A gay story: Hands On Love The following is a complete work of fiction.
Disclaimer:
The following story may contain erotic situations between consenting adults. If it is illegal for you to read this please leave now.
Any resemblance between the characters and any real life person is completely coincidental. Please do not copy or distribute the story without the author’s permission.
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*****
I supported Tim through his last heavy squat and gave him a pat on the thigh to indicate we were done. He groaned and pressed himself against me briefly, grinding his ass against my hips. I laughed and pushed him toward the locker room. “I’m spoken for, horn dog.”
He grunted at me and grabbed his towel. “I could do you so much better, Trey, you know that.”
I smiled. “Maybe, Tim, but I’ve got a man and I don’t date clients. You know the rules.” I grabbed my water and slugged down a gulp. Tim was one hot man, there was no two ways about it, but I simply wasn’t interested. Brian and I had our issues, every couple does, but we’d been together two years and I saw no reason to jump ship. I certainly wasn’t going to jump ship for the gym’s “had everyone but Trey” stud.
“You should learn to live a little, Trey. You don’t do the bars; you eat right, live right, and follow the rules. Man, you’re going to be old some day and realize you missed out on life.” He gave me a disgusted look. “Being pure doesn’t make you happy. Good guys finish last.” Yeah, Tim was a bad boy and proud of it. I think he stuck with me because he knew I was incorruptible but he liked the challenge.
I was about to give him an answer when my cell went off. I shot him a “shoo” look and grabbed my phone. “Hands-On, massage and training; this is Trey, how may I help you?”
The low voice on the other end chuckled. “I bet you get a lot of interesting responses to that.”
I smiled. The guy had a sense of humor, which I liked in my clients. I waited for the sexual banter to begin. “I’ve had my share of heavy breathers.”
He laughed again and I could almost hear his smile. “This is Jeff, Jeffrey Dane? I emailed you a few weeks back about a possible massage?”
“Oh, yeah; hi Jeff, you got the transfer?” Jeff was a medical management coordinator who had contacted me about a month ago about finding a new therapist and possible trainer. His company was looking to move him to take over the regional accounts.
“Yeah, sorry I didn’t update you, but this was kind of sudden. They told me this morning that I had to be down here tonight.” I could hear the stress in his voice. “I literally swung by my apartment, had an hour to grab clothes, my laptop and a few personal items and was on the plane down.”
“That sucks.” I wiped my brow with my towel. I was certain I would be seeing Jeff in the next day or so, if our schedules matched. I liked clients like him, professionals in fields related to medical offices, because they were the best at making connections and referring new clients.
“Tell me about it. I’ll be flying back on Friday to drive down. The company has already arranged for a moving service. I have three days to find a place to live.”
“Damn, your predecessor must have really fucked up.”
He responded with a snort. “Can’t talk about it, but I’ll just say that if they didn’t make a change, we’d lose most of our accounts here in Central Florida.” His tone was both disgusted and exhausted. “You wouldn’t have any time tonight would you?”
I grimaced. It was already six. I had another training client at six-thirty and an early morning training session. “Where are you staying?”
“Westin, Grand Bohemian.”
That would take about twenty minutes to get to from the gym. “If I can take a shower at your room I could see you at a little after eight. I’ve got training till seven-thirty.”
“Sure, the shower is free. I just need these knots worked out before tomorrow’s meetings.” He did sound like he needed some relief.
“No problem, Jeff. What’s your room number?”
“669.”
“Eight o’clock.”
“You want me to print out your intake form?”
I smiled. My website had everything a client needed to speed up the initial session. I always liked it when one of them actually paid attention to it. “That’d be great.”
“See you at eight.”
I hung up and went to the front desk for a protein bar. I called Brian. “Hey, I’ve got a client at eight tonight.”
I could imagine his face contorting into a frown. “Damn it, Trey. Don’t you ever go off duty?”
“Yes, Brian, at nine pm. I don’t take appointments after that.” He knew my hours. He worked as an engineer, and for Brian the world should function on a nine-to-five timetable. The fact that most of my clients lived in the nine-to-five world, and needed my services after those hours, never seemed to sink in.
“Fine, whatever. I’m tired of this, Trey.” He hung up.
I hated it when he got that way. I had to just suck it up and wait till his libido was in danger of exploding before he’d choose to touch me again. That usually only lasted a few days, but I really didn’t enjoy the passive-aggressive shit. The fact that I was regularly turning down advances from clients didn’t help the fact that my boyfriend used sex as a weapon. Ok, so the relationship had more than its fair share of problems, but at least I had a boyfriend; I wasn’t alone.
I sighed as I bit into the U-Turn bar. “Another chemical dinner; I love my life.” What I really wanted was a Big Mac.
*****
I got to Room 669 at a couple minutes after eight. I had a change of clothes in my bag and the rest of my stuff was on the table-cart. I wasn’t prepared for the man who opened the door. He was only wearing a towel, which wasn’t all that unusual; what was unusual was that he was absolutely gorgeous. I don’t mean the GQ gorgeous; those guys are too artificial. Jeff was the tall, blonde, muscled but not a gym slave; hairy and friendly smile kind of handsome. He was my idea of the perfect man. I was gritting my teeth and cursing at the fact he was a client. I hoped that God couldn’t be so cruel as to make him gay and counted my blessings that he was a straight man and off limits.
He smiled. “Prompt and honest, that’s a nice change.”
I raised an eyebrow as he stepped back and let me wheel my table in. “Honest?”
He laughed. “You wouldn’t believe how many therapists I’ve hired off the web turned out to be anything but what they claimed.”
That made me a little nervous; only gay or bi-curious men cared whether a male therapist looked like his pictures. Closing the door, he just smiled and went to the desk. “Here’s the intake form.”
I checked it out. He’d taken the time to initial all the signature points, put down some stress medications, listed high blood pressure as a condition, and made a point of fully signing the understanding, consent, and privacy policy areas. Clients who went to that much trouble with my forms, which are extensive, usually want legitimate massage. I sighed inwardly with relief.
He smirked at me as I folded his forms and put them in the pocket of my carrying bag. “You weren’t kidding; you need that shower.”
I laughed. I knew I was pretty ripe. Grabbing my clothes bag, I smiled. “I’ll get the shower and then set up the table.”
“I’ve had enough of these that I could probably set the table up while you’re showering.”
I wasn’t fond of anyone touching my table, but it was unlikely he would hurt anything. “Sure, if you want. You don’t get a discount though.” I grinned at him before I disappeared into the bathroom.
I had just gotten out of my clothes when there was a knock. “Hey, Trey?”
I immediately grabbed a towel, fearing he’d open the door; he didn’t. “Yeah?”
“What height do you set the table at?”
I relaxed. He did seem to know something about these things. “Three from the top.”
“Ok. I’ll be on the table when you come out. Do you want me face up or down?”
“Down, I can adjust the face cradle when I get out there.”
“Will do.” That was all there was to it. I chastised myself for my paranoia and showered quickly. I’m not at all shy about my body; hell, it’s one of my calling cards and best advertising for my training business. I may sound obsessive, but I just don’t think it’s appropriate for a client to see me nude. They aren’t going to get any, so why tease them?
I got back into the room; all clean and dressed and stopped to admire the sight. Jeff was about six-foot-two; my guess was about two hundred and twenty pounds with only about fourteen percent body fat. Ok, my body fat hovered about nine to ten, but fourteen on a desk-jockey in his late thirties was nothing to complain about. I snapped out of my admiration and went to the bed. He’d set out the lotion, oil and cream from my bag and had figured out how to run my MP3 player. Hell, Brian had never managed to use the thing correctly and he was an engineer. That had me feeling a warm spot in my gut, which I pushed aside. “Lotion, oil or cream?”
“Cream, it doesn’t seem to stay as greasy and helps fingers not catch in my hair.” He did have hairy legs, arms and chest, but his back was almost hair free. Again, I countered my impulse to think about how close to my ideal he was. I snapped on the waist belt for the cream and adjusted the face cradle for him. He’d already put a bolster under his ankles. I wished my other clients were as well trained.
“If I go too hard or do something you don’t like, just say so and I’ll adjust.” He grunted an affirmative through the faceplate and I started. He was a great client to massage. Not only was his body responsive to my touch but he was also a moderate-moaner. My two least favorite types of clients are the totally silent, stiff guys who never indicate if you’re doing things good, bad or if they even cared, and the guys who don’t fucking shut up. Jeff was the happy medium. He moaned when I hit a tight spot or did something he liked, but otherwise just stayed quiet and enjoyed the massage. I know that sounds a bit sexual, but massage is an intimate business and feedback is important. Not to mention, I like my sex partners to talk dirty to me; that was something I discouraged with my clients.
I worked his ass a bit longer than was necessary, but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, I picked up the subtle signals that if I were to drift a little further than was professional, he wouldn’t object. Jeff wasn’t obnoxious; some guys almost push their ass up against your hands in hopes you’ll catch the hint. He didn’t make any moves to encourage me to “cheat”, but I knew I could have done just about anything I wanted; the signals were there. That was so tempting; two years with Brian had left me aching for a chance to Top. I’m a versatile guy, and though I do prefer bottoming, I don’t like a constant diet of it. Brian was a consummate top. I think he’d have lost his male identity if he ever let me near his ass. Some times I think gay Tops are more sexually insecure than straight men about things like that. I stayed professional, though my thoughts were anything but. I kept pushing aside images of sliding my long, hard cock between those cheeks and giving him a prostate massage he’d never forget. I was pressing down my pant leg and dripping a little despite my attempts to think of Dr. Ruth naked. By the time I had him turn over; I had a very damp stain in my jeans. Seeing him in full glory didn’t help matters.
Many guys, straight or gay, get hard during massage. It generally has nothing to do with sexual desire; it’s just a relaxation and blood flow response. Guys aren’t touched enough in “sensual” ways that are non-sexual, so our bodies respond the only way we know how, we sport wood. Clients who work with me for a while eventually lose that immediate reaction to the intimacy of touch; I think it balances them out so they can be more expressive without it being sexual.
Jeff chuckled as he slid down to put his head on the main part of the table. “Sorry about the tense muscle; it usually happens during a massage.”
I laughed. “No problem, most guys have that happen. You can relax that one after I leave.” What I really wanted to do, when I started working the ball of his foot, was slide my hands up and take possession of his nine-inch love muscle. It looked good enough to make my hole itch a little. Damn I was having a problem. I seldom had difficulty keeping my thoughts from down right raunchiness during a session. Sure, I’ve gone home a lot of times and had Brian fuck me senseless because I was horny as hell, but this was a lot more intense.
I made it past his crotch without doing any of the erotic things that had been flooding my brain and got to his neck and shoulders. I concentrated on them, releasing the knots and working out the tension. Pulling his arms over his head, I had him hold onto me behind my waist. Ok, I know that sounds a bit kinky, but it’s a practical way to work the upper arms and the connections where the pectorals attach. It also allows me to have them hold on so I can stretch them a bit. Most clients love that. Jeff’s fingers lingered a bit on my lower back after I’d stretched him, tracing my muscles lightly as they moved up to stroke my lats. God that felt good. His eyes were watching me as I had the impulse to lean in and kiss him. I shuddered and took a breath before gently pulling his hands away and putting them at his sides. My pants were about to bust at the seams.
He closed his eyes and moaned when I worked his chest. He apparently had worked out earlier that evening for his pecs were flushed and tight. Like with his ass, I lingered a bit longer than necessary on his chest. Did I mention I’m a chest and ass man? Give me a great chest, a tight ass and some respectable arms and I’m pretty happy. Put those on a package like Jeff and I was on the road for disaster. I finished the massage by inducing a still point at the base of his skull. It was a quiet time and he slipped away completely; his body trembled a couple times as the last of his tension wicked away.
All in all, it was one of the better massages I’d ever done. We’d talked in email several times and I knew that intellectually we were very compatible as client and therapist. We just clicked on so many levels that I hardly had to think to know what he needed done. My problem was, something about him clicked with me too deeply; it was more than physical attraction and that scared the shit out of me. I stepped out of the main room to let him get off the table and put on some cloths or a towel. I washed my hands again, hoping to make the trembling go away. I needed to get out of there. When I came back in, he had a robe on and was pulling out his wallet. “Ninety-five, right?”
I nodded and stripped the table. “Yep; I hope you feel better.”
He groaned. “That was one of the best massages I’ve ever had.”
I smiled. “I get that a lot.”
He looked at me seriously. “You deserve it. You’ve got the touch and the intuition. I could use some of your cards; you wouldn’t believe how many people ask me for referrals to doctors and therapists. You take insurance?”
I nodded and handed him the stash from my day timer. “Yeah; I hate the new HIPPA Laws but insurance really makes my month.” His fingers lingered against mine as he took the cards. There was a tingle that ran from his touch all the way down my spine and to my groin. I pulled back quickly, a little too quickly, because he noticed.
“You ok?”
I nodded. “Yeah, just a long day and an early morning tomorrow.”
His eyes studied mine and then dipped to notice the long, hard line running down the inside of my pant leg. He couldn’t have missed the dark, wet stain in my jeans. “You sure?”
“Yeah.” I was breathing a bit harder as I finished packing up my stuff and took the money.
He was standing close when I turned to say goodnight. Not in my face, but definitely just within the comfort zone. “Trey, could I call you some time?”
That was not a request for another session. He wasn’t pushing, but I saw sincere interest in his eyes. I’d had dozens of men make plays for me in their rooms. Jeff wasn’t. He wasn’t asking me to stay; he was asking me if there was a chance for more than a professional relationship. My libido screamed “yes,” but my mind knew better. “Jeff, I admit, I find you attractive, and under other circumstances I’d go for you in a heartbeat.”
“But…” He had a knowing smile on his face. At least he didn’t look hurt or disappointed.
“But it’s illegal. Part of the code of ethics for therapists is that we cannot have personal relationships with clients. Blah, blah, etc. and so forth.” I swallowed. God I wanted to kiss him. “If I did, how would you be able to trust I wasn’t fucking any of my other clients?”
He sighed and stepped back. “I take it that calling for more appointments, or to get some training sessions, wouldn’t be a good idea.”
My heart sank. What I wanted, for the first time with any client, was for him to push the issue. I think if he had taken me in his arms and kissed me I’d have ended up on my back with him riding me to oblivion. I’d never had it that bad for anyone, client or not. I didn’t even fuck on first dates; I would have with him. I nodded. “I don’t think it would be good for either of us.”
He shrugged and handed me my money. “Could you email me some suggestions for other therapists and trainers to look into?”
I smiled. “I’d be happy to.” That was a lie. I wanted to keep him to myself. I wanted him in my bed and against my body, but that wasn’t going to happen.
We talked about nonsense for a few more minutes, neither one of us wanted me to leave. I did leave, feeling like an asshole. I also wondered why I hadn’t mentioned the fact I had a boyfriend as one of the reasons I couldn’t see him socially. I didn’t start kicking myself till I got home.
Brian’s stuff was in bags and boxes in the living room. I stared in disbelief as he came out with his suitcase. “What are you doing?”
He looked at me like I was the lowest thing in the world. “I’m tired of playing second best to your clients, Trey. They get more of you than I do and I’m sick of it.”
We’d had that argument before. Brian never could accept that I wasn’t fucking my clients. He’d seen me rebuff the advances of training clients and had accused me of only doing so because “he was there.” I thought we’d gotten past that, but trust was never one of Brian’s strong points. I had just passed up the perfect guy to return home to my asshole boyfriend trying to brain fuck me again. “So, where are you going?”
“Tim’s.”
I blinked. “Tim Mathews?”
He nodded. “At least with Tim as a roommate I won’t be home at night jacking off.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Tim had been after me for months. Then I started thinking about it; he never really pushed hard for me to give in, most of his actions were to tease me and then tell me that I was too good for Brian, or that someone else was better for me, usually him. It suddenly dawned on me what he’d been trying to say. I snarled at Brian as he grabbed some of his bags. “Finally found a guy who could push your pussy ass down and teach you what it is to be gay?” Tim was a major Top. There was no way he was letting Brian anywhere near his ass. For Tim, you’d have to be bigger, badder and stronger to top him. It was a dominance thing. I doubted I’d have a chance at his ass, and I was a hell of a lot closer to being able to take down Tim than Brian ever would be.
Brian scowled at me but didn’t say anything. That told me what I needed to know. I reclaimed his key before he walked out with his last bags; I told him he could get anything else that weekend. He closed the door and I sat down feeling empty. Two years in a relationship, even if it wasn’t all that great, was a hard thing to have ended so abruptly. I went to bed having dreams that alternated between abusing Brian and finding lustful satisfaction in Jeff’s arms. God hated me.
*****
I didn’t hear from Jeff directly, but I did hear of him. He ended up using a friend of mine, Gale, for his therapist and a fellow trainer, Justin, for his personal trainer. I regretted the loss of income but Jeff was as good as his word. I got my share of referrals from him. That really surprised me, considering I’d rejected him. But he’d impressed me with his professionalism from the first email so I was glad to know at least some of my instincts were good, even if Brian had proven to be another in a long line of flops. At thirty-three, I was tired of having short term, unfulfilling relationships. I wasn’t into easy sex, never was. I wanted a guy I could trust and who saw me as something other than a hot piece of meat.
Tim confirmed that he’d been fucking Brian for a while before Brian got fed up with me and left. He apologized and wanted to keep working with me because I was able to get results out of him that others couldn’t. I kept Tim, but Tim didn’t keep Brian. Four months after Brian left me, Tim had him out the door. Other than his fucking my ex, Tim was a damn good client and got me several new regulars. I suspect he wanted to square us up for taking my boyfriend. I should have thanked him; other than missing the sex, I realized I didn’t miss Brian. Several of Jeff’s referrals were insurance clients; after six months my personal life was non-existent but my professional life was booming. About eight months after I’d met Jeff, I was burning out.
Gale had been on my case to take a break for months, but I didn’t listen. She’d also been trying to enamor me with the idea of having my own place; I didn’t listen to that either. Finally she gave up and started her own place. Gale insisted I come to her open house. After opening her own spa, she was still trying to convince me to come in with her. I liked working “out call only,” though I had to admit that lugging around the table was becoming a drag. Hell, my whole life was becoming a drag. I hadn’t even dated since Brian left; I had immersed myself in my work and work was my life. I thought that the mix of work and pleasure at the open house would be a nice change. Who knew, I might get a few of her clients interested in some personal training.
I really needed a break. If I were being honest, I really needed a good fuck. It sucked living like a monk when you worked all day with some really hot, available guys. My right hand and I were constant companions.
The open house went well. I liked Gale’s staff and the place had really turned out well; it helped that she was married to a contractor. As usual, she was able to rope me into helping; that woman could do everything but get me in bed, not that she ever tried. Gale was the sister I never had and I knew, eventually, she’d pull my strings and I’d be in the spa with her. She was practically introducing me as her partner instead of a friend, and was pushing hard for a second therapist. She only wanted one as good as her to be a part of the spa. Of therapists who didn’t already have their own establishments, that left very few options. Gale was damn good.
I turned to offer a plate of crackers and cheese to the latest person to come in and came face to face with Jeff. For some reason, he didn’t look as surprised to see me, as I was to see him. Of course, considering I nearly dropped the tray, it would be hard to look as surprised as I did. “Hi,” I stammered. “Glad you could make it.” He was about to say something when I lifted the tray up. “Cracker?”
He took one and I escaped while he had his mouth occupied. Gale found me in the kitchen; the spa was converted from a house on the main drag that had been rezoned residential-professional. She cocked her head and studied me. “What’s wrong with you? You look like you’re going to be sick.”
I shrugged. “It got a little crowded in there for me.” The fact that my stomach was in knots and I was contemplating a visit to the porcelain-goddess was a strong factor as to why I was looking sick.
She wasn’t buying it. “Give me a break, Trey, we went to school together. You haven’t been this panicked since you thought Donald was interested in you.” Donald was one of our special modalities teachers. He’d taught shiatsu and was the second guy I’d ever fallen for. We didn’t get together till after I graduated and got my license. It had only lasted about half a year but we stayed friends and he had been an incredible lover.
“I didn’t think about the fact that Jeff was your client.”
She frowned. “Please don’t tell me you…”
I looked at her, appalled. “No, you know me better than that Gale.”
She nodded. “Ok, that wasn’t fair. So what’s really going on?”
I mumbled at my shoes. “I would have.”
She blinked. “That’s why you gave him to me?”
I nodded. “I realized if I worked with him I’d fuck up.” I shrugged, “Good thing I did, since Brian left right after I met Jeff.”
She grinned. “So what’s the problem?”
I blinked. “Huh?”
“Honey, the rules state that you can’t have a relationship with a former client for a minimum of six months after your last session.” She was grinning knowingly at me.
I glared at her. “You knew?”
She laughed. “He’s only asked about you every session. Things like: how’s Trey’s business; is he ok; has he got anyone in his life. You know the usual ‘I want this guy so bad it hurts’ sort of questions.”
I was stunned.
“Other than the fact that I love you, and want you in this with me, I hoped you’d bump into him tonight, and keep him from driving me nuts. I can’t take it much longer, and he’s one of my best clients.”
“It’s just not right, Gale. I know the rules say six months, but I can’t get involved with a client.”
Rolling her eyes, she let out an exasperated sigh. “How long does it take, Trey? My guess is it’s been seven months…”
“Eight.” If I thought about it, I could have probably given her the days, weeks and hours. Ok, he’d gotten to me bad.
“Then get out there and mingle. You’ve been a workaholic since Brian left. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. What do I have to do, buy you a rent-a-stud to get you laid?”
There was a knock on the doorframe and Jeff poked his head in. He looked a little uncomfortable. “I don’t want to interrupt, but where’s the bathroom?”
Gale looked from Jeff to me and smiled. “Trey can show you.” She left before I could get a word out.
I looked at Jeff helplessly and pressed off the counter. “This way.”
We skirted around the main room and went down the hall between two of the treatment rooms. I pointed to the door on the left. “There you go.” He hesitated and I looked up at him. God he was good looking. “Thanks for the referrals; several of them have become regulars.”
His face lit up with a killer grin. “I hear you haven’t let me down. Between you and Gale, my reputation for knowing the best therapists has done well for my networking.”
I shrugged. “After saying no and all…” I was stammering. I hadn’t meant to bring up what had happened. All I could think of was how desperately I wanted to suck face. “If you’re still interested, I’m….” I couldn’t believe I was being such a dork. “I wish you’d called.” I just couldn’t bring myself to ask him out. I could walk a runway in a bathing suit, stand as a nude figure model for artists and tell men twice my size to suck it up and give me more reps without fear, but when it came to taking chances with my heart, I was a total coward. That was probably why none of my previous relationships had lasted.
He stepped in and solved the problem. This time he didn’t keep the comfortable distance. We were nearly pressing against each other and he was leaning in close as I found myself backed against the wall. “I wanted to.” His voice was low and his face was so close.
“Fuck it.” I reached up and pulled him into the kiss I’d wanted the night we’d met. He met me full force. Our tongues wrestled, but it wasn’t a fight for dominance; they seemed to work around each other, like yoga partners, and drew moans from both of us.
Jeff pulled back, panting a little, and looked at me. “You want to get out of here?”
I nodded. “You still have my cell number?”
He smiled. “Yeah, I put it in my new phone. I just never got around to dialing it.”
I couldn’t believe what came out of my mouth next. “You’re place or mine?”
He grinned. “Who’s closer? I’m over off of Maitland Avenue.”
“You’re closer, I’m up above 436.”
He nodded and left for the front room. His need for the bathroom was forgotten. I followed him out a few minutes later; Gale’s eyes stayed on me my entire exit. The bitch was grinning like a cat. I’d thank her later, if it worked out.
*****
Jeff’s place was a two level condo off the lake. I pulled into his drive as he was opening the front door. My palms were sweating and I was hard as a rock. I never did shit like this. He waited at the door and let me in. The place was nice, masculine and tasteful. Like my own, there wasn’t anything about it that said “gay man.” Not that I cared, I was stronger and tougher than most straight men I knew, but I really wasn’t into limp-wristed decor. Hell, the only “pride” item I had was a rainbow bathing suit Gale bought me once as a joke. I wore it on more than one occasion just for the shock value. It was a nice suit and I looked damn good in it.
Jeff smiled at me as he walked into the kitchen. “Want a drink?”
I wondered how smart it would be to have one. I was already being an idiot so I shrugged. “What are you having?”
“I like scotch and soda.”
I grimaced. “Rum and coke?”
He laughed. “I’ve got diet coke.”
“That’ll do.”
He made our drinks and handed me mine. My hands were actually shaking. “Don’t do this much, huh?”
I took a drink of my coke and hoped not to squeak. “Never.” I felt like a schoolboy in the principal’s office.
He was five years older than me and had experienced a lot more in life than I had; it showed. “I’m not going to lie to you, Trey; I’ve been around.” He took a sip of his scotch. “Hell, I’ve had more than a few massage therapists turn out to be nothing more than escorts with a certification.” He frowned. “They were lousy therapists.”
I was about to object but he put up his hand. “I don’t think of you that way; or of massage therapists that way. Hell, I think one of the reasons I couldn’t stop thinking of you was your honesty and professionalism.” Grinning, he added, “The fact that you’re hot as hell probably contributed too.” I laughed; at least he was being honest. He looked at me sincerely. “You were right. If we’d just started dating I wouldn’t have been able to trust that you wouldn’t do that with the next guy.”
I took another drink. “I’ve never been with a client, or an ex-client. I really don’t know why I’m here.”
He set down his drink and graced me with that killer grin. “You know why you’re here, and I’m not a client any more… I’m fair game.”
I had to laugh nervously. “You planned this out, didn’t you?”
He nodded, his eyes never leaving mine. “I’ve never gone after a guy I hired for anything, Trey. Hell, I haven’t even been with anyone since I moved down.” He looked at his drink and thumbed at one of the beads of water sliding down the glass. “I’m not interested in the easy shit any more; I’m getting too old for that.”
That got my attention. “So what do you want?” I already knew, but I wanted to hear it.
He leaned in and I knew I wasn’t going to be leaving any time soon. Just his closeness sent shocks down my spine. “Everything.”
Did I mention that Jeff was perfect? Yeah, I probably did. I studied his eyes for a few moments before putting down my drink. “Ok.” It was that simple. I’d wanted him from the moment we met; even when I knew I couldn’t have him.
He kissed me again. I’d been right. If he’d kissed me in his hotel room, I wouldn’t have left, and it would have ruined everything. But he hadn’t, we didn’t, and this was a chance I couldn’t pass up. I pulled back and looked at him. “Have you ever actually done it with a massage therapist?”
He shook his head. “No. It would have been like paying for a hooker. I’m not into that.”
I grinned. “But you’ve thought about it?”
He laughed. “Fuck yeah, who doesn’t?”
“How would you like a free massage, Mr. Dane?” I wiggled my eyebrows. “The type you only dream about?”
He had the most devastating smile. If he’d said he just wanted to bend me over the counter and taken me there I’d have said yes. “I’d love it on two conditions.”
I smirked. “What would those be?”
“One, you are as naked as I am; and two, you don’t leave after it’s over.”
I could agree to that. “Where should I set up the table?”
“Why not upstairs in the bedroom? That way we won’t have far to go after the massage is over.”
“I’ll get the table.”
He grinned and gave me a slightly strained look. “I’ll meet you there; I really did need to go back at the spa.”
I laughed. “Then go; I’ll be up in a minute.”
*****
He came out of the bathroom wearing a robe as I finished setting up the table. He had a few pillar candles in the room, which I’d lit, and I had put some soft tribal drums on repeat play in my player. All in all, it was a pretty hot setting. I had pulled out the two condoms I kept in my day timer. I never had plans to use them, but I’d been a Boy Scout and old habits die-hard.
We kissed again and Jeff reached to pull out my shirt. I pulled back and grinned. “Get on the table. I’ve got to wash my hands and get into my work clothes.” He looked disappointed, so I added; “The anticipation will do you good.” I smiled. “I’ve got my own therapist-client fantasies; let me have a little fun too.”
With that he smiled and headed for the table. Before I got out of the room, he looked back at me. “Face down?”
I nodded. “Like last time.”
I got into the bathroom, stripped, washed my hands, washed the deodorant from my arms, and took a moment to be sure I was clean between my cheeks. I didn’t want any place on my body to be a turnoff. I was nervous as I came back into the room. I’d never played this game, not even with Brian, and it was really turning me on.
I used the cream; it was water based so there wasn’t any concern about the condoms. The massage started as usual, I made the normal comments about pressure and such, and then began in earnest. Something everyone should know about massage therapists is that we -do- know all the things to do to get someone really hot and bothered. We know them because they are most of the things we’re told -not- to do in school.
I did slow, long strokes down his back, letting my chest brush lightly against his skin. I don’t think he was sure of it the first time, but the second time I lingered a bit longer and he moaned. I was already hard and dripping; this was going to be one long, hot massage. His forearm rubbed against my cock as I moved to work his lats and he tentatively brushed his arm back and forth. I didn’t pull away and let out a soft moan of my own as I continued the massage. When I got to his ass, I didn’t worry about not dipping into the crack. I worked his ass till it was hot and pliable and he was moaning.
I then surprised him by getting up on the table, straddling his hips, and nestled down between his glutes. My cock slid back and forth in his cleft as I continued to work his back; this time from his low back up to his shoulders. I slid back a little and massaged his hole in slow, circular motions. Jeff was moaning continuously at that point. I leaned forward, pressing my entire body against his, and whispered into his ear. “I believe I received a prescription for a prostate massage from your doctor, Mr. Dane. Is that correct?”
He groaned and pressed himself up against me. “Oh yeah, I really need a good prostate massage. The doctor says it’s essential for a man heading towards forty.”
I grinned and pulled back. “I wouldn’t want to question the doctor’s orders.” I bent over and picked up one of the condoms. “I think it said something about eight inches of deep tissue therapy?”
He’d turned his head to the side and was pressing up against me. “Yeah, something like that would be just about right.”
I worked my fingers into his eager hole. I wanted in there so bad; it had been over three years since I’d had my cock up someone’s love tunnel. I forced myself to take my time. I slowly opened him, twisting and stroking him till he was trying to push off the table to get more of me in him. Finally, when I knew he’d have no problem taking me, I leaned forward and pressed my hands against his back for support. In one, slow, delicious plunge, I slid to the root.
Jeff cried out, loud and long, but it wasn’t from pain. I don’t think anyone had ever prepared him enough to be able to take it in one stroke; I had. Daniel had taught me a lot about what a skilled practitioner could do to a man; before Daniel, I’d been “a top”. He cured me of that nonsense and I was forever in his debt. I worked Jeff slowly, taking long deep strokes. About every fifth stroke or so I’d pull completely out only to slide back in. I knew, in my case, I loved the sensation of being breached almost more than having my prostate worked. There was something about the sensation of being opened to another, having him press past your inhibitions and resistance, that always worked me into a frenzy. I long dicked him for a good ten minutes before my need took over.
Jeff was alternating between moaning and telling me that he needed it deeper and harder. When I started rabbit fucking him for the last few minutes, his vocabulary diminished to “oh Jesus, oh yes, damn, fuck, oh god”. I was so glad he was thanking the divine for this because I was in heaven.
I shuddered into him, filling my condom to the bursting point, and held myself up on shaky arms. I was certain he’d come at least once; I suspect it was more than once. When I knew I could stand, I slid off the table, discarded my condom, and continued the massage. I worked his legs, causing him to moan softly as I finished my task. To be kind, I moved back up and hit his low back for a few strokes; that rewarded me with louder moans.
I licked his ear before telling him to turn over. The action caused him to shiver, and he did what he was told. He had come pretty impressively from what I could tell. I slid a towel over the come soaked area before he finished rolling over. I saw no reason for him to be “stuck on the wet spot.” His eyes were glazed as he looked at me for the first time. I apparently met or exceeded his expectations. His cock twitched and he reached out to touch my chest. I planned to slide down to his feet, but he gripped my bicep.
“Trey?” I looked at him, “Kiss me, please.”
I leaned down and kissed him. It was slow and wet and wonderful. He followed me up a little way when I pulled back and he sighed. I got to his feet and slowly worked my way back up his body, paying special attention to his inner thighs. He was hard by the time I made it up to his crotch. He looked at me in surprise when I skipped his drooling pole and slid up to the top of the table. I began to work his shoulders, neck and chest. This time I lingered at his nipples, brushing, twisting and pulling at them between working his pectorals.
He was panting by the time I lifted his arms to do his triceps, lats and pectoral attachments. I loved looking at men in that pose. If they had any lats at all, stretching them out that way always caused them to look both powerfully wide and vulnerable at the same time. I brought his hands to my hips, allowing him to squeeze my ass as I stretched him out. His hands kept massaging my butt as I leaned forward and began kissing my way down his chest, rubbing my own chest across his face.
He moaned again and licked my body as I slid over him, kissing and licking my way down to his cock. When my knees were on either side of his head, he licked my shaft. I almost shot. I felt him tilt back and he slid my cock into his mouth and down his throat. My eyes practically rolled back. He was that damn good. When he moaned, it vibrated across my entire shaft and I was twitching.
After several long, luscious tastes of his massive meat, I knew I had to have it. I stretched and snagged the other foil packet. I made quick work of getting him sheathed before I pulled from his hot mouth and turned around. I straddled him, lifting his spear so that it was nearly straight up.
Jeff stared at me. “I didn’t think you’d want that.” His voice was low and husky and I knew he wanted to just ram his way home, but he was holding back. I just grinned and closed my eyes as I sank down on his shaft. I wasn’t as prepared as he was but I’d managed to slide some lube up in me during the massage. It took about four tries to get him completely planted into my quaking ass. It felt so good to have someone there again.
His eyes rolled back and he groaned. “Christ, Trey, you’re so fucking tight.”
“It’s been a while,” I gasped as I pulled up and slid back again. That had us both groaning. Jeff was about my max; anything more would have been difficult to handle. I realized he was just about my limit both physically and emotionally as he bent up to kiss me again. Yeah, he could have had me the first night. I shuddered at how into him I was.
Jeff was all about the full experience. He played right along with the game, enjoying his role as the ‘needy client’. “Yeah,” he gasped as I lifted up and back again, “I need a really firm touch.” My hands were kneading his chest while my ass gripped him like a vise.
I rode him slow and long, mumbling about having to use special techniques to properly work his erectile muscles. He watched me; his hands explored my chest and arms and he whispered just enough hot encouragement for me to really enjoy myself. When my actions became more erratic, he began to thrust up into me; his short, quick thrusts hit my prostate like a homing missile. I braced my hands on his chest and he fucked the cum out of me. I don’t normally get loud, but as he launched me past the brink I cried out, shooting up to his chest with my release and rocked on his rod till I could catch my breath. He was still hard in me but his face looked totally sated.
He smiled and stroked my cheek. It was such a loving gesture. Most of my lovers after Daniel had been the fuck me, get off and sleep kind of guys. “You look so incredible when you cum.”
I wiggled my eyebrows and smiled. “You want to see it again?”
Groaning, he rocked up into me enough to remind me just how perfect a fit he was. “Oh, damn, I don’t think I’d survive another round. I’ve cum twice in less than an hour and I’m still hard and throbbing.”
“How about a shower, a nap and then we can see if it’s as good in bed.” I leaned in and tasted his lips.
He looked at me; his eyes were serious. He seemed to be weighing his words as he stroked my face. That such a big, masculine man could be so tender made my heart do flip-flops. “Trey, I think I’m falling for you.”
I thought those words would scare me or make me laugh. Instead, I looked into his eyes and realized that I had fallen the moment he said ‘everything’. “This is only our first date; let’s see how you feel a year from now.”
He hugged me and grinned. “A decade at least.” He really had the sexiest grin.
“Ok, but I’m not moving in till after our tenth date.”
He looked at me curiously and I smiled. “I don’t think I could pack everything up and get out of my lease in less than two weeks and I know we’ll want a few nights off to recover.”
“I like the way you think.”
I leaned back in and kissed him. I didn’t think I would ever get enough of his kisses. “Good, cause you’re going to have to deal with it for a long, long time.”
We made love two more times that night and several times every night after that for almost a month. We’ve calmed down since then, but when your partner is pushing fifty you can’t work him as hard as you did when he was in his thirties. Jeff was the only client I ever wanted to break the rules with; I didn’t, and I have never regretted it. Sometimes, good guys really do win.