Nervous, oh yeah. The Touch of Eden massage parlour, just below Barrington St. in Halifax. It was 1981 and I still remember the beaded curtains and the amateur murals of paradise. I paid the base rate at the front ($30.00 I think), showered, then went in with the attendant. She was slender, late 20's, with straight black hair and alabaster skin. She was quiet, competent and serious. I was shaking, excited and nervous, not knowing what to expect, but scared that I would have to make the first move. She gave me a very thorough massage and was going over my back and whispered in my ear. "If you want a reverse, or the house special by hand, then it's $20.00 more." Her moist breath in my ear nearly ended it right there! I couldn't move on that terry towel I was laying on, the sensation would have been too much. My brain locked. I was trying to figure out if that was $20 each, or for both. I croaked out a yes please, then she smiled for the first time and said, "Which one?" Both. She lay on her back. My hands were shaking like a runaway vibrator while I went over her body. I spent as long as I could just feeling her amazing skin, I felt privileged just to touch her, then slowly worked up enough nerve to massage her inner thghs and around her trimmed pubic hair. I wouldn't go any further, looking for approval or an invitation. She was getting excited, I could feel the swelling of her warm skin and the aroma of musk was getting heavy. She gave a small sigh then took my hand and directed my fingers over her wet labia. After two slow passes, still holding my hand, she brought it up to my nose and I breathed deeply of her scent. My nose and lip were wet from my fingers and my head was swimming. She sat up, directed me on to my back and lightly went over my chest and belly with her nails. I was shivering with lust and pressing my upper lip against my nose to intensify the aroma, when she reached for a small bottle of heated oil, put some on her hands and leaned over me so her head obscured my view. The sensation of the oil on my balls was electric, but it was her technique on my cock that literally blew my mind. Everything I was feeling made me believe she had my cock in her mouth. Lips passing over the head, tongue swirling, then pressing slowly to a full deep throat, withdrawing back to a swirling tongue. It was all hands and she didn't get to do it twice. I was gone, my fingers digging permanant impressions into the edge of the table. I dressed, moving like a zombie. Left another $20 and walked out into the night with just enough money left for a drink.
I haven't thought about that in years, but your question brought it back like it was yesterday. Thanks.