Chris - A Masseur to Remember

January is always slow. I usually spend it locked in my apartment catching up on movies and shows I missed in the fourth quarter of the previous year because it’s cold outside, my friends are all broke, and my freelance work is slow.

Tye: Yo, I’m in the city this weekend, want to vibe?

I’ve known Tye since film school; he’s one of my closest friends, and every time he’s in the city, we go out for dinner and drinks and see where the night takes us. It often ends in sex, not necessarily between the two of us, but sex gets had. This particular weekend is Tye’s birthday weekend, so I got excited at the prospects.

Me: I’m free all day Friday and Saturday, but I work Sunday night.

Tye: I’m spending time with my mom Friday, but let’s link on Saturday.

Me: Dope.

I don’t usually get that much of a confirmed plan from him; he usually plays things loose, so knowing we were hanging on Saturday and it was his birthday, I decided I’d make some plans to spoil him. The last time I spent his birthday weekend with him out in LA, I took him to a spa and then out for dinner, and we had a fantastic night. This time, I would take him for a massage at this men’s spa I go to in midtown. I haven’t been in a while because I’ve been busy, but I’ve been dying to go back because the last time I went, the masseur decided to throw caution to the wind and crossed the line ever so slightly into “unprofessional” territory. I’ve been there more than a dozen times, and that has never happened before. Nothing too crazy; he just got hard and put his clothed package in my hand to let me know he was hard, letting me massage him as he continued to massage me. Since I didn’t shy away from it, he paid extra attention to my ass, my hole, balls, and dick more than any of the other guys there. It was a major tease, but still was hot.

I was hoping to book Tye and myself a massage, then go out for dinner and drinks, my treat; then, hopefully, I would end up having sex with someone before the night was out. It’s been a while since I’ve been laid, partially for lack of trying, partially because Grindr has taken a dive for the worst, and I hate even signing on. Between all the ads and my grid seemingly full of guys looking for “Trans only, no men,” I find it to be a colossal waste of time. There are a few guys I’ve hooked up with that I still talk to through the app; one of them had sent me a message saying he would be in my neighborhood on Saturday. I told him I’d mostly likely be out but to hit me up anyway…it’s possible I’ll be home when he’s done hanging with his friends. I’m not really into him, per se, but it’s nice to know I have the option.

Saturday came around. I woke up early, cleaned the apartment, did laundry, and prepped for work on Sunday, so I could be hungover until I had to go to work if it came to that. I decided to play some video games while waiting for Tye to let me know when he was free, but by 3:00 pm, I decided to text him and find out.

Me: What’s the word?

An hour and a half later, he finally responded.

Tye: I am just waking up. Hungover.

Tye: Let me figure out my thoughts lol

Me: Lol, ok.

I know there’s a 90% chance he’s bailing on me at this point.

Another hour and a half went by, and he texted me again.

Tye: I laid back down. I guess I drunk too much yesterday.

This annoyed me since he was supposed to be “chillen with his mom,” but whatever. I know his brothers live near her place, so he probably went out with them. I can’t be mad; I'm just disappointed.

Me: You’re not 22 anymore…gotta save your bad decisions for hanging out with me. 😉

I knew there was no way we were hanging out tonight, so I canceled the dinner reservations. I was glad I hadn’t booked the massages because they make you pay upfront when you book the appointment. Fuck it. I decided I wouldn’t sit here and pout, that I would dive deep into the video game I’ve wanted to pick up for a long time but don’t because I don’t usually have large chunks of time to blow on any games.

I had an open bottle of Chardonnay someone brought over for my birthday a little over a week ago, so it needed to be finished off. I put my phone on the desk charger and turned on the TV for some background noise. I slipped into sweatpants and a loose-fitting shirt and started to play.

Let me preface this by saying that vampires are not my thing; sexy men I’m down for, but blood-sucking and blood in general are not for me. However, I had seen a clip of these hot vampires in the “Interview With A Vampire” series and decided to use that as my background TV stream. It turns out these vampires are really sexy and have lots of hot gay sex. The entire show is about the relationship between two gay vampires, which I hadn’t realized, and I was quickly getting sucked into the drama while playing my game. I thought it was going to be a True Blood situation where they were sometimes gay but mostly straight, so this show was really distracting.

The show was making me kinda horny, and out of curiosity, I opened Grindr. There were no messages from my friend, and he wasn’t showing as online. I didn’t bother looking at the local talent; the guys in my neighborhood are not for me. They are mostly on the “DL” spectrum and don’t want to chat or show face pics, so I’m out. Because Grindr is what it is, those same fifteen regular guys clog up my grid and just keep asking me to send them pics when I’ve already unlocked for them, so I just don’t.

Somewhere around the third and last glass of the wine, I realized I had a new message.

Mr. Benjamin: Body Work?

Hmm…I looked at his profile. It didn’t say his ethnicity, so I didn’t want to make assumptions about this message being broken English. His only pic was of himself in black CK briefs, which was pretty sexy despite not having a head on the shoulders.

Me: a massage?

Mr. Benjamin: yes

This is definitely a happy coincidence. I really wanted a massage, and one that didn't require me to get on the subway in the freezing cold for 45 minutes each way sounded like something I could get down for.

Me: How much?

Mr. Benjamin: 90mins
Mr. Benjamin: 150

Me: What’s the catch?

Mr. Benjamin: Nude Oil Massage + Sex
Mr. Benjamin: Do you want to try it?

I have no problem paying for a massage, especially a good one, and in NYC, a 90-minute massage for $150 is on par for a skilled masseur. The sex part I’m not on board with. The thing about me is I have this slutty side and can definitely have fun with a guy I just met, but I need some kind of connection…a natural attraction if I’m going to have sex with a guy. Even with the three glasses of wine and knowing I have the good amyl nitrate poppers in my drawer, I still will struggle to take even a smaller dick if I don’t feel a connection. A massage will certainly help me loosen up, but where it falls off for me is knowing I’m also paying for sex. It’s one thing if I’m going to a spa, paid for a massage only, and then the masseur is into me enough he’s willing to take career risks and cross the line…that’s flattering. But when I know the package deal includes the sex…eh, a huge turn-off for me.

Me: The nude oil massage sounds nice.

Mr. Benjamin: yes
Mr. Benjamin: you will be comfortable

I gave it a little more thought and was feeling better knowing it wouldn’t be sex, just the massage. The idea of him being stripped down to give the massage was hot for sure. I decided, “fuck it,” if he ends up giving the worst massage…I’m out $150, but even a lousy massage that gets me 90 minutes of naked touching from a hot guy who’s also naked will be fun—still a much cheaper evening than paying for two massages, dinner, and drinks with Tye.

Me: Do you do Venmo? I don’t keep that kind of cash.

Mr. Benjamin: Can Zelle

For some reason, Zelle seemed more personal, and I didn’t like the idea of my bank account touching his bank account; even though I’ve used Zelle to pay people for shit in the past, I usually reserve it for “loaning” family money. Alas, I decided I wanted the massage, and it wasn’t late yet, so I felt like it was somehow more “business proper” than “red light district” since it was barely 7:30 pm.

Me: I can do zelle

Mr. Benjamin: ok
Mr. Benjamin: Do you want to do now?

Me: Whenever you’re ready, I’m just chillen.

Mr. Benjamin: OK
Mr. Benjamin: Then I’ll arrive at 8 o’clock! 🌹

Me: Perfect

I sent him my address, brushed my teeth, and rinsed my body off in the shower. I had the window in the bedroom cracked open to help me sleep, so it was chilly. I threw on some clothes while I waited and realized I should close the window so it was warm enough to be exposed to him when he arrived. I wasn’t sure what the protocol was, and he didn’t give me any instructions, so I found a YouTube music video with an hour and twenty minutes of music I liked, put it on the TV, and set the screen settings to the dimmest possible setting. Then, I pulled the blankets off the bed and tossed them in the closet. I grabbed a towel from the linen closet, again, unsure of what I needed to be prepared for, but I left it rolled up in case he said we didn’t need that.

While I waited, I started to get nervous, all the same nervous feelings I get any time I invite someone to my place from the app. So I pulled out my poppers, took a deep hit, and left the bottle to sit on my nightstand. Of course, as soon as the wave washed over me, the door buzzer went off, and I tensed, jumped up, and ran down the hall to buzz him in. I thought about running back to the bedroom to hide the bottle so he didn’t get the wrong idea, but then decided I could leave it out because I can always tell him ‘no’ if he tries to take things further than I want. After all…I’m paying for this session.

I unlocked the door, and in stepped this fit Asian man, around 5’10” and probably 175 lbs of lean muscle. He was wearing winter gear, which came off quickly to reveal his comfortable yoga-esc clothes.

“I’m Chris,” I told him, extending my hand.

He shook my hand and said something with a very hard-to-understand accent. I asked him to repeat it twice and gave up trying to understand what he was saying. Then he gestured for me to lead him to the bedroom and followed me down the hall.

“I didn’t know what I needed to have set up,” I said, showing him what I had done. “Do we need a towel?” I asked as he pulled off his shirt, revealing his chiseled torso.

“Yes,” he said.

I unrolled it onto the bed and realized it was not the biggest towel. “I think…I must have a larger towel,” I ran into the hall and looked in the linen closet at the older towels on the bottom of the stack, grabbing the most colorful one, hoping it might be a beach towel. It wasn’t, but it was definitely bigger than the other one I had laid out. Bringing it back into the bedroom, I laid it in the middle of the bed while he set up his supplies on my desk.

He was stripped down to a pair of grey GAP briefs, but not the thick cotton ones I own; these were some sort of athletic material with a sexier cut that I’ve never seen before. I quickly pulled off my shirt and sweatpants, stripping down to my navy blue Hollister briefs. He adjusted the towel I laid out, bringing it closer to the side and foot of the mattress, which I realize makes sense and makes it easier for him to work around.

I hooked my thumbs in my underwear, “nude, right?”

He looked at me and smiled, “Yes.”

I dropped my underwear on the floor, and he pulled out his phone to play some calming music. I felt stupid for putting on my music, so I turned the TV off. He went to turn off the light, but I installed a fancy touchscreen dimmer switch a few months ago, and nobody but me seemed to understand how it works. So I showed him, and he laughed. I realized he didn’t understand anything I said.

He pulled out his phone and opened a translation app. He said something in what I assume was Mandarin, and the app spoke in a robotic woman's voice: “Lay down. I will make you feel good.”

The woman's voice definitely killed any mood being set here, and that was fine; this would be a professional-ish massage. I lay face down on the bed, and he quickly said something I didn’t understand. Looking over at him, I saw him gesturing for me to spin around, and I realized he wanted my head at the foot of the bed; again, I felt stupid and quickly flopped around.

He used the extra towel to cover my body the same way they do at the spa, using it to warm me up a bit, and then started the massage with the towel. He has incredibly strong hands, so this was already feeling good even through the towel. He also made a point of rubbing his package on my head when he leaned over me; it felt bigger than I expected. I wanted to grope him the way I did with the masseur at the spa, but even though he offered sex, I had told him I only wanted the massage, so I figured I would keep my hands to myself.

After a thorough rubdown with the towel on, he pulled it off and started squirting oil all over my back and a generous amount on my ass for the deep tissue portion of this massage. He smeared the oil generously over my back, shoulders, and arms, then back up my neck, down my back over my ass to my legs, then back up, barely grazing my ass crack, which I embarrassingly reacted to with a heavy breath and my ass instinctively responded by popping up ever so slightly.

His deep tissue massage was intense. The amount of pressure he put into my muscles was way too much for me; I squirmed like a man being tortured.

He asked in a low voice, “Is this ok?”

His English was rough, and it took me too long to translate in my head what he was saying; by the time I was able to speak, he dug deep into that sensitive area under my shoulder blades, working out the knots, but man alive, it was intense. The rest of my body squirmed and tensed uncontrollably as I tried my best not to wiggle out from under his hard-working hands. I finally was able to get the words, “ahhh, gentle,” out, but it didn’t seem to translate for him, and he continued as is.

At least, I think the word “gentle” was lost in translation, but he seemed able to read my body language to see it was too much for me. While one hand was digging deep into my muscle, the other would slide down my body, zero in on my hole, and play with my tight pucker to balance out or at least confuse my body into thinking this was a good feeling. It kinda worked. It at least distracted me. It was when his body-oil-lubed finger pushed into my hole that I shook him away. I thought he took the hint, but every so often, he would go back to my hole to calm me down when I’d squirm from his strong hands on my sensitive muscles.

When I realized he wasn’t going to be any more gentle, I tried to tough it out and let him do his thing. He really was doing a good job, and I hadn’t realized how tense I was until he dug into places other masseurs were too gentle on or barely got into at all. The most intense and exhausting part was my legs. I walk around the city all the time, up and down dozens of flights of stairs almost every day. I also do my squats when I work out, so my legs are in desperate need of strong hands. Holy shit, did he dig in too. I was looking forward to this part, even knowing it would feel like Guantanamo Bay-grade torture; it released so much tension from my body.

Instinctively, though, when he was attacking one leg, the other would shift up into a spooning position, the knee bending and sliding up closer to my waist, which also popped my ass out and exposed my hole, and he didn’t miss a beat by slipping a finger into my hole to balance out the pain with the pleasure. Normally, I don’t like to be fingered, but in this scenario, I was inviting it, albeit as a literal knee-jerk reaction, but it really helped.

After he finished both legs, he mumbled something, and I again couldn’t understand what he was saying, but I opened my eyes to see him gesturing for me to roll onto my back. I did as I was told, trying to catch my breath from that intense kneading and a little worried about how he would massage my front because I’ve always found the front massage to be awkward at best.

He started with my neck and shoulders; that’s when I felt the unmistakable thump of his nude, hard dick slap my cheek. At first, I ignored it, letting him enjoy this, knowing I was paying him and not putting out, which I realize is probably why the rate is what it is because he also gets sex out of it…usually. When he took his hands off my shoulders and wiggled his cock on my lips, I opened my eyes to see him looking down on me, expecting me to open my mouth for him.

“Oh, I don’t…” I started to say, but he pushed the head in my mouth. His cock was freshly clean and was average size, though a little thicker than average, so I let him put it in my mouth. I don’t like to give blow jobs typically; it doesn’t do anything for me, but I respect that it really gets some guys going, so I’ll do it, but I never seek it out. I thought since I was paying for this, I could easily tell him I didn’t want to do that, but he kept pushing into my mouth as he massaged me, and I caved. I didn’t put in any effort, but I opened enough to let him gently rock in and out; maybe I added some suction out of habit, but I guarantee he wasn’t impressed.

He seemed so unimpressed that he pulled a small, unlabeled blue glass bottle out of nowhere and handed it to me, mumbling something I did understand: “Poppers.”

“Oh, I, umm…” I wasn’t sure what to do. I wanted to tell him I had the good ones on my nightstand. I was too discombobulated from the torture…I mean massage, and I didn’t have it in me to try and say I had my own. I was curious, though; I had never seen this bottle before, and the purple cap made me wonder where these came from. So I took a big hit, and I’ll be damned, they were just as good as mine.

As the rush went through my body, he stuck his dick back in my mouth and continued to massage my chest, focusing on my nipples but massaging my pecs with the same force and full strength as he had with the rest of my body. The poppers helped a lot.

After a few minutes, he pulled his cock out of my mouth and went to the desk where he had his supplies. I took another hit of the poppers and twisted my head to see what he was doing and realized he had an unopened condom in his hand.

“Oh, I…um…don’t need,” I tried to put my thoughts together to explain in the most straightforward English that I didn’t want to have sex, that the massage was what I was paying for, but before I could get the words out, he cut me off.

“Bathroom?” He tore open the condom packet.

I pointed at the open bedroom door. My brain was scrambled from the massage; I was both incredibly relaxed and also felt like I had just gone a few rounds in an MMA fight. I vaguely pointed out the door and to the left, watching him walk naked out into the dimly lit hallway. The bathroom light was the only light in the hall, so he immediately noticed it and went in. I could hear him take a piss and do something else; I couldn’t guess what took so long. I took another hit of poppers while trying to think how to explain to him that I didn’t need the sex without offending him. I didn’t want him to think I was unhappy with this experience and was going to kick him out without sex because I was disappointed or something.

The poppers rushed through my body, and my horniness kicked in a bit. The brain in my balls started to realize I did want to get off. I can let him tease my hole with his cock while I jerk off and just cum real quick; that’s one of my favorites. That way, I would get my money's worth, and he wouldn’t leave thinking he had disappointed me.

He came back in and crawled right between my legs, spreading them, and started rubbing oil on my hole, slipping a finger in painfully quick.

“Ahhh….Ungh, I don’t actually…mmm,” I held up my hand in what I thought was the universal sign for ‘stop.’ “I don’t need that,” I tried to say as I jerked myself furiously in the hopes of busting a nut quickly. He just smiled at me, with a look on his face that let me know he really wasn’t understanding a word I was saying. He was just going through his routine. A system that has proved to work every single time. He pulled his fingers from my hole, nodding as though he understood what I said, and smiled at me. Then he pushed my legs up and started aiming his cock right at my hole, looking down so he could see what he was doing.

“Oh, I don’t actually need…AAAAHHHH, shiiit, gentle, man, gentle!” I groaned as his cock pushed into me, stretching my hole and gliding over my prostate until he was most of the way in.

He kept nudging in, smiling at me, seemingly not understanding the word “gentle” despite my groans and hissing. The pain from his quick entry was searing, his cock was thicker than I’d had in a while, and he was pushing balls deep with only the body oil for lube. I felt all my muscles tensing back up as I tried to relax and breathe as I normally would, but it was too much when he decided to try to get straight to full-paced fucking. “Wait, wait,” I huffed, clenching, his eyes finally meeting mine even though he didn’t stop thrusting. “Do you have a condom on?” I had seen him walk into the bathroom holding the condom, but I didn’t see him when he came back into the room, so I wanted to make sure.

He pulled his dick out and looked at me confused, “Condom?” He pointed to his dick, which I couldn’t see between my legs.

I tried to catch my breath, “Yeah, are you wearing a condom?” I said slowly and somewhat obnoxiously annunciating.

He sat up higher on his knees, his rock-hard dick coming into view, with the condom on. He pointed, confused, mumbling something and the word “condom” as he slipped his thumb under the rubber, almost sliding it off.

I quickly realized that he thought I was asking him to remove it. “No, you’re good.” I gave him a thumbs-up and smiled.

“Sure?” He asked with concern in his eyes as if he had done something to displease me, which almost made me laugh because this was not going well with the language barrier, and that’s the one thing he thought was displeasing.

“It’s fine,” I said, reaching for my dick again, hoping to get off quickly so this can just be over.

He puts my legs on his shoulders and starts hunting my hole with his cock. I grabbed his poppers, shaking them, “Be gentle,” I said, knowing the word meant nothing to him, and slowly took a long hit. He nodded, then started pushing in ever so slightly gentler than before. “Ahhh, shit, easy, easy,” I groaned, the poppers doing their best to make this less intense.

I grabbed my cock and started jerking off, trying to angle my ass on his fuck stick to get some kind of pleasure out of it as he ramped right up to full-speed fucking. He was pounding my prostate, which did feel good, but my ass was feeling torn up from the rough fucking, and the body oil is no substitute for proper lube. The friction between him and me is pretty terrible and ruining any similitude of pleasure I can find in his fucking. “Ahh, fuck, easy,” I groaned again, getting myself closer to orgasm but not close enough. Feeling the poppers wearing off, I felt around for the bottle.

He kept pounding my hole and leaned over me, grabbing the bottle and handing it to me. He didn’t slow at all for me to take a hit; he just kept pounding deep. I took my hit anyway; I needed it to survive the onslaught at this point. My dick was quickly going soft, and now my goal was to get him off because it would for sure end if he blew his load.

One more hit of the poppers, and I asked, “Are you close?”

He looked at me, confused again.

“Are you ready to cum?” I hit the word ‘cum’ pretty hard.

His eyes widened, “Me cum?”

“Yeah, ahh, you cum,” I groaned from the pistoning cock.

He chuckled, “No, no, you cum.”

“Ahh, fuck no, you…umm, I want you to cum,” I told him.

He cocked his head to the side, still not understanding.

“I want you…ahh cum,” I groaned.

He smiled, “Yes, yes, I cum,” he said, nodding emphatically. He pulled his dick out, tore off the condom, and pushed into my ass raw.

“Ahhh, fuuuuck,” the precum-covered cock was not lubed properly, and neither was my hole; the burn was intense. His fucking was relentless. “Not in me,” I tried to say.

“Yes, I cum,” he said, his breathing getting heavy as he pushed himself to the brink. Hitting inside me so deep and hard my toes were curling.

“Ahh, ahhh, mmm,” he grunted, and he slammed his hips into my ass, his cock twitching in my struggling hole, coating my insides with his hot load. “Mmm,” he took a deep breath, “I cum,” he smiled at me, beaming with pride, retracting his hips and then slamming into me again, coating my insides with the soothing warmth and slickness of his load.

I felt relief that the fucking stopped. Shaking my head but forcing a smile for his sake as I catch my breath. He slowly pulled out of my wet hole, his cum leaking out onto the towel. He let my legs fall down to his muscular thighs. He started playing with my now soft cock, trying to bring it back to life, looking at me concerned again. “You cum?”

I brushed his hand off my dick, “No, it’s ok, I don’t…I’m overstimulated,” I said, flashing him my best-satisfied smile, knowing that word was going to bounce right off of him.

“Ok, ok,” he said, watching me catch my breath.

I closed my eyes and tried to rest for a minute. My body had just gone through a lot over the last 90 minutes. He got up, went into my bathroom, washed himself up, and then came back into the room. I didn’t want to get up, so I pointed at my desk, where my phone was on the charger. “Can you hand me? " My brain flatlined. My body was utterly worn out and felt like it was in low-power mode; only life support was running.

He looked at the desk to see what I might have been asking for and grabbed a packet of Windex Wipes I use to clean my computer and other screens, handing it to me. I chuckled, “Oh no,” I set it down. He picked it up, opening it like he was going to clean me up with it; I grabbed it from him. “No, these,” I huffed, sitting up, “These are Windex, cleaning, chemical,” I pointed at the logo that…I thought he might recognize as a glass cleaner but also didn’t have the energy to care.

I forced myself to get out of bed and wash my hands. The body oil was all over and in me, along with his personal fluids. I was going to have to shower when he left. I returned to my desk, where he was packing his supplies and already had his underwear back on. I grabbed my phone, “This is what I was looking for,” I told him as I opened the Zelle app. I told him to type in his info, and he did. Then I sent him $180 because I always tip. He was very gracious.

He dressed quickly, and I walked him back to the door, letting him out and locking it behind him.

Then I went and pushed his cum out and took a long hot shower. My body was absolutely drained, and my muscles were wrecked inside and out. I just need to sleep. But of course, I still couldn’t go to sleep without rubbing out that nut that I had almost gotten. I pulled up Breeding.Zone and read an incredibly hot story, blowing my load all over my abs, draining my nuts and the last ounce of energy I had in me. I cleaned it up with one of the towels from the massage and passed out. I had the best sleep I’ve had in a long time that night.