few minutes, both Melissa and Steve were silent as she finished massaging one hand, then changed positions to massage his other arm and hand.
Steve was still anxious about the visit to the urologist, but also felt himself relaxing as Melissa continued to massage him.
Melissa was actually hoping Steve would be willing for her to check out certain points, because of her curiosity…and because she was beginning to feel aroused by the prospect of potentially examining Steve.
Melissa continued in silence, finishing with Steve’s hand. Next she lowered the sheet that was draping Steve’s body to massage his abdomen. As she massaged along the course of Steve’s colon, she mustered the courage to ask, “Would you like me to check those reflex points?”
“Sure,” he replied. “Well…I guess so…. Yes, go ahead.”
Melissa lowered the sheet a little further, exposing Steve’s pubic hair. She pressed just above it, in the center. Steve flinched. “That’s tender,” he said.
“That’s one of the spots,” Melissa answered. Then she pressed right in the center of his pubic bone, and Steve winced again. It was tender right in the middle, and off to either side. “Ouch! Those are really sore. What’s up with that?”
Melissa nervously said, “Let me gently massage them, until the tenderness is all gone.”
“O….K…,” Steve replied. “Go easy, though. Those spots are really sore.”
Very gently, Melissa made small circular motions with her fingers over the tender areas. She started with the spot above his pubic bone, and in just a few minutes, there was no more pain.
“That’s amazing!” Steve said. “It doesn’t hurt at all now.”
Melissa was relieved that the technique she had read about actually worked. Next she moved to the spot in the center of his pubic arch. She felt his pubic hair under her fingers as she gently massaged it. She could tell from the expression on Steve’s face that the soreness was dissipating. “Feeling better?” she asked, after a few minutes.
“Yes,” Steve said, in a very relaxed voice. Steve felt his penis begin to stiffen a little. Because of embarrassment, he tried to think of all sorts of distracting things in his mind. Algebra problems. A visit to the dentist. The death of a family member. Anything so that he would not become fully erect.
Melissa noticed the partial transformation in Steve’s penis. It wasn’t so unusual. After all, people weren’t used to being touched in that area, so it was a normal reaction. She moved her fingers to one side, and found the next tender area, and began gently massaging it. The initial tenderness made Steve flinch again, but the soothing massage dissipated the tenderness, and it began to feel pleasant. Then he felt his penis beginning to stiffen again. He became aware that it was beginning to raise up the sheet that covered him. Furiously, he continued to attempt to distract his mind. He remembered getting hurt badly playing baseball. Accidentally hitting his thumb with a hammer. His divorce. Anything unpleasant.
But as Melissa continued to gently soothe the tender places on his pubic arch, Steve couldn’t help but be somewhat aroused. The gradual stiffening of Steve’s penis did not escape güvenilir bahis şirketleri Melissa’s attention. She saw the outline of it under the sheet, and felt the base of it fill with blood and begin to expand. Melissa couldn’t help but begin to be aroused, herself.
She finished rubbing the reflex points on Steve’s pubic bone, then moved toward his feet. She found tender points in the soles of Steve’s feet, and after they began to ease, she began to work up along his right leg…then his thigh. The drape was now bunched up over Steve’s pelvis, and his muscular legs and thighs were exposed. She worked upward, and as she moved above one of his knees, she said, “Those places were sure tender – just like the old diagrams showed.”
“Yeah, they were. But…in just a couple of minutes of you rubbing, they went from feeling sore to…feeling kind of good”
“I noticed,” Melissa said softly, as she applied oil to Steve’s right thigh.
Steve felt himself blush. But as he stared at the ceiling, it was almost as if he were alone in the room, so he spoke more freely than usual. “Sorry that I…er….”
“It’s OK, Steve. It happens. I’m not offended. In fact”, Melissa continued, “it was kinda nice.”
They were both silent again as Melissa moved his thigh toward the side of the table, and began to massage the inside of it.
Steve was thankful that the sheet was bunched up over his pelvis. He felt himself involuntarily twitch a few times as Melissa’s hands glided up the inside of his thigh. And Melissa noticed the twitching in her peripheral vision.
“So,” Steve asked, “this prostate massage thing…what all does it involve?”
“Well,” Melissa replied, ‘evidently it’s still used in parts of Asia and Europe as a common treatment for prostatic enlargement or congestion. You can ‘Google’ it.”
“Hmmm…,” Steve responded.
As she shifted her position to work on Steve’s other leg, Melissa said, “Yes, it’s a legitimate treatment. There are clinics that men go to for prostate treatment, and a big part of what they have done there is massage of their prostate. The therapist or the doctor massages the perineum – the space between the…um…anus and the…um…scrotum. Then they…um…insert a finger into the man’s rectum and massage the prostate itself.”
“Does it hurt?” Steve asked.
“I don’t know. Yeah, it can…or so I have read. I am guessing it is something like those places I massaged over your pubic area. They might be sore for a while…then the pain goes away. I’m just guessing, though.”
As Melissa moved her way up the inside of Steve’s thigh, he said. “It’s funny that it went from being really tender to…to not hurting any more…to…um…feeling kind of nice.”
There was silence again as Melissa worked her way closer to Steve’s genitals.
“You said they do it in different positions?”
“Yes, it seems that different doctors or therapists favor different positions. Some do it while the man is standing while bending forward over an exam table. Others when the may is lying on his side.I read in one text that a thick foam wedge is placed under the man’s hips while he is face-down,” Melissa said. Then she added, “I have a foam wedge of the kind they described using.”
Again, silence for several seconds. Steve tried to occupy his mind with silently saying the alphabet backwards as Melissa massaged very close to his genitals, hoping not to become completely erect.
“Do you know of any doctors around here who do the prostate massage thing?”
“No, I don’t.” Melissa replied. “Ready to turn over?”
She raised the draping sheet and Steve turned to the face-down position. He was one who positioned his penis so that it was pointing toward his feet when he was lying prone, and adjusted himself accordingly.
“It sounds like, well, WAY better than a biopsy. I don’t know what it would feel like, but I bet it’s a lot more comfortable than having a needle stuck up there. A buddy of mine had that done, and said they stuck him over a dozen times, and it was miserable.” His voice was relaxed and drowsy. “Maybe I can look it up online….” His voice trailed off.
Melissa began working on Steve’s upper back muscles. “Ummm…I’m willing to do it for you Steve,” she said.
His muscles instantly tensed. There was a pause of several seconds before Steve answered. “Missy, if I weren’t so afraid of having a biopsy, I’d never consider this at all. But…I admit that it frightens me. And…so…if you’re willing to try and help me out with this…I’m willing for you to give it a try.”
Again, silence, as Melissa kneaded the muscles of Steve’s back. His muscles were relaxing again.
“I…er…I’ve only read about it Steve. I’m no doctor. You know that. I’m just saying….it might be an alternative to seeing the urologist and having a biopsy.” Melissa said this in a professional tone, but she was feeling excited at the prospect.
As she moved her hands to Steve’s lower back, he said, “I’d like you to…um…go ahead and give it a try. That is, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind at all, Steve,” she answered, “but I have never done it before, you know.”
“I understand,” Steve answered. “But I definitely don’t want to have a biopsy. So go ahead. I guess. I mean, I dunno…if you’re sure you don’t mind.”
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