That One Time My Girlfriend And I Got Side-By-Side Erotic Massages In Budapest
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Last summer my girlfriend Katie and I spent 12 weeks in Europe. Four of those weeks we stayed in Budapest, Hungary. While we were researching Hungarian society, we learned that sex work is legal and all sex workers are part of a union, are covered by state funded healthcare, receive regular checkups, testing, and other support from the government. Brothels or pimping is illegal, which allows all sex workers to remain in complete control of their situations and their money.
So in light of all this, I decided to see if there were some things I could check off my sex bucket list while we were there. I discovered a website where women (or groups of 2 or 3 women) could create a profile and state what sexual services they offered and how much it cost. I talked it over with Katie, and we decided what would be a reasonable amount of money to spend.
In case you don’t already know, Katie and I are polyamorous which, among other things, makes mutually agreed upon random sexual exploits such as this a normal part of our relationship. Initially I had in mind that she might be an active part of the activities, but she wasn’t really into that as her bucket list is rather different from mine - she was into the idea of watching, from around the corner, like a voyeuristic point of view.
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So after more research, I reached the following conclusions: It was safer for me to go to the sex worker’s location than for them to come to our place. I should have no more money on me than what was agreed upon, and bring nothing else of value with me. I would find a place that was close to ours, and schedule something during the day.
At first I thought about just going with one woman, but then I realized that if I was going to do something like this then why not get the full bang for my buck, so to speak. So I decided to seek out groups of two or three women instead. And indeed I found multiple groups with good reviews and fair pricing. I was getting pretty excited at the idea.
Now all that was left was to navigate the sort of byzantine process of contacting them and scheduling an appointment. On the website they all have phone numbers that you call to schedule an appointment. On the day of your appointment you call them again for the final address. They do this not because the sex work itself is illegal, but since they aren’t allowed to have brothels, they work out of apartments instead. And the apartment owners usually aren’t into sex workers working out of their apartments, so they have to do it on the sly and potentially move from time to time.
This is where the process got complicated. After making a couple of attempts at reaching out to some of these women, I learned several unfortunate things. One, they almost never answer the call unless it’s from a local Budapest cell phone number. If it’s from a payphone, or a foreign number, they mostly don’t want anything to do with it. Two, even if they do answer, the vast majority will hang up immediately upon hearing you speak English. Many of them advertise that they speak English, but it turns out they really much prefer sex with locals, as it tends to be much less awkward for everyone involved, which I totally get. In fact, leading up to it I had wondered to myself several times how the communication part was going to work out once I arrived on the scene.
My options at this point were to either go and buy a local SIM card for my cell phone, just to call some sex workers, or I could call this other number I found, and pay a local person $50 to make all the calls and arrange everything for me. Neither of these things sounded like something I really wanted to do. And now I was starting to lose my motivation. So I decided to see what other types of sexual services were available in Budapest. It was then that I found several massage parlors that advertised some pretty interesting options.
I found one in particular that had a great website, great prices, great reviews, and promoted themselves as being very adept at the art of sensual massage, complete with “happy endings.” This seemed much easier, instead of some random woman's apartment, it was a proper storefront, and they stated straight up that the happy endings were a standard part of the service, were included in the price, and did not need to be negotiated with the practitioners or anything. I liked the sound of that. So I went to call and schedule an appointment.
It turns out that even though I have a vast technical skillset that stems from 16 years working in the I.T. field, I have nowhere near the skills necessary to correctly use a Hungarian payphone. I mean, how complicated can it be? You put the money in, dial the number, talk, right? Wrong. I probably dumped $5 worth of change in multiple payphones, over the course of a few days, and not once did I successfully complete a call. I Googled the process, followed everything step by step, and still nothing.
I kept getting error recordings indicating that I had done something incorrectly, but the recordings were all in Hungarian and I had no idea what they were saying. So I had no idea what to do differently beyond what the instructions I found on the internet said to do. This was starting to get ridiculous. And at this point Katie had lost any enthusiasm she might have had for this venture. I decided as a last resort to walk over to the place and just make an appointment in person.
Katie came along to keep me company and make sure the place seemed safe and legit. When we got to the place, I was expecting a big blinking sign and lots of other elements that made it obvious that this was a massage parlor. Instead it turned out to be an old apartment building that had been converted to office suites. As such, there was nothing indicating that we had arrived at a massage parlor. Instead I had to ring a buzzer and hope someone that spoke English answered on the other end.
I rang the buzzer and stood there nervously awaiting a response. This small female voice came through the speaker and responded with “hello,” and I breathed a sigh of relief. I said “hello, I would like to schedule an appointment for a massage.” And after a short pause she replied “hang on, I will come down and escort you inside.” A couple minutes later the door opened, and this lovely young Hungarian woman opened the door and led us inside and up the elevator to their suite.
“It was sort of an interesting thing to be introduced to some random beautiful woman that in 30 minutes was going to be giving me a hand-job.”
Once we entered, we were both put very much at ease. We were expecting the stereotypical neon lights, crappy decoration, and a general element of sleaze. But instead it was all very elegant and comfortable. Lots of fine rugs and fabrics hanging on the walls, plush furniture, and a very professional atmosphere. The woman seated us in a waiting room and offered us beverages while she went to get the schedule book.
When she got back, she introduced herself and explained how the process worked, what the services were, and how much they cost. She was confident, well spoken, and again, very professional. She made direct eye contact, did not seem sheepish or embarrassed, and spoke about the services like it was any other type of business. She was very sex-positive, but at the same time not overtly sexual, and made it very clear that she loved what she did. She had on what you might call sexy but professional business attire. And there were no other women walking around naked or in lingerie or anything.
As she went through the list of services that they offered, it became clear that they happily provide the same sensual massage services to women as well, and that we would both be very welcomed in their establishment. And in her cute little broken-English voice she says to Katie “I happen to be the only one here that can make yoni massage, would you like me to make yoni massage on you?”
I looked over at her and was a bit surprised when Katie said “yes, I would love to schedule an appointment with you.” We both thought it was funny that when we arrived at this place, Katie wanted nothing to do with it, and by the time we left, she was as excited about getting a massage as I was.
A week later we were back for our appointments, greeted by Katie’s practitioner, as well as the other woman that I had chosen. It was sort of an interesting thing to be introduced to some random beautiful woman that in 30 minutes was going to be giving me a hand-job, but what the hell I guess, this is what I signed up for. They led us into a room with candle-lit lighting, elegant paintings on the wall and other nice decorations. There was a thick queen-size mat on the floor that was perfect for the two of us. They told us both to take all our clothes off and lie face down on the mattress and they would be back in in a few minutes.
So far everything was perfect except for one major thing, the music. Apparently Hungarians think that Americans like to listen to sappy 80’s love ballads when they engage in this type of sexual activity. The playlist consisted entirely of Whitney Houston, Toni Braxton, and just about every other keyboard accompanied, female vocal based song from that era. It was pretty unendurable and we almost asked them to change it, but we didn’t want to spoil the process. Though I’ll admit, it just about killed my boner more than once. It sucked because they were all songs that we both hated, but that we also knew all the words to, so it was very distracting.\
“It was very clear at that point that the woman who ‘makes yoni massage’ knew exactly what she was doing.”
They came back into the room and started massaging our feet. They slowly worked up our legs and to our backs. They were skilled massage therapists, and at this point is was just like any other massage. The only difference was that when she got up to my upper thigh and groin area, she didn’t shy away like a regular massage would. She got up into everything, and I loved it. I got really turned on by this part, even though I was still lying face down.
After working our backs for a while, they had us both turn over. Neither of us were sure what to expect. But at this point it had been several minutes since she had her hands in my groin area, and I was not as turned on as I had been. Plus the music wasn’t helping matters. Eventually she started gently tickling my genitals, and things started moving in the right direction again, but I was still not fully aroused or erect and I was starting to wonder why. I had also come to the realization that all the time I had spent scouring the website, trying to determine the perfect practitioner for me was completely unnecessary because it turns out my eyes were pretty much closed the entire time. It really wouldn’t have mattered at all who was working on me.
Right about this time I heard Katie start breathing a lot heavier, and then less than a minute later she had a big orgasm. It was very clear at that point that the woman who “makes yoni massage” knew exactly what she was doing. And suddenly I came to a few more realizations. One that the pressure was now on me, as they were all waiting on me to have my orgasm. Two, getting jerked off by a complete stranger doesn’t actually help the process go any faster, and three, I can’t do anything myself to help the process along. I couldn’t say anything, or physically engage my practitioner, or anything. I simply had to lay there passively and hope she figured it all out. Which she did.
So let me back up a bit, once Katie had her orgasm, my practitioner started to kick things up a notch. She squirted a bunch of oil all over my genitals and started stroking. I got hard and got into it, but it still wasn’t happening quickly. I started thinking to myself that I wished Katie could just reach over and finish me off as she knows much better what to do and how I like it. But that wasn’t a possibility. She was going too fast and was just kind of doing it in a weird way. I was forced to detach from the situation in my head and just fantasize about a different scenario altogether. But eventually I came, it seemed like it took forever, but really it was just a few minutes. Then she cleaned me up and the two women left the room.
We just laid there, both of us just totally blissed out. I realized that getting a great professional massage, followed by an orgasm is a fantastic experience and that it’s a shame that it’s not more mainstream, because it’s a valuable service and really puts the cherry on top of an already great massage. There's just nothing like it.
By this time the two women had put their clothes back on and came back into the room with glasses of water for us. They told us we could both take showers, but we kind of liked the smell of the oil they used and didn’t really feel dirty otherwise, so we opted to just put our clothes on and head back to our apartment.
On the walk home we spent the whole time going back over the experience from each others perspective. It became apparent that in the end, Katie ended up having a much more enjoyable experience than I did. Which again was funny considering that I was the one driving the boat the whole time and that initially she had no desire to take part in this venture at all.
It turns out that for me, the dynamic was not ultimately what I was looking for. At the very least I think it would have been better if we were in separate rooms, only because then I wouldn’t have had the added pressure of the other two sitting there waiting for me to finish. But also I think I would have gotten much more enjoyment from an experience where I didn’t have to remain completely passive. I wanted to be able to share our energy and have a two-way exchange. Meanwhile Katie stayed completely present in her experience, and loved every minute of it. Her practitioner was indeed very adept and her soft feminine touch was exactly what Katie was looking for.
In the end we both agreed that it was totally worth the mere $60 each and, despite my pressure to orgasm, we’d do it again and were very grateful to have been exposed to such a sex-positive culture. To see how a society can embrace sexuality without any shame attached to it. And to acknowledge that sex is healthy, and that sex workers and sex work should not be treated with the level of shame and disdain that it is. We could all learn a few things from progressive countries like this.
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