A Different Kind of Massage

   I’d started working at the East Village Amerik spa three weeks prior and I really liked my new job. A few months before, I’d completed my professional training as a massage therapist, had started my own business giving massages in work places – which was going really well –, but I hadn’t turned down my friend Vanessa when she’d called me to sub at Amerikspa because I wanted to get as much experience as I could. Plus, they had a great insurance and health care package.

   That morning, Samantha, the weekend manager, had told me I’d have three clientsthat day: two guys – Carl, a businessman from Philadelphia who always came in when he was in town and was already turning into one of my regulars, and Mr. Davenport, an airline pilot who had said he was suffering from sciatica and needed a serious treatment – and one lady.

   I always felt a little uneasy when massaging female clients because I didn’t want them to think that I was touching them in an inappropriate way. In class, guys were always told to be extra careful because we’re unfortunately often thought of as sex fiends or perverts who only got into massage therapy as an excuse to get into people’s pants. Female therapists, on the other hand, were always warned to watch out for perverts or sex fiend clients who would try to get a little extra or would start groping them during the massage.

   Since I’m gay, I always thought this was odd because I felt I needed to keep my sexual orientation from my male clients – they might not want a gay man rubbing them all over if they thought their massage therapist might find it sexually arousing to work his hands on their bodies – and that my gayness would be an asset with my female clients who would feel more at ease with a gay man rubbing them down as they feel more comfortable with a gay hairdresser or shoe salesman.

   Anyway, when I got to the spa, Samantha was a particularly foul mood. To tell you the truth, she’s rarely very pleasant, but some mornings are worse than others. I never really understood what she had against me – maybe it was the fact that I was friends with Vanessa who, after all, was her boss, so maybe she thought I was awarded some kind of special treatment – but I always felt uncomfortable around her.

   She’d often treat me like an incompetent boob, throwing around reminders and orders that I might have needed to hear if I had been a three-year-old.

   – Don’t forget to use the cleanser on the table when you finish with Mr. Evans.

   I made sure I was looking the other way when I rolled my eyes.

   – I won’t.

   – And make sure you throw the linens in the dirty clothes bin between each client.

   I wanted to punch her in the teeth because I felt her instructions were more of a control freak’s need for power than actual constructive reminders or warnings.

   As I was finishing up my morning herb tea while waiting for Carl – she called him Mr. Evans –, I couldn’t help but stare at Samantha. This dark-haired, dark-skinned beauty could have given Sophia Vergara a run for her money in the looks department. She was smoking hot! I kept wondering: “Why does a hot number like her need to act like such a bitch?”

   When Carl finally arrived for his appointment, my room was ready, the soft music was playing, scented essential oils were warming in the diffuser and my warm hands were oiled with sweet almond oil. As usual, Carl moaned and groaned with a mix of pleasure and pain when I unknotted a few tight muscles in his lower back, shoulders and neck. He also apologized for developing a hard-on before turning on his back. As usual, I told him he didn’t need to apologize, reassuring him that it happened daily and that it was just a reassuring sign that he was human… and male. That was another thing I’d developed quickly in my burgeoning career because I knew men – whether they were straight, gay, bi or asexual – always needed to feel that it was okay to have a functioning penis. And quite honestly, all professionalism aside, I was always somewhat flattered when I knew my hands and my sensual touch had aroused someone.

   Of course, every time a client did turn around with a hard-on or sprouted a boner while I was massaging his thighs, I’d always wonder: “Hum… is he expecting a happy ending? Does he want me to massage his pole when I finish with his pipes? Is he hoping I’ll go down on him and relieve that tension like I just relieved the one in his neck?” Sometimes, I have to admit, I’d get a boner myself, just from fantasizing about the possibilities – even when the guy wasn’t that hot. As a matter of fact, most of the time, I’d get even more aroused by the guys that were kind of plain-looking and weren’t sexy in the least. Probably because they gave me the impression that they weren’t into sex at all – some sort of chaste, sexless clergymen I’d suddenly risen from a deep sleep.

   Quite honestly, I did find Carl pretty attractive and – dare I admit it – sometimes, at night, following his visits to the spa, I’d fantasize about what it would be like to have sex with him or what it would be like if one of our massage sessions suddenly turned into a scene right out of William Higgins’s Ambush Massage porn video series. Sometimes, I’d even give my boyfriend Kyle a massage and pretend he was Carl, closing my eyes and fantasizing that the hard cock in my mouth was Carl’s, that the iron pole slipping into my ass was Carl’s, that the anus I was fingering was Carl’s.

   But I’m a professional. Never would I ever act on such fantasies, would I?

   When I finished with Carl, I thought of Samantha out there in the reception area and I cleaned off the massage table with extra precaution before Mr. Davenport’s appointment. Since I hate the smell of the cleanser, I wet a hand towel with very warm water and rinsed off the surface. I made sure that strong smell wouldn’t spoil the mood for this new client. I obviously didn’t know Mr. Davenport’s taste, but I decided to replace the scent of jasmine Carl liked so much with a more spicy musk that a few of my male clients had requested since I’d started.

   Mr. Davenport – “Please call me Marc” – was a gorgeous hunk of a man, over six feet tall, with muscular arms and legs, broad shoulders, a build like Olympic swimmer Michael Phelps and the hips and the butt of decathlete Kevin Mayer. Thank goodness he didn’t show up in his airline pilot uniform or all professionalism would have been out the door. I would probably have ripped his clothes off and would have touched him everywhere without even thinking twice about it. Thankfully, I did manage to keep it under control, but I have to admit, I was happy I was wearing clothes and was working in a dim-lit room or else I’m pretty sure he would have noticed the bulge in my pants.

   When he left though – leaving me a hefty tip and thanking me for relieving him of his sciatica pain –, I do have to admit that I had built up a considerable amount of fantasy material for later and certainly hoped he would become a regular.

   – Don’t forget to come back for one o’clock, growled Samantha without even looking up from the reception desk when I walked out of the massage room after cleaning up.

   Again, my eyes rolled in my head and I had to make an effort not to make an annoyed sigh.

   – This lady is really exacting.

   Exacting? Wasn’t that a little strong of a word? Who says that?

   – ... and she can make or break your career.

   Oh come on! Really? This sounded totally ridiculous to me. Unless this lady was a multimillionaire heiress or Oprah Winfrey (or both!), there was no way she could be that powerful.

   – You’ll want to make sure she is satisfied and happy.

   I felt like telling Samantha to go take a flying leap, that I had had enough of her fucking mind games, but I managed to keep it to myself.

   Instead, I said:

   – I always make sure my clients are satisfied and happy, Ms. Burrows.

   Sure there was irony and contempt in my voice, but she certainly couldn’t fire me for that. Bitch!

   I went home for lunch and tried not to beat off, although I kept thinking of Carl and Marc, my two morning clients who had lain naked on my table and had let me kneed and prod their luscious bodies. It really is a good thing that Kyle was at work or there is no way in hell I would have been able to resist the temptation of jumping his bones with fantasies of Marc and Carl in my head.

   I was so hot and bothered that I decided to take a quick, cold shower before heading back to the spa. The water made my balls and cock feel like they were shriveling up, but that was definitely a good thing considering that I was going back to work and needed to bring my testosterone level down a few notches.

   When I got back to the spa, I noticed Samantha wasn’t back from her lunch hour – which wasn’t a surprise since she loved to remind us that she was “upper management” and could stay out as long as she wanted while us “little people” kept the place running, but it was certainly a relief since the less I see her sour puss, the better off I am.

   – Your one o’clock is already waiting in the massage room, said Lainie, who usually works at the gym’s reception area but sometimes has her lunch at the spa’s reception to help out.

   I looked at my watch and felt relieved I had set up the room before leaving for lunch. She was early.

   – Somebody you know? I asked.

   The phone rang and Lainie didn’t answer me, shrugging and hurrying me into the room with her hand.

   When I entered the room, the client was lying on her stomach, wrapped in a white sheet, her long, dark hair cascading on the side of the table. Soft, meditation music was playing and a lavender sent had invaded the room. “Wow, way to make yourself comfortable, lady,” I thought to myself, a little annoyed.

   – Take your clothes off, Will, she ordered.

   I chuckled, incredulously.

   – What?

   – Take your clothes off, she repeated, insisting on each word. Hadn’t I told you this lady was exacting?

   Holy fuck! Samantha wanted a massage from me? I thought she hated me. I thought she’d rather have human refuse dumped on her rather than feel my hands on her body.

   – Er… is this a joke? I asked.

   – No joke. I was told you were one of the best we have and… I want the full experience.

   I was flattered but still didn’t believe this wasn’t some sort of trick to humiliate me somehow.

   – The full experience doesn’t include me getting naked.

   I heard what seemed like a mix between a chuckle and an annoyed sigh come from the table.

   – There’s an extra hundred dollars in it for you if you are up to the challenge.

   The challenge? What was she calling a challenge? What would she require of me once I took my clothes off? Didn’t she already know I wasn’t into women? Didn’t she know I was gay? Come to think of it, maybe she didn’t. I certainly hadn’t told her, that’s for sure. Then again, maybe she did know and that’s why she wanted me to get naked. But what would that entail – no pun intended. Was this a test to see if I would get aroused while I massaged her naked body? Did she want to check my level of professionalism either by seeing if I would refuse this unorthodox request and be allowed to keep my job or if I would accept and give her the ammunition she was looking for to fire me? My head was spinning.

   – I’m not a whore, I said.

   She laughed out loud. I realized by using the word whore, I might be giving away some clues about my sexual preference… but at the same time, I wanted to think that that wasn’t the case.

   – I’m not asking you to be a whore, Will. I’m asking you to help me fulfill a fantasy of mine… and I’m prepared to pay you extra for it.

   It definitely sounded like she wanted me to act as a prostitute, but I didn’t want to argue with her and, somehow, I found myself intriguingly curious – as if the power that she’d always wanted to hold over me now had the possibility of shifting. If this bitchy control freak of a boss of mine was ready to hand herself over to me and let me take control of the situation in the massage room, maybe I could experience something interesting myself. To my surprise, I heard myself mutter:

   – What do you have in mind?

   – Take your clothes off, she repeated.

   I decided I would make this just as strange and outlandish as she was making it by having one of her underlings massage her body. But I wasn’t about to give her any kind of extra power over me.

   I walked over to the table and started taking my t-shirt off. When I realized she wasn’t even watching me because her head was turned the other way, I started running my hand through her hair.

   – What are you doing? she asked.

   – If you want me to take my clothes off, you’ll have to watch me.

   – Why?

   – Because I want you to, I replied forcefully.

   She guffawed.

   – This isn’t about what you want, she said. This is about what the client wants. And I’m the client!

   – Okay, fine, I said simply before turning around and opening the door.

   – Where the hell do you think you’re going? she barked, her head popping off the table and turning toward me.

   – I’m leaving.

   – What?

   – You have your requirements, I have mine.

   In the light from the hallway, I could see that her eyes were wide open. She was weighing her options. I could read it in her eyes.

   – Close the door, she ordered, hoping to sound authoritative but totally caving in to my demand.

   I smiled and did what she asked. Making sure she didn’t take her eyes off me, I reached down to my feet to pull the laces loose on my shoes before kicking them off. Showing off my balance and poise – she didn’t know that I’d been a professional dancer and could put my foot behind my head without falling on my face if I wanted to –, I lifted my left leg and reached out to pull my sock off. Then, I did the same with my right foot, making sure my eyes never left hers. Oddly enough, this striptease of mine was actually awakening some sort of arousal within me and I was feeling my cock stir in my pants.

   “Won’t that be interesting”, I thought to myself. “When I release my dick, it’ll be semi hard. Nice. Hehe!”

   I moved in a little closer to the table to take off the designer track pants I was wearing. In a little Magic Mike moment, I decided to turn around to put my butt in her face before I pulled the pants down. When I bent over – almost like I was taking a bow –, my firm ass, covered only in my skin-hugging briefs, was only a few inches from her face. I really felt like an exotic dancer for a moment. This made me smile. After that, I don’t know what came over me. I turned around to face her and gyrated my hips twice around holding on to my slowly swelling cock through the fabric of my Diesel underwear.

   I think I noticed that she swallowed hard.

   She was either feeling aroused herself… or very uncomfortable. Either way, I was in control… and liking it.

   I decided I would stand facing her to peel off my last piece of clothing. Since my cock was swelling, I had to pull the band out a bit so it would go easily over my dick, which snapped out when I released it. It wasn’t fully erect, but considering it had been confined in a restricting garment and had been pressed against my pubis, I felt it looked pretty good. As a matter of fact, I think she gasped. I’m not sure. But hey, thinking that gave me an extra boost of confidence.

   – Are you ready for your massage, now?

   – Yes, she whispered, her voice oddly unsure.

   Just for the fun of it, as I walked over to the table to grease up my hands with almond oil, I nonchalantly made my cock twitch a bit. I don’t even know if she noticed, but something tells me she was staring at my package. That thought made my cock swell even more.

   When I got back to the table, she followed me with her eyes and twisted her body, laying on her back. She looked in my eyes and, with a fragility and vulnerability she had never shown me before, she opened the sheet and revealed her gorgeous body to me. Since she was laying on her back, her young, firm, full breasts seemed smaller than when she was sitting, of course, and they were falling a bit toward her sides, but her erect nipples and luscious areolas were making my mouth water. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I thought to myself as my cock kept on growing. I looked down at her taut, firm abs and was intrigued by her unusually small navel. I couldn’t wait to feel it when I would be massaging her. My eyes continued their way down her body to her slit which I couldn’t see much of with her legs closed. This vision was actually even more arousing than if she had had her legs open. The small tuft of black, curly pussy hair was making like an arrow to the inviting opening and her delicious, smooth thighs were making me guess what would be in store when they invited me in. What was I talking about? Why would they invite me in? This wasn’t a fuck session, it was a massage session, wasn’t it?

   I rubbed my hands together to warm the oil and walked over to the head of the table. My cock was now pointing to the ceiling and, as I prepared to start massaging her shoulders, I wanted to make sure my dick wouldn’t get tangled in her hair. I pushed my butt back a little to make sure my manhood wouldn’t interfere with the job at hand. When my hands started rubbing her shoulders, her brown tits started heaving, her breathing becoming deeper like she was meditating. The rocking of her luscious mounds of flesh before my very eyes made me want to stroke my cock to ejaculation. I found myself wanting to cream her tits with my cum!

   Again, I started talking to myself. “What the hell is wrong with you? Aren’t you gay, man?” I didn’t really want to hear myself. I just wanted to make the most of this erotic experience. As I finished massaging her shoulders in a circular motion, I came over to the right side of the table to massage her right arm. I couldn’t believe how muscular she was. And as I kneaded her firm muscles, I couldn’t take my eyes off her beautiful breasts, the back of my hand occasionally rubbing against her right tit and making her moan. I had a particularly nice time massaging her delicate hand and each of her fingers, imagining what it would feel like to ease her hand slowly toward my crotch so it could cup my balls. This thought sent a rush of adrenaline through my whole body and a shiver of lust down my spine.

   When I looked down at my erect cock, I noticed I was oozing pre-cum. I couldn’t really do anything about it since my hands needed to do their job. I walked over to the other side of the table and massaged her left arm as I’d taken care of her right. After that, I decided to take care of the base of her neck and slowly worked my way around her breasts. Usually, with any female client, I steer completely clear of the globes of flesh, but since I had learned how to massage breasts, I decided Samantha would get the full workout.

   As a started massaging her tits and pushing them together, I got an even better idea of how beautiful and sexy they were. I started feeling more and more fascinated with them and couldn’t take my hands away. When I reached the contours of her areolas, Samantha was moaning sensually and I saw her right hand discretely move toward her bush. She kept her legs closed but let her index finger slip into the top of her pussy lips to rub her clit. The fact that I couldn’t see what was going on under her finger was making me even more excited.

   I started massaging her ribs and eased my way down to her abs, exploring that tiny little bellybutton that had intrigued me earlier. Then, I spread her legs a little bit to be able to knead her thighs with my powerful hands. A delicious aroma of wet pussy lips rose to my nose as if we had taken the lid off a warming pot on a stove. She continued fingering her clitoris in circular motions, moaning and groaning with pleasure. I desperately tried to concentrate on relieving the tension in her leg muscles as tension was building in my cock and balls. When I got to her right foot, she said:

   – Suck on my toes, please. Suck on each of my toes. One at a time. Slowly. Mmmm… yeah. That’s it. Nibble on it. Mmmm… yes. Oh! That feels so good.

   As I applied acupuncture pressure under her foot with my thumb, I licked, sucked and nibbled at her toes. My left hand slid up her thigh and, as she continued rubbing her clit with her index, I slipped mine inside her dripping wet pussy, making it dance inside her love canal as her whole body started slithering all over the table.

   – Mmmmm… yes. Nibble on my toes. Lick my foot. Taste me, Will. Mmmm… fuck me with your finger.

   To my surprise, when she said that, I realized I was hoping to fuck her with my cock, too. Since she was having such a good time with my mouth action on her left foot, I pulled my finger out of her pussy and pulled her down on the table toward me, lifting both her legs at the knees so her feet could be close to my mouth. I started massaging her pussy juice into her right foot with my left hand and kept applying pressure to her left foot with my right hand.

   – Oh yes, work your magic hands on my feet, Will. That feels so good!

   She was working her clit again as she was directing my massaging, licking, sucking and nibbling of her toes, feet and heels.

   My fully erect cock was just centimeters from her open pussy and inching closer and closer. My hard snake wanted to feel the heat of that hot female lair. I rotated my hips a bit, rubbing my glistening cock head in the shining, quivering lips of her pussy. And suddenly, her vacuum sucked my iron pole inside it.

   – Ooooooo! Yes!

   I pumped her pussy with my pulsating prick as my plum-size balls banged against the side of the table. Never did I ever let go of her feet, caressing them with my oily hands, licking them with my agile tongue, nibbling them with my eager teeth, sucking them with my determined mouth and lips.

   After a while, Samantha let go of her clit and grabbed the side of the table, under her ass. I could feel my thighs slamming against her fingers as she used her hands to meet my thrusts and make sure I got as deep inside her as I could. And when she came, I couldn’t help but think that Lainie was getting an earful in the reception area, hoping that no other clients had arrived.

   And then I realized I didn’t give a shit who heard whatever. I was giving Samantha the ride she’d wanted and I was getting a really good fuck out of it in the process.

   – Yeah! Take it! Pull me inside you. Take my fucking cock!

   When I felt myself ready to erupt, I applied more pressure on her feet and toes with my mouth and hands, pulled my cock out of her pussy and, without even touching myself, sprayed strings and streams of hot cum on her abs and on her luscious tits before plunging down into her pussy with my full mouth, tasting her pungent juice and my own cum and pre-cum until she came again.

   – Mmmm… that was amazing. You really are worth every penny.

With that line, she’d managed to reclaim power in our relationship, but I wasn’t down.

   – No way, lady. You’re not the only one who’s exacting. That cock juice isn’t going to go to waste. I’m going to massage it into you with my magic hands.

   Her head dropped back down on the table and she was putty in my hands. Never again did she make me feel like I was inferior to her. Never again did I give her a repeat of this incredible experience. Sure, I would probably have loved it as much as her, but I was certainly not going to give her the satisfaction.


(c) All rights reserved, 2016 - Tristan LeMay and iccustom-capital.ru.


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