Note: Sorry for the formatting error that made quotation marks come out as question marks. I'll try to do better on part two.
I am a massage therapist as you can see, but what about the leg thing. I think, deep down, that one's profession is dictated by hidden sexual imperatives. Maybe shoe salesmen have shoe fetishes. Then too, I hate to think about undertakers, or proctologists. Anyway here I am, another day, another pair of legs to caress. My next patient is an Asian guy. He is a champ golfer. Chis Fong. The chart says he's seventeen, tripped at the sixth hole and has a swollen ankle. Doc Jim Xrated and found nothing broken so he is passed on to me.
I invited him in. He was tall for an Asian and lacked that usual polite diffidence one usually expects. This kid knew he was good and he was rich from all those advertising endorsements. If you looked up "attitude" in the dictionary, you'd find his picture there. But what was worse, he affected a bored demeanor.
I had to try and gain some control. "Please remove your clothing in the booth and put on the robe there."
He almost yawned with lack of excitement as he strolled to the booth. I watched his retreating body. He was gorgeous. That perky ass, his long slim body and pale bronze complection, not to mention his pretty face with the most perfect eyes.
He returned, carried on his almond smooth, perfectly shaped legs. I saw that he wore an elastic sock over his right ankle and he favored his right leg slightly. I had him sit up on the examining table and I pulled up a stool. "I'll take off the elastic sock now and have a look."
As I removed it, he winced and angrily said, "You oaf, can't you do things without hurting the patient. Maybe you should call in the doctor."
That hurt me more than his ankle hurt him. This beautiful boy was a shithead.
I noticed when the robe opened that he was wearing red bikini shorts. The pouch was full. So much for the old saws about Asians.
I began a very soft massage of the upper leg,thrilling to the soft silky skin, gradually moving downward until just above the swollen part. Chris liked that. I heard him breathing softly with, what I thought might be beginnings of sexual awakening.
I was zoning out in my own world, hie skin transmitting sexy feelings thaat travelled up my arm and to my chest, my nipples growing and demanding attention. I took my finger and stimulated them. Chris noticed that through his half opened eyes. Suddenly he lifted his head.
Now he had an amazing voice, it was buttery and soft, yet commanding.
"Assistant Boy, close and lock the door."
I don't know why I obeyed. Something in me had to. I returned to stand close to his knees.
"No more treatment for me. Now comes your treatment. Remove those ridiculous green pants and blouse and go to your desk and lean over it with your ass waiting to be filled."
I answered in a voiced I hardly recognized as my own. "Yes Sir. Immediately."
In a moment the draw string was pulled and the pants fell to my ankles and I kicked them away. Another moment and I pulled off the scrub stop. I leaned over the desk as ordered. I could feel cold air from the airconditioning swirling around my ass hole. I heard Chris approaching. He stood behind me and laughed aardonically.
"Your pink ass mouth is kissing the air, pleading to be entered."
I have never been fucked. I was sweating with fear, but if I had to chose someone to deflower me, Chris and his thin, gently curved prick was the perfect one.
He entered slowly, wanking me carefully to detract me from feeling his entry. In a moment, he was in me to the hilt, my blond ass against his bristly Chinese pubic hair.
He began an agonizingly slow fuck. My blood was boiling. He knew what he was doing. He was waiting for my impatience and neediness to express itself. He was right. I shouted out like a two-bit whore, "Fuck my brains out."
So we commensed a brutal, rapid, hard fuck that snapped my head up and down. I loved every minute of it. His constant raking over my protate was fast bringing me to climax. He could feel my prostate vibrating and my ass lips clutching.
"It's okay bitch-boi, I give you permission. Shoot your wad."
I gave in to my orgasm and as it overtook me, I could feel the Chinese soup expelled from Chris hitting my insides. We were both howling with the excitement until it gradually ended by my cock dripped a few drops and Chris making diminishing fuckings.
It was over!
Chris go up briskly, wiped himself from the box of tissues and dressed quickly.
"Later man," he said and was gone.
I was pooped. I took a shower. When I came out, drying myself, there was Dr. Jim.
"Hey Frank, I hear you suck a nice cock...and supply a hot ass."
At first I was getting angry, then I laughed. "They never told me in massage school that I would have to do these things. I am sunning an XXX operation here...and it's all going in one direction: I give and the patient receives."
"I know, and that is why I am here. Sit on that chair and spread."
"Oh yeah," I breathed. Now was my turn.
Jim had soft pillow lips and they began a delcious blow job. In a minute, I was off in orbit and moaning like a calf in heat. Jim kept patting my belly in an attempt to cncourage and comfort me. Then, all that pent up spooge that hadn't had a chanced to shoot the last few days camed pouring out, and pouring and pouring. Jim's eyes widened in surprise, but he slurped and swallowed like a good soldier.
"That's all I have," I said weakly.
Jim stood up, smiling, "You are hot, hotter than i thought. We must pencil in an hour appointment each day for staff development."
I was almost too weak to reply, but I mumbled, "Just an hour?"
End