The Out of Towner The cum was at a slow simmer in my balls; I knew that I needed release. The kind that I could get from a man's body. I responded to an ad in a local paper for "a charming masseur" (Prince...?), and easily found the apartment in a busy area of midtown.
A young man met me at the door, and showed me into a first floor apartment. He led the way through a hallway and into a bedroom. On the way I observed a pet bowl on the kitchen floor, and then saw a cat approach it and critically sniff at its contents. There was no other sign of life, although I was told by the masseur that it was a shared apartment. The "charming masseur" was a rather despondent looking young guy probably somewhere in his late twenties, thin, with an attractive but somber face. He was dressed in gym shorts and a pullover.
The massage table was a mattress on the floor of the bedroom with a sheet thrown over it. I stripped and tried to start up a conversation. It was tough. The guy went about his task resignedly and with little joy or talent. He did a workmanlike job on my legs and back and asked me to turn over. He did not remove any clothes. After I turned over on to my back, I expected that he would work on my chest but he reached immediately for my dick and began masturbating it quickly and without feeling, as though he were greasing a pole. I managed to get out of him that he had been in New York for only three months and was trying to make it as an actor. He was finding the going very tough and had set a limit of the end of the summer to land a job, or he would return home, which was somewhere in Ohio. I felt sorry for him, but was getting little sensual pleasure out of this massage. I tried to gently grope him, and hinted that he remove some clothes, but he moved away making it clear that this was to be a one way massage.
After some more conversation, he began to warm up a little, and commented on my darkly tanned legs and chest which stood out in contrast to my white ass and mid section. I told him that I owned a vacation home near the beach and had been spending a lot of time outdoors.
"Near the beach?" he asked. "There's a beach in New York?"
My heart went out to this poor, unhappy Out of Towner who hadn't even discovered the shoreline of New York. He had not been to, nor heard about, any beaches within the boroughs of New York City, of which there are several, and he was totally unaware of nearby Long Island or the Connecticut shore. I told him a bit about local shore beach communities and encouraged him to visit a beach while he was here. He didn't seem very interested, however. He was focused entirely on pounding the Manhattan pavements in search of vocational success.
And speaking of pounding, he jerked me quickly to an unfulfilling come. He jumped back as I shot a healthy wad into the air, as though it might be radioactive. It landed on my stomach, and as it did, I reached into the Out of Towner's gym shorts and grabbed a hold of a nice soft rubbery dick with a big head. He didn't jump back this time, allowing this personal touch. I reached under and cupped a pair of big hairy balls. Looking up at him I observed a tense pained expression on his face that took all the fun out of this intimacy. I therefore extracted my hand from his shorts, never having actually seen his cock or balls. He stood up and got a roll of paper towels from somewhere, and I removed a few sheets of the toweling and cleaned myself up. I balled up the toweling and left it on the sheet, and started to dress. The Out of Towner carried a plastic waste paper basket over and placed it on the mattress. As I pulled on my socks, he pointed to the paper towel that I had wiped my cum splattered belly with, indicating that I should put it in the basket. I was more than a bit insulted by this gesture, since I regarded myself as extremely cautious sexually, and I was being trumped by someone infinitely more paranoid than I. Surely he knew that it was extremely unlikely that a person could catch something horrible by touching a damp paper towel. I ignored the hint, as I continued to dress. The Out of Towner therefore bent over and with two fingers gingerly lifted the paper towel from one little dry end and deposited it into the basket. Well, although for a moment I had been annoyed by his phobia, in retrospect I applaud this out of work actor's caution in the midst of the AIDS pandemic.
I hope that he got a job quickly. Or is happily back in Ohio doing something he likes. And, in either case, I do hope that he took a day off to see Jones Beach or Fire Island.