Sessions With A Masseur Named Mikey: Installment 2
by Dave Krenshaw: davekrenshaw@yahoo.com
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This story is entirely a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents portrayed in such work are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, that you yourself have knowledge of is entirely coincidental. Also, please keep in mind that nothing in this story is being presented with the intent of condoning or promoting unsafe sexual practices of any kind whatsoever; or activities between consenting adults that are in jurisdictions actually or in all likelihood illegal. All comments as to this story are greatly appreciated: Please send the same to me at: davekrenshaw@yahoo.com (Please put the title of this story in the subject line of your email, so that I will know that your email is not any type of commercial solicitation); and please be sure to state in your email if a reply from me is welcome.
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"Yes, Rick, I have been expecting you. The door is open downstairs. Please take your time parking your sedan."
I hastily hang up the phone. It's the day after Thanksgiving Day; and I have been booked solid since 8 AM. The air in the condo has subtle hints of residuals of the aromas of roasted turkey and cornbread stuffing.
I go into the master bedroom; and light the vanilla-scented candles. Then, I turn on the classical music station on the stereo system in the living room.
I have absolutely nothing on whatosever; and, frankly, that's the way Rick always prefers it to be.
"I am sorry I am a bit late. I got delayed, the traffic was a killer today.," the muscular man in the doorway mumbles, his eyes fixated on my rear as I am bending over and lighting the last candle on the dresser opposite the headboard.
Rick, who is about forty-four, is an ex-physical fitness trainer who is now the chief executive officer of a nutrition and wellness company based in northern Palm Beach County. He spends most of his free time these days at the beach: He, therefore, sports a rocking tan that puts even the top-knotch movie stars in Hollywood to shame.
"No need to apologize whatsoever. For me, your timing works out just grand, in fact it gave me a bit of extra time to set things up for you just the way you like it."
I turn around; and see right away that Rick is grimacing.
"What happened?"
"It's nothing, really, I just strained my shoulder a bit working out at the Gym late last night. I sent you an email about that, but you probably haven't had a chance to check your email just yet."
I am staring at Rick; and he is looking intently at me with those piercing blue eyes of his. The very first time I had seen those eyes of his, the effect was a bit hypnotic: He has this aura about him that reminds me of a sexy version of Mister Clean from those TV ads of some years back. I do my best to mask my sincere concern about the seriousness of the recent injury, but, as usual, Rick picks up on my feelings.
"Mikey, don't worry about it. Besides, you always have just the right touch, I am certain you can help."
"THAT I most certainly can.," I replied, smiling sheepishly.
Rick often comes to my residence dressed in business suits, but on his days off from work, he usually comes dressed in shorts and a tee-shirt. Today, he is wearing white tennis shoes with low-cut white cotton socks, tight denim shorts, and a V-necked sky-blue ribbed tank top.
I quickly close the window blinds and turn off the night-stand lamps, remembering that ambience counts a great deal with this regular. I am feeling a bit drowsy, but I do eye Rick as he removes his ivory boxer briefs; and gets comfortable in the center of the bed.
I hop onto the bed; and move into a comfortable-enough and for me the standard kneeling position between his manly legs.
I grab the bottle of massage lotion from the night-stand. I pump out a small bit of the lotion into my hands; and gently rub the same with my fingertips primarily into the shoulders, neck, and upper back. I give extra-gentle attention while massaging the same to Rick's injured shoulder.
"You must see a whole lot of COCK, Mikey?"
"Pardon?"
"You heard me, right, is that right, Mikey?"
"All right, well, frankly, YES, I do, indeed, at that: It's one of the perks of the job, one could say."
"I bet you do at that, Mikey, my boy.," Rick responded, chuckling.
If I did not know better, I frankly might have thought that Rick had been nipping on the sherry before strolling in for his usual appointment.
"Just relax, Rick, now, doesn't that feel a whole lot better, truly, huh?"
"Yep, sure does, but you know what would feel even better, Mikey?"
I say nothing, I am a little bit confused, in truth. Frankly, I do not recall Rick acting quite like this ever before.
Rick turns over so that he is lying on his back; and hurriedly grabs a feather down pillow and shoves the same under his head for comfort.
"How about you help me out tonight, Mikey, baby, okay? If you play your cards right, I will leave two one-hundred-dollar bills on that dresser of yours for your gratuity."
"I always do the standard release for you."
"I KNOW. I don't want the standard tonight, I want the SPECIAL, get it, Mikey?"
I feel like I am being treated like a common whore. THIS is not the type of treatment I am used to. Then, again, I think, two hundred smackers is still just that; and, certainly, I can use the cash, especially with the maintenance fee recently having been markedly raised by the condo association for my development.
Rick isn't very hard, at the moment. He has a perfect uncut cock that is about nine inches when fully soft and has a great deal of thickness to its shaft. He keeps his cock and balls, which are a bit on the small size, fully shaved; and they stand out in striking contrast to his pretty hairy body.
I resignedly grab the tiny tube of cherry-flavored lube from the left-side nightstand. I squeezes out three dabs into my palm; and massage it over the full length of the shaft; and also over the foreskin-covering of the head of the cock.
"Come to Daddy, Mikey, that's it, show him what you really do best."
I gingerly place Rick's cock between my lips; and slowly suck on the lower end of the same. I hear Rick moan; and feel him running his fingertips through my wavy hair.
Rick is getting harder and harder in my mouth; and I can feel that his foreskin has retracted fully and his now-exposed head is exploring the deep confines of my throat.
Rick grips the nape of my neck, holding my head in place. I am gagging a bit, but holding my own, as I feel Rick getting closer as he repeatedly thrusts a bit inward and partially-out.
"Uhm, yeah, that's it, Mikey, now just swallow it all."
The cum, I cannot quite taste it, but I do feel the sensation of a massive deluge going down my throat.
Rick pops his cock out; and I lick clean the head as it drips a bit of residual cum onto the bright peach-colored satin sheet my regular is lying on.
Rick grabs me by the waist and pulls me into our usual spooning position. I am more than a bit tuckered out, by this point; and, besides, I am well-aware that Rick is a cuddler; and cuddling simply makes him happy.
Rick drapes his hand over my cock, I fall asleep within seconds. When I awaken about two hours later, Rick is gone: There are three one-hundred-dollar bills on the dresser sticking out of a medium-sized white envelope. I go downstairs to double-check that Rick turned the lock on the handle so that the front door is locked; and then race upstairs to shower quickly and get ready for the last session scheduled for the day. Admittedly, I do think about Rick while in the shower; and find that I am, to my surprise, very turned-on by this forceful and very much assertive version of him: It's almost like a brand-new Rick has come into being, from my perspective; and, as the water cascades over my manly and yet baby-soft flesh and I enjoy the invigorating pulsation of the shower massage, my rock-hard cock that is throbbing while in my hand confirms to me that there is some part of me that does, indeed, like this new version of Rick. Still, Rick, as far as I know, is a happily-married businessman; and, so, I caution myself not to be too intrigued by the possibilities. THIS for me, I remind myself, is business after all, nothing more, nothing less.