When is a massage......a message?

We are leaving Vietnam today so Else and I went for a massage. I made the mistake of choosing a “Traditional Vietnamese” massage. My little female masseuse looked so small and cute, like an Asian Shirley Temple, but she had hands of steel and I’m sure she was thrown out of Sadam’s Prison Guard for cruelty. I do not speak Vietnamese but I am certain that the instructions she yelled at me included the words, “OK fatboy………let the games begin!”

I was told to keep my panties on but I don’t know why because she pulled them down sharply and “slipped” inside them at will. Else was lying on the next table too! She was rough, very rough, I swear she had horse’s hooves for hands. Her technique was a combination of Shiatsu and road digging. Else could only laugh as I begged for mercy. Then she got some flame heated cups and dragged them across my back. The oil on my back sizzled each time one of those glowing glasses was pressed against me. They were supposed to increase my energy flow but they only increased my tear flow. "I swear I wasn't in the Vietnam War, I swear it!" I cried but she ignored me.

Instead, she massaged my legs and on her first rub she slid inside my knickers and punched me in the Family Jewels. I thought it was an accident, after all oil is slippery, but when it happened for the third time I shouted “Hey Rocky, leave at least one of them working!” Else, by this stage, was in hysterics.
Anyway, the swelling has gone down now and I can almost walk in a straight line again. Next time I think I will go for something less painful and order the “tooth pulling”.