Dusk at 37^th Street, Newport Beach, California. I had just finished an hour-long sunset session. The waves weren't the greatest. They were sectioned and choppy, but I wasn't complaining. I paddled hard all day and only caught one good one. But that was really all it took to feel the thrill I was hoping for when I made the five-minute drive. I had found good parking, and the water temperature was around 72 degrees on this fine evening in late June.

           
As I got out of the water, I was winded from paddling so hard for so little. As I walked the beach back to my car, I remember stopping for a second to observe the setting summer sun. I had just graduated college a couple weeks ago and decided to bleach the tips of my brown hair to pump myself up for the summer. It was a bit more substantial than just buying a few new pairs of shirts or something, but I figured "fuck it." My days as an undergraduate college kid were over.

           
As I loaded my surfboard into my Camry, a car pulled up next to me. A hot Phillipino chick in her late twenties rolled down her window and asked if I was leaving. I told her that I was. Usually, when this happened, the car would actually back up and get ready to take my spot, but she was going nowhere. She wanted a conversation. I smiled, and let her start it.

Her: So do you live around here?

Me: No, I'm moving down here in September. Right now I'm living in Costa Mesa. What about you?

Her: Yeah, my uncle lives on 45^th street, so I come down here a lot. (pause) So do you work out?

Me: (smiling) Yeah, I try. I go like four days a week.

Her: Yeah I can tell. You have a nice back.

Me: Thanks

Her: So do you want a massage? (what the fuck? Did she just ask me if I wanted a massage? I tried to act poised, but I had a boner forming, and my voice wavered when I answered)

Me: What?

Her: (she was reaching in her purse for a pen and paper while speaking) Yeah, I need practice hours because I'm trying to be a professional masseuse. So it would be free of course.

Me: Yeah totally.

Her: (handing me her number) Does tonight work for you?

Me: Yeah that works.

Her: Okay, call me tonight.

Me: Alright.

 
I hopped in my car, along with my semi-erect cock, and drove home. I realized that she basically just screamed at me, "You're hot, fuck me tonight" And the only question I had asked her was, "What about you?" She did all the work. It had never been so easy in my life. I felt like a broke fifth grader that found a $20 bill on the ground. Opportunities like this just didn't happen in real life. Did they? I hoped to find out later. When I got home, I considered masturbating to this chick, but decided I may want to save my ammo for later.

           
Some fraternity bros were having a kegger at their apartment in Irvine that night. I thought I'd check that out before I called massage chick. I got to the party and realized how old I was. The party consisted of 30 guys and 8 chicks. Maybe three years ago, I would have thought it was cool, but I got bored fast and had to get out of there. I went outside and called massage chick. She answered after one ring. She said she was having dinner with a friend and that I should meet her in the Albertson's parking lot at 11PM. Perfect.

           
When I left the kegger it was 10PM. I thought I'd go home and freshen up a bit. Maybe she didn't want to fuck and really did want to give me a massage. Either way, I had to be ready for any situation. I manscaped, hopped in the shower, and got ready. Being the dipshit college kid that I was, I still hadn't made the transition from board shorts to pants yet. So I threw on my favorite pair of flower board shorts and a blue Hawaiian shirt. It was the last wearable shirt in my armoire (I hadn't done laundry in over two weeks and it was either the Hawaiian shirt or a wife beater). I'm sure it wouldn't have mattered anyway.

           
I drove down to the Albertson's parking lot three blocks from where we had met earlier. When I pulled up, I found her talking to some 30-something dude. As she saw me pull up, I got out of my car and stood against the door, maybe 50 feet away from the pair (I wish someone had taken a picture of my outfit. Flower board shorts. Flower shirt. Long white socks. I looked like the best player on the All-Douchebag First Team). Ten seconds later, she approached me. She walked right up to me and began making out with me as if a tidal wave was coming our way, and this was the last sexual contact she would ever have. She was an animal. She continued to kiss me ferociously. I tried to keep up with her with no avail.

           
When she finally gave me some air to breathe, she told me to get in my car and follow her. She led me to some secluded side street near 50^th Street and parked in a dark corner. I got out of my car and walked up to her window. She motioned for me to get in.

           
I hopped in the passenger seat. She had her purse on her lap and was putting on lipstick. After a couple moments of silence, she said, "Take off your pants, I'll take care of you." Holy shit! She was a dick masseuse! I put my seat back and unvelcroed my board shorts. My penis flopped out and she went in immediately. Feeding her with my dick was like feeding a thirsty peasant in the desert an ice-cold bottle of Gatorade. She NEEDED it. She continued to suck away.

           
She was going crazy. Her head was corkscrewing in synchronization with her hand. She was good. All the sudden she stopped and started talking to me. She told me that in her country (Philippines) the men always got their way in bed and that the women were generally submissive. I thought she was full of shit. She was OBVIOUSLY talking about herself. She went on to explain how she liked having her head pushed down and wanted me to be rougher. I gave her what she wanted. I stopped her in mid-sentence and put my hand on the back of her head and pushed her head down to my dick. I pushed it all the way down and she began to make a "barglarglgle" noise. I took my hand away to see if she was ok, and she told me not to stop. I continued to manufacture exponential amounts of slobber from her, and she continued to produce. The gagging noises escalated. Had a naïve blind man been hiding in the back seat, he probably would have thought a brutal murder was taking place.

           
When I finished, she didn't swallow. She slowly arose from my lap with puffy cheeks and frantically rolled down her window. She spat my giz onto the pavement to make a cartoony "splat" noise. She then brought up a water bottle from her purse and started swishing it around in her mouth. She splat the water out the window and rolled the window up. She told me that her uncle's house was right around the corner and she had better get going. She tried to make out with me again, but I turned away from her cum-coated mouth. She understood. She started asking me when she could see me again. "Whenever," I lied. She said, "Well, we should go see a movie tomorrow. We'll sit in the back, and I'll blow you." I agreed, but secretly disagreed.

She was a blowjob princess. As much as I admired that, I couldn't go through with it again. Girls like her are really just a one-time ride. Her "movie blow" sounded more like a date in disguise to me. I didn't want to take the chance that she had even the faintest feelings for me. You never know with this type. Emotional chaos might ensue. I told her I'd call her tomorrow and took off. It was a lie, but I thought I was being fair. After all, it was dick she was after that day, and it was dick I gave her. She got what she wanted. I got what I wanted. We both won.

I went surfing again the following evening. The sun-kissed waves were a little better. Unlike the previous session, I caught several good rides. I barely even had to paddle for them.