Introduction – A Relaxing Intimate Massage Experience in Tokyo with a Male Masseuse
I’m a male masseuse offering sexual services to women in Tokyo and my name is Arashima.
I occasionally write my blog in English, and thanks to that, I’ve received requests for relaxing intimate massage from women of many different nationalities. This time, I’d like to share a special experience I had with a Chinese woman living in Hong Kong, whom I’ll refer to as Susan (not her real name).
She contacted me through my website, saying she would be visiting Tokyo a few months later. Alongside her plans to attend a K-pop concert and enjoy sightseeing, she wanted to try something she had been curious about for a long time—a relaxing and intimate massage from a male masseuse.
Here’s the message she submitted through my Contact form:
【Nickname】 ●●
【Age】 23
【Height】 168 cm
【Weight】 51–55 kg
【Nationality】 Chinese
【 Area where you want me to come 】 Shinjuku
【 Service contents 】
Kissing
Erotic oil massage
Body licking
Yoni massage
Fingering
Frigidity improvement
Cunnilingus
【 Your inquiry or any questions 】
Hi, I will arrive in Tokyo on October 25th.
Will you have availability on October 27th evening?
I wanted to try a relaxing intimate massage by a male masseur, and I found your site.
Susan explained that she had been single for a while and felt out of touch with her body. She was looking for a slow, sensual experience, not just physical pleasure but also emotional reconnection.
“I have been single for a while and feel out of touch with my body.”
“It’s good to hear that you enjoy giving pleasure. I think sometimes foreplay is too short, and it becomes difficult for women to enjoy the process.”
She also told me that she hadn’t had many sexual experiences and usually couldn’t become intimate with someone unless she truly liked and trusted them.
But after reading my blog, she said she felt confident that she could trust me—that I was the kind of male masseuse she could safely entrust her body to.
Due to travel delays on her side, our session had to be postponed twice. But eventually, we were finally able to meet in Shinjuku, Tokyo, for the relaxing intimate massage she had been curious about for so long.
There’s an old saying in Japan: “What happens during a trip doesn’t count as shame.”
Perhaps when we’re far from home—free from the eyes of people we know—we feel a little braver, more open to exploring the desires we usually keep hidden.
Many of my clients are the same: Japanese women visiting Tokyo from rural areas, or foreign women traveling here for business or pleasure. They reach out to me for a similar reason—because Tokyo offers a certain kind of anonymity and freedom.
Tips for Foreign Women on Sexual Massage Services in Tokyo
This particular session with Susan took place more than a year ago, in the middle of winter.
As I look back on that day, I’d like to share how the experience unfolded—step by step, sensation by sensation.
Sensual Yoni Massage for Women in Tokyo by a Japanese Male Therapist
Meeting in the Heart of Kabukicho, Tokyo
I arrived in Shinjuku just after 8 PM. The sky was already dark, but the neon lights of Kabukicho were shining brightly, casting colorful reflections on the bustling streets.
People moved in waves, brushing past each other in every direction. Tokyo felt alive.
Tonight’s client was a foreign woman.
It’s funny how things change with experience.
Back when I started offering relaxing intimate massage sessions to women in Tokyo, I used to get nervous—especially with foreign clients. My social awkwardness didn’t help either.
But now, even if there’s a language barrier, I can stay calm to some extent.
Maybe it’s because I know they’re usually more nervous than I am. After all, they’re in a foreign country, stepping into a totally new experience with a male masseuse they only know from a blog.
As I checked Google Maps and realized I was just a minute away from our meeting spot, I texted her: “Almost there.”
The air was freezing. The kind of cold where your hands go numb if you use your phone for more than a few seconds.
All I could think about was how nice a warm bath would feel.
Or, to be honest, how nice it would be to share that bath—pressed up close, my hands gently exploring her breasts from behind as we warmed each other up.
Yeah, sometimes I get a little carried away with my fantasies.
As I crossed the main road, I saw the hotel where we were supposed to meet.
It wasn’t your typical business or love hotel—it had a youthful, artistic vibe, with lots of greenery and even a trendy little café attached.
One thing I’ve learned from working as a male masseuse in Tokyo is that you get to know a lot of hotels. From cheap love hotels to high-end boutique ones, I’ve been to them all.
I guess that makes me a Tokyo hotel master… not that anyone gives out badges for that.
But where was she?
We were supposed to meet in front of the hotel entrance, yet she was nowhere to be seen.
Then I got a message:
“omg! Just finished bath ”
She was running almost 15 minutes late.
Was this a cultural thing? Or just her?
Either way, I was relieved. At least it wasn’t a no-show.
Five more minutes passed. I stood there, watching guests come and go, until finally, a woman who looked just like the photo she’d shared stepped out of the hotel.
She was wearing what she’d described: a knit cap, an oversized hoodie, and black pants.
Simple and casual—yet she somehow made it look effortlessly cool.
I walked over and said, “Hi, are you Susan? I’m Arashima.”
She looked startled at first, like she hadn’t noticed me.
Then she smiled warmly, touched my shoulder, and apologized for the delay.
It was sweet, really.
We exchanged a few words before heading inside. She walked ahead of me confidently, occasionally turning around to ask if I’d had dinner or how far I’d come.
Not only was she stunning, but she had a relaxed, friendly vibe that made her even more attractive.
In the elevator, I caught a glimpse of us in the mirror.
She looked effortlessly stylish—like someone you’d see in a K-pop music video.
And next to her stood… well, let’s just say I wasn’t exactly cover-model material. Tokyo’s winter air hadn’t done my face any favors, and my hair had clearly given up trying.
Still, I reminded myself that connection isn’t about looks.
If I could offer warmth, respect, and a little comfort, that might be more than enough.
Before the Massage – Settling Into the Room
The room looked like a standard hotel in Tokyo—simple, clean, and surprisingly warm thanks to the heater working overtime.
The TV was on, showing a debate program in English. I wasn’t sure if it was an American or British show, but it felt unexpectedly serious.
I remember thinking, “Oh, I didn’t expect her to be watching something this intellectual.”
Laughing, she glanced around the room and said, “It’s so small, right?”
True, it wasn’t spacious, and there was nowhere to sit except the bed. Even figuring out where to place my bag took a second. For a typical Tokyo hotel, though, the size was pretty average.
I asked her if I could take a shower and she let me.
About five minutes later, I came out of the bathroom to find Susan sitting on the edge of the bed, still watching TV.
Since there were no chairs, I sat down beside her—just far enough not to invade her space.
Then she turned to me with a bright smile and asked,
“What should I do?”
She didn’t seem nervous at all, which was a good sign. Still, I reminded myself to be mindful and take the lead properly so she wouldn’t feel awkward.
I asked a few questions to make sure she’d be comfortable during the session—
Did she want the lights dimmed?
Would she like music?
Was the temperature okay?
Then I gently explained that the massage would feel better without any clothing under the hotel robe.
“And please don’t wear anything under the gown,” I said with a smile.
“Okay!” she replied cheerfully, as if it was no big deal.
And with that, she disappeared into the bathroom to change.
Massage Begins – Creating a Calm, Trusting Atmosphere
And then—it was time to begin the massage.
I gently asked her to lie face down on the bed.
Susan slowly lowered herself onto the mattress, letting her arms fall loosely near the pillow, unsure at first where to place them.
The only light in the room came from a soft, amber-colored lamp by the bed, casting a warm glow over her hair, her shoulders, and down her back.
The rest of the room was quiet, still, and wrapped in a comforting silence.
I started from her legs, carefully working through the gown she was wearing.
Her skin was smooth and her legs were long and delicate—so much so that I worried too much pressure might leave a bruise.
I reminded myself to go slowly, to be extra gentle, and to check in with her often.
As a male masseuse in Tokyo offering relaxing intimate massage, I know how important it is to help someone feel both safe and at ease—especially if it’s their first time being touched this way by a man.
She told me she occasionally gets massages at salons, but this was the first time receiving one from a male therapist.
She mentioned more than once how good it felt, which was reassuring to hear.
After finishing her lower body, I asked if I could slide her arms out of the gown and lower it a bit to access her upper back.
Her back was beautifully shaped, with a natural curve around the waist that gave her figure a graceful elegance.
I warmed some oil in my hands and gently began to massage her pale, soft skin.
Every now and then, when I touched the sides of her torso or the inside of her upper arms, she would tense up slightly—maybe because it tickled.
It made me chuckle a little, and when she noticed, she laughed too.
Moments like that reminded me: relaxation isn’t just about silence or stillness.
It’s about comfort, shared energy, and being able to laugh together.
I hoped she was beginning to feel more relaxed—not just in her body, but in her mind, too.
From Relaxation to Intimacy – A Gradual Shift
After completing the back massage, I asked her to turn over so I could continue on the front side of her body.
I began again from the ankles, slowly gliding my hands upward toward the tops of her thighs.
Because her legs were long and slender, I had to shift my own position several times to reach her properly. It required a bit of effort—but I didn’t mind.
As I worked higher up her inner thighs, the strokes naturally brought my hands close to her most sensitive areas.
Though I wasn’t intentionally trying to stimulate her, now and then my fingers brushed ever so lightly against the soft curls of her pubic hair.
Gradually, she stopped speaking. The quiet between us became heavier, charged.
When I moved up to massage her stomach, her hands were slightly in the way, so I gently reached to shift them aside.
But the moment I touched her, she firmly grabbed my hand—her grip surprisingly strong.
She didn’t let go.
I hadn’t consciously shifted into a sensual massage yet, but clearly, something inside her had already begun to awaken.
Her breathing had quickened just a little. The energy in the room was changing.
So, I decided to follow her lead—gently transitioning into a more intimate massage experience.
Still holding her hand, I continued the massage with my other.
I moved in soft, slow arcs across her abdomen, allowing my fingers to gradually approach her breasts—but without rushing.
This kind of slow build-up, the anticipation, is just as powerful as the touch itself.
Even before I reached her chest, she let out a quiet, involuntary sigh as my fingertips lingered on her stomach.
It would have been easy to give in to the urge to touch her breasts right then, but I wanted to take my time—teasing her senses rather than overwhelming them.
Instead, I let my hand trail downward again.
Using a feather-light touch, I caressed the insides of her thighs, moving up and down in smooth, gliding strokes.
Her legs began to fidget and close inward instinctively, but I gently used my arms and legs to open her back up, continuing the sensual massage.
Finally, I asked her to turn over onto her stomach once more, returning us to where it all began—but now with a deeper, quieter tension in the air.
This is how a relaxing intimate massage in Tokyo by a male masseuse often unfolds—not rushed, not forced, but slowly shifting from calm to connection, from comfort to desire.
From French Kisses to Multiple Orgasms
It wasn’t just my fingers that explored her body—my lips joined in too.
Even just a gentle breath on her back made her body arch and writhe with soft moans.
With the lightest touch—barely making contact—my lips traced along her shoulder, nape, and neck.
As I inhaled the sweet, feminine scent of her hair and kissed her bare skin relentlessly, a strange sensation came over me—it almost felt like I was devouring her.
Just as I was about to tease her ear, she suddenly turned to face me.
Then she wrapped her arms tightly around my body and pulled me close.
I was a little surprised, but honestly, it made me happy.
“I wanna kiss you…” she said, her voice urgent and full of longing.
As if she could no longer stand being the one on the receiving end, she began kissing my neck and ears with wet, passionate sounds—again and again, wildly and without hesitation.
I usually encourage women to stay in a more passive role, but foreign women tend to act more instinctively, more boldly.
Sometimes, they take the lead—and take control.
Her breath grew heavier, more desperate—there was no doubt she was completely overwhelmed by pleasure.
Then her lips found mine.
We kissed like animals driven by instinct.
It wasn’t soft or sweet—it was raw and hungry, with our tongues intertwining, searching for each other again and again.
Every movement of our lips and tongues echoed through the room with wet, vivid sounds.
Even as our deep kiss continued, my fingers didn’t stop exploring her bare body—teasing the curves of her breasts and the sensitive area between her legs.
Each time I touched her, a fragile moan escaped into my mouth.
We kissed so long and so intensely, I felt like I was losing my mind.
Eventually, I let my lips trail down—past her ear, down her neck, lower still—to her breasts.
I watched her reactions carefully, deliberately delaying the moment I took her nipple into my mouth.
She kept begging—“faster, harder, more”—but I could tell she was already close to climax, so I took my time, drawing it out.
When I slipped my hand between her legs, she was soaking wet—more than ever.
So I decided to tease her even more, slowly working her entire body again with my fingers and tongue in a sensual massage.
Because the longer the build-up, the greater the release.
And finally, it was time to focus on that place.
I gently grabbed her legs and lifted them up.
There she was—beautiful, confident—and now, completely exposed in an M-shaped position, her most intimate part laid bare.
There was something strikingly erotic about the contrast: her elegant face, and this bold, vulnerable posture.
She didn’t resist.
She surrendered completely—offering me everything, without shame.
As my tongue touched her most sensitive spot, a sharp cry rang out—the loudest of the night—filled with sheer desire.
The sound of my lips sucking, wet and deep, only added to the intensity.
As I licked, she completely lost control.
She sat up slightly, grabbing my hair tightly and staring down at what I was doing.
Then, lifting her hips, she began pushing herself against my mouth, begging louder and louder for more.
Her voice cracked as she cried out, her body arching, her fingers twisting the sheets, almost sobbing as the pleasure overwhelmed her.
This was the same woman who, before we met, kept telling me how nervous she was—wondering whether she should even go through with it.
And now, she had surrendered herself fully to pleasure.
That made me genuinely happy.
In the end, it seemed she came over and over again.
Her beautiful face twisted in ecstasy, her entire body shaking with aftershocks—no matter where I touched, she trembled.
Eventually, her body gave in.
“Stop… let’s take a break,” she whispered.
She slowly sat up, her skin glistening with sweat, then suddenly laughed softly and wrapped her arms around my neck, pulling me into a deep, strong embrace.
We collapsed into the bed together.
And once again, we kissed passionately.
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A Bittersweet Goodbye After a Relaxing Intimate Massage in Tokyo
Our time together was coming to an end, and with it came that familiar, quiet sense of sadness that sometimes follows deeply intimate moments.
She kindly offered to let me stay the night—saying the room had been booked for two people anyway—but I had to decline due to work commitments the next day.
When I turned the lights on to get ready to leave, she instinctively reached to cover her body, as if snapping back to the moment before we met. The way she shyly tried to hide herself made her seem adorably vulnerable.
She fixed her tousled hair, got dressed again, and walked me all the way to the hotel entrance.
We came from completely different worlds—different jobs, ages, hobbies, even nationalities.
In everyday life, our paths likely never would have crossed.
And yet, here we were, brought together by nothing more than a shared desire to give and receive a relaxing intimate massage from a male masseuse in Tokyo.
It was a fleeting connection, yes—but one that felt incredibly real and unforgettable.
Whether we’ll ever see each other again is impossible to know. That’s something only fate—or timing—can decide.
We parted ways in front of the same hotel where we first met.
As I walked away, she waved at me with a radiant, carefree smile—one that will stay in my memory for a long time.
Later, on the train home, I noticed the faint scent of her perfume still lingering on my shirt from our goodbye hug.
And just like that, my mind drifted back to the night we shared, pulling me into a quiet, sentimental mood as the city lights blurred past the windows.
