MASSAGE BY RICK by K. Nitsua. Revised version copyright 2001 by the author.
The usual warnings and disclaimers apply.
I met Rick through an ad he placed in the "Personal Services" section of the classifieds in the local alternative newspaper. His ad was very brief and to the point: "Massage for men by Rick. Light or deep touch," and gave his phone and license number. I called and his voice was friendly, willing to explain that he did Swedish hot oil massage for so much per hour. He told me that although he was already licensed as a massage therapist, he was also studying to be certified as a physical therapist at the local state university. He was doing massages as a source of extra income to help put himself through school.
If Rick seemed like a straightforward person, the directions to his place (he worked out of his house) proved anything but. I got quite lost and had to call him again from a gas station to orient myself. When I finally got to his small rented house in the middle of town I was about half an hour late. When he opened the door, I apologized. "It's okay, it's a slow afternoon," he replied. "Come on in."
Rick was a tall and somewhat gangly man in his late twenties, I estimated, with a long face, and dark hair that was beginning to thin out a bit. Although not effusively friendly, he had a relaxed manner that put one at ease. Of his physical condition there was no doubt: in his white polo shirt and khaki shorts he was trim and fit. He was not wearing shoes and I could see the white athletic socks on his feet. The sight of his sinewy arms and legs made me want to see more of his body.
When I stepped into the house, I found myself in a modest living area, and, a bit to my surprise, the massage table was in the middle of the floor, directly ahead of me. Rick seemed to read my thoughts. "I work right here," he said, almost apologetically. "It's a really small house and it's either here or," gesturing to a door that opened off to one side, "the bedroom...and my bed takes up too much room. You can put your clothes there," he said, pointing to a couch, "and I'll go get things ready." He walked into the kitchen, the room beyond the one we were in.
I stripped off my clothes and lay down on the massage table on my stomach, assuming that he wanted to start with my back. It was then that I realized that Rick had not provided me with any draping towel. I usually did not use one even if it was provided; I guess I was a bit of an exhibitionist. For my thirty something years I am in pretty good shape. Still, it was a bit out of the ordinary for a therapist not to provide a choice. Had he simply forgotten? I decided to let it all hang out, so to speak, and let Rick handle matters any way he wanted.
Rick returned from the kitchen, carrying a small plastic bottle of massage oil that he had been warming in the microwave. He said nothing when he saw me. I took that to mean that my undraped condition didn't bother him. He set to work right away, with no small talk.
His massage was vigorous, his strokes rapid and quite deep. I was facing downward, of course, and as he worked in front of me I let myself gaze at his long, athletic-looking legs. They were nicely tanned and made his white athletic socks seem all the whiter. His belted khakis were too long and too loose-fitting to give any clue as to what might lie beneath them, but that particular problem was not preoccupying me at the moment. Although I was enjoying the massage and looking at what I could see of my masseur's body, I was only the tiniest bit aroused, because the massage itself was not in the least erotic. Oh well, maybe that was okay today--although I had found some therapists in the past surprisingly willing to give a little more than the standard treatment, it obviously wasn't going to happen every single time.
Rick asked me to turn over and continued his energetic work on my front side. Again, he seemed determined to avoid any overtly sensual gestures. Still, as he began to work on my pectorals I couldn't help getting a little excited, because my chest and particularly my nipples are extremely sensitive. I felt my previously soft cock begin to stir and grow a bit. Well, if he did massage, he's seen hardons, I thought.
Just then, Rick positioned himself behind my head, grasped my right hand, and lifted my arm above my head. In one long stroke with his other hand he swept down the back of my arm, past my armpit and onto my chest, passing directly over the nipple. He leaned forward to complete the stroke and I was very conscious of his strong presence directly over my face. He did this a number of times, and the repeated contacts to the erogenous zone began to make my breath come faster. He moved over to the other side and did the same stroke on my left arm, and I began to realize this might be an interesting therapy session after all. By the time he had brushed the left nipple a few times, my cock was fully hard and my breathing quite audible in the small room.
"Is this all right?" I heard Rick ask.
I didn't know how far he was prepared to go, but I was certainly going to encourage him all I could. "Just great, feels real good," I replied, which was the truth.
"Good, " Rick replied, "I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable."
I looked up at him. "More than comfortable."
Rick moved back over to my right side, took my hard organ in his slippery right hand and began to stroke it gently. It seemed I had given him all the encouragement he needed. I certainly liked this man's straightforward style, as much as I liked the hand job he was giving me. A moment later Rick returned to my already sensitized nipple with his left hand. At that, I couldn't help moaning a bit with pleasure. I looked up at Rick and he was smiling slightly. "Would it be all right if I got a little bit more comfortable?" he asked.
This was a total surprise. I had certainly been wrong in my first impression of this guy. "Sure, whatever you want," I managed to say. Rick let go of my body and quickly pulled his polo shirt over his head. As I had suspected, his chest was nicely muscled, his stomach hard and flat, the whole covered lightly with dark hair. He then undid his belt and his shorts fell away, revealing white cotton briefs with a sizable bulge. He quickly pulled those off as well, revealing a circumcised cock, not huge, but very nicely shaped with a flaring darker head, and right now, very erect. A neat pair of balls nestled underneath, the whole surrounded by a generous furring of pubic hair. All in all, it was a mouth-watering sight and I wanted what I saw in my mouth.
I put my hand on his ass and tried to propel him toward me but Rick resisted. "No, I don't do that," he said. "I'd love it if you'll jack me off, though."
He held the bottle of oil forward. "Sure, okay," I said, and after he had placed some of the lubricant in the palm of my hand, I began to work on his stiff dick. With me lying on the table and Rick standing by my side the angle was kind of uncomfortable. Rick realized this and said after a moment, "Let `s make this easier," and proceeded to climb onto the massage table with me. The sight of his long, lean body clad only in a pair of athletic socks was as hot as anything I'd seen in a long time.
I sat up as he knelt over my legs and took one of his nipples into my mouth, while I began to jack his cock again. I heard his breath start to come in quick gasps and knew he was going to shoot very soon. I worked harder and harder on his penis, twisting my hand on his dickhead for added sensation. As I sensed his gathering climax I reached behind his balls with my left hand and pushed my middle finger up his asshole, and in a moment was rewarded with a stream of white cum that spurted from his organ and splashed on my oily skin. I felt his cock throbbing in my hand as he bent his head down and grabbed my shoulders, his eyes closed and his mouth open, gasping and shuddering with the force of his orgasm. I felt good at having been able to give so much pleasure to this nice guy.
Long moments passed before he recovered enough to finish his job on my own dick. It didn't take long. Seeing him cum had brought me to the edge myself. After I had shot, Rick got a towel and wiped our bodies off. Then, sweetly, he put his arms around me again. We lay in each other's arms on the massage table, enjoying the afterglow.
"I should have suspected something when there was no draping towel," I told him, and he smiled.
After that first encounter with Rick, I naturally went back for more. He was certainly a consistent kind of guy. Though his massages never were the least bit sensual, we always ended up both naked (except for Rick's athletic socks, which he invariably kept on, as if he knew what a erotic sight that was) and both shooting our loads. Our encounters were as hot as the first time, but Rick had certain limits beyond which he would not go. He would not kiss or allow unprotected contact of any kind. "I'm pretty careful about what I do," he said. He was disarmingly frank about this and I really didn't mind, as what we did was more than satisfying. I did want to go a little bit beyond mutual jacking off, though, and after several meetings I decided to put my plan into action.
I was due to see Rick one Friday afternoon after work. By now I knew the way to his place and I arrived on time at five-thirty. As usual he was casually friendly; I had grown to like him quite a lot, and I think he liked me, but he always kept his distance. I wondered if what I was going to propose today would upset him, and perhaps cause him to terminate our relationship. I certainly hoped that would not be the case.
As usual, he waited to make any overt move to arouse me until he had me on my back and was working on my arms. Even though I knew that he would eventually begin to tease me by playing with my nipples, I still found that long sweep he did down my arms and onto my chest exciting, and my dick responded quickly. He soon was stripping his clothes off his lanky body, in preparation for the conclusion. I knew the time had come to make my proposal. "Rick," I said, touching his side.
"Would you rather not do this today?" he quickly asked.
"Oh, no," I laughed, "that's not what I was about to say at all. I was just wondering..."
"What?"
"...If you would like to do a little bit more today. I know you're concerned about safety, so I brought some equipment of my own. Look in the pocket of my shorts."
Rick walked to the couch, naked except for his athletic socks. He turned his back to me and bent over to search in my pocket and I thought I would shoot my load then and there, at the sight of his muscled back, tight buttocks, and long legs ending in those white socks. I wanted to fuck that ass so bad. He found the condom and tube of lubricant, and I held my breath wondering what he was going to say. Then he straightened and turned, and I saw the smile on his face. "Do you want me to put these on you?" he said.
"Yes," I replied, hardly believing my luck.
He came toward me, his own organ jutting stiffly forward. "I've wanted you to fuck me ever since I saw you for the first time," he said, "but I never had the nerve to ask...or," he added, smiling more broadly, "to bring a rubber to a massage appointment."
He placed the condom on my cock with an expert hand, after carefully wiping off the oil with a nearby towel. He then took my sheathed cock in his mouth for long moments before wetting it with the lube I had brought. Finally came the moment I had fantasized about so many times: he mounted the massage table and straddled my body, squatting down as he took my dick and guided it toward his butt. I would remember that particular view of Rick long afterward: his brown eyes meeting mine, dreamy with pleasure, his tall hard body above me, his long legs bent, knees thrust upward and the socked feet planted by my sides where I could grab his ankles. He held his stiff dick in one hand, mine in his other, and as I looked behind his balls I saw the rubber-covered shaft begin to disappear inside his body. In a moment I felt the smooth heat of his rectum surround me as he sank down on my cock. My eyes closed and my mouth opened as I surrendered myself to the sensations beginning to course through me. I saw his balls touch my body, then I saw them lift up again as Rick began to ride my cock, using his free hand to steady himself. Letting go of Rick's ankles, I began to use my fingers on his hard nipples. Rick closed his eyes, and his breath came faster. He leaned forward into a kneeling position but did not release his hold on my cock or his own for a second.
He began to ride my organ faster, and I responded with an upward thrust every time he pushed downward, so that my balls were slamming against his ass cheeks. My therapist was giving my dick an anal massage and I was loving every stroke. All too soon Rick's breaths turned into cries of ecstasy, and white creamy liquid shot from his cock held in his fist, splashing across my stomach. I felt the convulsive throbbing of his sphincter muscles and with one last thrust I let my own cock go, my cries blending with his own as I emptied my load into the rubber buried deep inside him. Even in the throes of orgasm I didn't want to worry him so I quickly withdrew. He got up off the table, retrieved a towel, and wiped the cum off my body. Then he mounted the table again and stretched out full length on top of me. I put my arms around him as I let my feet languidly caress his socked ankles.
We lay there a long time in that position, not saying much, letting the time slip away. I'm glad that we had that afternoon together, because it turned out to be the last.
I was pretty busy at my job and didn't see Rick for a few weeks. When I called him for another appointment his voice grew uncharacteristically hesitant. "Well, I'd certainly be glad to schedule a session with you, but..." he stopped.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Well," he finally continued, "I'm in a relationship now, and--"
"And what, Rick?"
"Well, my boyfriend's been very understanding about my work, but I don't feel that I can do anything more than massage my clients from now on. I'd be more than glad to keep seeing you, but it would have to be strictly non-sexual."
I said, slowly, "Rick, I understand and totally respect your decision. Thanks for telling me."
"Would you still like to make an appointment?"
I did see him a few more times, but it wasn't the same. Eventually Rick stopped taking massage clients altogether. I wasn't surprised that, as considerate a guy as he was, he would put his partner before making money or fooling around. Still, I miss him sometimes...
END