Stories : The Massage Client
I have seen and heard practically everything you can imagine during my ten years as a massage therapist, and am no longer capable of being surprised. I’ve learned long ago that it is easier to work on straight guys rather than gay ones. It’s not that I have anything against gay guys, as I am way more into men than women, but the reality of massage clients is nothing like the hot guys you see on TV and movies, so being hit on by my clients is rarely a fun experience. I rent a massage studio in an upscale gym here in Dallas which attracts successful, and generally straight, businessmen.
My 3:30 showed up a few minutes early, which was fine as my Wednesdays are typically slow. The guy was several inches shorter than I am, maybe 5’9”, with cropped dark hair, striking grey eyes, and a day’s worth of stubble. I’m guessing he was in his early thirties. Like most of my clients, he had already changed out of his street clothes in the locker room and was wearing a white t-shirt, grey sweats and black sneakers. The guy was hot, yet he seemed very shy as he explained that his girlfriend had given him a massage certificate as a gift, and that he had never had a professional massage before. I chatted with him for a few minutes about the gym, the shitty season the Mavericks were having, and even the weather to put the guy at ease before getting down to business. His certificate was for a 90-minute deep tissue massage and my next client wasn’t until six.
I explained he should get as undressed as his comfort level allowed and to begin face down on my table. He seemed hesitant, so I pointed out the draping sheet he could use for modesty and turned away from him to wash my hands and dim the lights.
I turned to find him naked on top of the sheet. So much for shyness. His baggy clothes had hidden how ripped and muscular he was: His back was wide and smooth and his lats and shoulders were huge, but all I could inappropriately fixate on was his beautiful ass. Take it from someone who looks at 8 – 10 asses a day, this one was exceptional: Perfectly muscled, dimpled where it pulled into his tight waist, and lightly hairy. I enjoyed staring at it the entire time I worked on his shoulders and back, and then I worked my way down the small of his back.
He flinched as soon as my fingers brushed his ass, so I pulled away and asked if he would prefer I skip over his glutes. He didn’t answer at first and I thought he may have fallen asleep, but then he finally responded with a soft “no, but my butt is really sensitive.”
I began rubbing his glutes, which sounds pretty gay but they are a major point of stress often the source of low-back pain. His hips began the slow, tell-tale gyration I’ve seen hundreds of times indicating he was hard and extremely turned-on by the fact I was rubbing his ass. I’m generally very cautious with “straight-boys”, but I am an ass-man and I wasn’t about to let go of this opportunity. I began kneading his ass, spreading his cheeks apart, which was clearly driving my client crazy.
“Is this OK?” I asked after playing with his ass for a good ten minutes. He moaned a response, and then turned his head to the side to look back at me. My right hand was leaning against the table for balance and he reached back and grabbed my wrist, then started rubbing my forearm. He lifted his ass off the table and slid down towards me, practically handing his ass to me. A quick glance at the clock let me know I had 90 minutes before my next client was due to arrive, so I grabbed my client by the hips and pulled him off the table toward me so that his feet were on the ground and his chest was flat on my table, perfectly displaying his amazing ass. He whispered “oh my god” over and over, yet did nothing to stop me, so I dropped to my knees and traced my tongue from the base of his balls all the way up and over his hole. He tensed and I would have sworn he wasn’t breathing, but he remained completely passive. I reached between his legs and grabbed his cock, which was throbbing and wet with pre-cum. I pulled it down against the table so that the head was facing the floor before burying my face back in his ass. I continued licking and chewing his hole while keeping a tight grip on his cock to keep him in place. There were several occasions where I could tell he was on the brink of shooting, during which I would pull back and let him catch his breath. My cock was straining against my briefs and I wanted to fuck him so bad it was making me dizzy, but I knew that would be pushing my luck and I wasn’t ready for the fun to stop.
He began squirming and writhing, working up a good musky sweat, and he began panting as though he had never had his ass eaten before. At this point, I knew that I owned him and I had to again resist my maddening desire to fuck him. I feared that even touching my dick would put me over the edge, so I focused instead on driving my client insane. I lubed up his shaft with massage oil and began slowly stroking him. He lifted his right knee up on the table pushed his ass into my face, giving it to me. I stroked him until I knew he was close, then let go of his cock and spread his cheeks apart with both hands. I pushed my tongue into his tight little hole, which made him gasp loudly. I did it again, and again, until he was reduced to a hard whimper. I knew it was time to reward him for his good behavior, so I resumed stroking his cock and attacked his hole.
“Oh my god, oh my god,” he began again, and then he convulsed off the table as three gushers of jizz shot out of his cock. I milked every last drop of cum from his shaft as he moaned and gasped, and continued stroking him long after until he finally pulled away.
I leaned back and stood up, admiring the view. His back and glutes glistened with sweat and oil, and a huge pool off cum lay at his feet. I gave him a few minutes to come down from his orgasm-high, then rubbed my fingers lightly up his legs and ass. He shuddered, stood up, and sighed. I could tell he was embarrassed, so I told him to take his time while I washed my hands. He dressed slowly, clumsily. He took the bottle of water I offered him without making eye contact. He pulled a $100 bill from his wallet, but I gently pushed it back. “The massage was paid for,” I said, “and I couldn’t think of a better tip than what you’ve already given me.”
He nodded, shyly. “I’m sorry I made so much noise,” he said. “I don’t want to get you in trouble. Do you give massages at your house?”
I smiled. “You’re bound to find yourself on the receiving end of a pounding if you bring that sexy ass to my house, though.”
“That’s fine,” he whispered as he let himself out.
I was sure I would never hear from him again, but my straight-boy called for an appointment at my home five weeks later. I guess I can still be surprised after all.
Lorenzo aka SoCalTuffguy