Mild mannered men of the world unite! Join me, fellow losers, sad sacks, milquetoasts, middle managers, pencil pushing intermediaries and low level bureaucrats. Shed the stigma of your male pattern baldness, the embarrassment of your couch potato gut, the unsightly back hair and acne scars and join the revolution already in progress. Yes, brothers, the time is now. Untie those crepe soled earth shoes and step into a shiny pair of patent leather spectators. Put a garish feather in your hat and walk with me, there is strength in numbers and the world is ours for the taking.
Throw off the veil of your meek subservience to your corporate ass-kissing bosses and walk with me, for together we can walk like giants, like kings, like the men we were born to be.
The secret, my unholy army of the night, is as simple and plain as the shitty doughnuts they use to shut us up in the conference rooms and kitchenettes of the midtown plantations that enslave us. Cast aside your doughnut shackles and join Team Otis. My brothers, our time is now.
I have seen the light, dear friends, and it looks a hell of a lot like a handjob. Not just any handjob but an exquisite, perfect, windows-of-the soul shaking handjob such as one might receive from a pretty young girl who says she's "from Japan" and works in the shadow of the Empire State building at "Dokyo Spa."
There are many ways a mere man may become a giant, many ways a mere mortal may become a god. All you need is $120 and the balls to ask for what you want, the guts to take what you need, and the decency to pay for both at basic market rates. With these tools of my trade and nothing more, I walked out of an elevator on 34th street and into a spacious spa with two table showers, private rooms, and attractive young girls who claim to be Japanese.
Are they really Japanese? Fuck if I know. When the revolution comes it will not worry whether these girls are Japanese, Korean or from Mars. And when a beautiful young woman has my cock between her tits, I don't ask to see her passport.
Walk tall, brothers. At 5'10" you are a giant here. Laying on that table shower I felt like nothing less than King Kong as "Lisa" - a 20-something girl in a little black dress soaped my cock and giggled as it grew.
Take note, brothers, when the massage begins with dim lights and a little black dress hiked up to the girl's waist, you are nobody's wage slave anymore. Your henpecked days are behind you and your destiny is yours to own.
The massage will be adequate but you will not yet feel like the king you can be. When the little black dress came down without my asking and a pair of beautiful B or C cup boobs was staring me in the eye, my fate was in my hands but my cock was about to be in someone else's.
I walked in the door a mere man, but without a word I was a giant, a god. Lisa ran her tongue along the entire length of my body and rubbed her spectacular tits along my back and my ass. She teased and touched and finally I flipped and she ran her tongue from head to toe again, stopping to lick my balls as she tugged on my growing cock.
Join Team Otis, brothers, and live the life you deserve. I ran my hands over he breasts and ass as she oiled up my cock and started rubbing it slowly, then faster and harder until I hit that peak and finally came. As the lights came up I vowed that I would no longer allow my fellow travelers to walk the streets of this city like meek excuses for men again. I vowed that I would walk the earth and preach the gospel as I now know it.
"For $80 house / and 60 tip / You can be more than a man. / For an hour / you can be a god."
Join me brothers. You have nothing to lose but your dignity and some 20 dollar bills. I implore you to join me. I wanna see a sea of hands out there. I wanna see those hands waving 20's. I wanna see those hands say "I deserve it." Because you do, brother, you really do.
P.S. Don't bother with the $140 "bodyslide". You won't need it.
http://newyork.backpage.com/BodyRubs/new-management-japanese-style-rub-bodyslide-22/23655393