Date & Time of Session: October 4th, 2016
Location: Central
Link:
www.kamaspahk.com
Agent: Kama Spa - Chloe
Nationality & Language: Chinese (Mandarin)
Age: late 20s, at most 30 (guess)
Face: 4/5
Body: 4/5
Skill: 5/5
Service: 5/5
Price & Session Length: 900 for 90 massage, no tipping.
Repeat: Yes!
I went to Kama last night after a hiatus of 3 months. Chloe asked me why I stopped dropping by. Various reasons, I said, ranging to “I’ve been traveling” (partly true) to “I was busy” (lie). In fact I was so non-busy that since July I have been rereading everything written by Ernest Hemingway, in chronological order. I fell in love with a woman so ridiculously out of my league that reading Hemingway is now the only pleasure of my life. And Hemingway I read with a vengeance, page by page, from “The sun also rises” all the way to Kilimanjaro. It was at “Death in the afternoon” when I got Joy’s call, asking me to get my bum back to Kama and try “the most phenomenal massage you will ever experience”. From Chloe, that is.
Chloe was wearing a tight black lace miniskirt that revealed her long legs and the ample cleavage. She is tall. On heels (they were purple!) she was almost as tall as me (180 cm). Legs and cleavages are the standard issues of Kama since day one and I was pleased that some traditions are not changed. But she started by asking a strange question: “do you want a massage or a real massage?”
“Real massage please,” I answered. Joy promised a phenomenal massage and all phenomenal things, in my experience, are “real”.
What followed was the most extraordinary massage I have experienced for a really long time. It was a massage that deserves a report. Kama has been reviewed 61 times in only 10 months, with most reports being overwhelmingly favourable. So it hardly needs any publicity. But I think Chloe’s massage was so completely unlike other Kama massages that she might represent a new direction of this trendsetting spa.
The first two things you noticed about Chloe: the pupils of her eyes were unusually large, and that tiny lines formed around her eyes when she smiled. These two little details made her easily the cutest girl in the latest lineup of talents at Kama. Chloe has a classical face: straight nose, thin lips and intelligent eyes – like a beauty from classical Chinese paintings. When I mentioned this to her, I was met with stone silence. Now here is the third thing about this woman: she doesn’t do small talks. She is a professional massage therapist, no nonsense, and with qualifications in Chinese medicine and acupuncture. Doctors don’t flirt; and this one was determined to impress me with her genuine skills.
One minute into the massage you noticed the fourth thing about Chloe: she is a very strong woman. Chloe is tall, with a built of a Kung Fu master. She is by no means fat, or overly muscular, just very strong. Later, 84 minutes into the massage, when I buried my face in her bosom, I could feel how well toned her body was and how her natural healthiness permeated her skin.
That was indeed a "real" massage. When my 90 min was up, Chloe hadn’t even finished the dry massage part. Her “real” massage was a methodical and meticulous working on every single muscle of my body. Most HJ massage parlours nowadays tend to offer only very mediocre (and short) massages followed by some sort of prolonged foreplay. Since the foreplay element is what most guys are after, there is no incentive for the providers to do anything different. But Kama seems to determine to revert this trend, by reminding us that the primary purpose of massage parlours is to provide good massages. And Chloe appears to be their secret weapon for this mission.
Chloe’s massaging style involved naming my various chakras before squeezing them with her exceptional powerful grip. She warned me whenever the next squeeze would be particularly painful, and she was invariably right: it was very painful. Later, she explained that the pain was due to blockages in my circulation and she must force them open with her rubbing and pressing, thereby inflicting more pain. She was able to trace my sciatic nerve from my hip all the way to my feet just with her grip. This is a feat that only a professional anatomist can pull off (trust me: I know). And she could do more, e.g., playing my hamstring tendons like a harp. Within minutes, I was covering in sweat, and had to hold back my scream. Mercifully, while inflicting maximal pain, she also showed me extreme tenderness, constantly hugging me and holding my hands. Her professionalism won me over. At one point, when she locked my head in her arms and used her elbow to grind on my head like a wrestler, instead of fighting back I submitted myself to this ordeal. Inch by inch she elbowed my head, while gentling commenting on how I got myself so tired and stressed. I felt as if my head was going to implode…. but slowly I started to feel my skull bones were being realigned. When it was over, and I was lying there in sweat, I felt a rush of energy into my brain, and I had never felt awake before.
The eroticism of Chloe’s massage came at the paper-thin line between the unbearable pain she caused to your body and the intimacy with her own body when she was inflicting the pain. The sheer power of her elbow and the soft roundness of her chest were pressed on your naked body at the same time. The pain and the joy resonated and multiplied. It’s all down to blood flow, she said. To help with my insomnia, for example, all she needed to do was to manipulate my carotid arteries from the bottom of my neck to the back of my ears. It was morbidly painful, but after that I felt totally refreshed. Even my hearing felt clearer. After I dried my tears, a stupid idea came to my – now freshly oxygenated – brain: if her massage could get more blood flowing into my brain, could she get more blood to my other extremity? The answer came when I turned over and she started to massage my upper thighs. She pressed on my groin, inducing an instant erection. It was as if she simply pressed a button on my body and switched on my penis: there was nothing I could do about it. Everything was done with clinical precision, and without a slightest embarrassment. Like a nurse, she explained the various pressure points that controlled the blood flow to my penis, and like a magician, she proceeded to demonstrate to me. That was truly amazing. Apparently, if you let this woman work on you once a week, and let her work on your blood flow, your sexual prowess will improve.
After the massage, when Chloe left me in the room to fetch me a cup of water. My whole body felt spent with aches. She has intensely worked on every single muscle fibre of my body. My entire being was humming with pain but at the same time oozing feelgood hormones, like after a rigorous gym session. Lying there on the massage table, my body felt light and totally rejuvenated.
Chloe is obviously medically trained and has an extraordinary physique. Her massage has no GFE. Rather, it had a feel of scientific precision. Hers was like a session with a beautiful chiropractor who is not embarrassed to touch your private parts. It is a celebration of human anatomy. I was so at awe of her skills that if I were a publisher I will commission her to write a book about her massage techniques.
I did not touch Chloe, nor did I ask her for undress. I love massages the way Ernest Hemingway loved bullfighting: it’s not just about the deed itself, but more about the elaborate skills that are required in bullfighting that elevates the killing of bulls to an art form. On this forum, many people tend to rank various sex acts in a hierarchy: FS on the top, followed by BJ (bareback above covered), with HJ at the bottom. Massage parlours only offer HJ, therefore they are at the lowest level of the sex industry. In fact, getting a HJ in a massage place is only a little small step ahead of masturbation. These people can’t understand why someone is happy to pay $900 for a HJ, when jerking yourself off is free. To me, this is a rather conservative view. Jerking off is like slaughtering a bull. It’s killing for a primitive need. A good massage, however, can only be done by a genuine artist, a matador. When done well, manual stimulations are far better than sex. It is bizarre, even a bit depressing, to ask a skillful masseuse like Chloe, who spent a decade in training, to strip and spread for you. It’s like going to a top cocktail mixologist and ask him to pull you a beer, and then complain that the beer is much more expensive than the canned beers at 7-11.
So it was my first visit to Kama in months. It was very nice to see how the place has flourished, with a conspicuous increase of local customers. Later I was told that Kama was “discovered” by some Chinese-language hobbyist sites, and the locals have been flocking there to pay their visits. In a way, Kama has unwittingly replicated the success of Lan Kwai Fong: it celebrates the unique internationalism and work ethics of Hong Kong, starting off as a hidden heaven for lonely and nostalgic Gweilos and then rediscovered by the locals as an exotic brand. Kama does not compete with other massage joints but they have a very clear idea of which direction they want to take. After all, they were the first to abandon the ridiculous tipping system in this business. Chloe's massage seems to represent a new departure – serious, therapeutic massages, more "health" than "fun", more cultivating your prowess than depletive ejaculations. Or, let's say, more Ernest Hemingway than F. Scott Fitzgerald...
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Last edited by zebra at 5-10-2016 20:59 ]
