A straight massage?

After a crazy month as an account manager in an advertising agency, I was nearing my limit. Working 16 hour days, no lunch breaks, exceptional stress levels, and a super demanding client were all combining to make me an absolute mess. My body felt like it had been crammed inside an airtight container for way too long… I needed some ‘me’ time. At 36 years old, I was used to spending more time in the gym than my schedule had allowed me during this past month, and I felt that my muscles really needed to be woken up.

I’ve been a workaholic all of my life. Hours with a therapist I saw briefly a few years ago seemed to conclude that I was trying to fill some unspoken, subconscious void in my life with stupid amounts of work. Sure, I was doing well at the agency, and was their top account manager, but I knew it was probably overkill when even the owner repeatedly told me to ‘take it down a notch’ and take more vacation time.

But this morning’s client meeting was still fresh in my mind, as I think it had been the first time that I felt like I was either going to pass out from exhaustion, or slap the arrogant client out of frustration. Yup….I was definitely nearing my limits.

I told my assistant not to disturb me for the next hour, and closed the door to my office. I wasn't quite sure what I needed, I just knew that I needed something physical and relaxing for myself. I’m 5’10, 165, in good shape with a runner’s build and great tone. I turned to my computer, opened up Craigslist, and started scanning online ads in the “therapeutic massage” section. In the past, I've always gone to women for massages at my chiropractor's office... thought that today I needed the stronger hands of a male and my brother-in-law had mentioned that he found some great therapists by checking online.

My attention was piqued when I saw an ad for a massage guy whose place seemed to be pretty close to my office. He seemed to meet all of my criteria: he noted that he worked on a massage table, which is mandatory for me. I once had a massage from a masseuse who worked on a sloppy futon bed, and I swore never to do that again - I think I left more tense that time than when I walked in. This guy’s ad also stated that he did deep bodywork, offered 90 minute sessions, and had great experience.

This guy interestingly noted that he was a model, which seemed a little weird to me, considering that it was posted under the therapeutic massage categories. Part of me wondered if it might have been his way of attracting more female clients… but then part of me wondered if it might have been his way of attracting gay or bisexual male clients . Like I said, I've never had a massage from a male before, and actually hadn't had any m2m contact except for some circle jerks back in high school.

Not wanting to lose the momentum of this moment, I immediately e-mailed “Jay” to see if was available for later that day. I continued to scan some other ads, and tried to contact the strong-looking Hungarian female massage therapist whose hands looked like meat hooks. When I noticed a response in my inbox from Jay, I was surprised when I felt a small smile creep across my face.

Turns out that he was available to see me within the hour, as another client had reportedly cancelled. We exchanged a few quick e-mails, confirming his apartment number and a few other details. He asked about previous massage experience, injuries, age, and general health profile. My assistant was startled when I told her I was leaving for the rest of the day, and it was only 4 pm.... but I think she knew that I was close to imploding. I quickly showered in the office gym facilities, and made my way over to Jay’s place.

It was with a weird mixture of excitement and apprehension that I buzzed up to his apartment. I’m generally totally in control of myself in any situation that I find myself in, but for some reason today, everything felt a little tentative, as I kept mentally scanning back to the details of this massage guy’s ad. He actually didn’t speak over the intercom, but just buzzed me in. Damn, I hoped this wasn’t a huge mistake.

Jay met me at his apartment door with a huge grin and an amazing handshake. Easy to see why this guy could model. He was stunning. He was a little shorter than me at 5’8, with startling blue eyes, short brown hair, a trimmed goatee, and beautifully tanned skin. He was wearing a tight white T-shirt that showed off his incredible chest, biceps, triceps….and loose grey cotton pants. I would say he was in his mid-20s.

He led me into his massage room, which was an incredibly warm and sun filled atrium at the front of his apartment, overlooking the lake. I did notice a few clues in the place that lead me to believe he lived with a woman (high-heels under the coffee table, make-up on the kitchen counter…). He asked me again if I had any health concerns that he should be aware of, and then gave me a glass of cool water to sip on. He seemed completely relaxed and comfortable with himself, and there was no sexual energy in the room from him. I, on the other hand, found him incredibly attractive and wondered how I would be able to keep myself under control while under his hands. Again, I’ve spent most of my adult life in bed with sporadic girlfriends, who always seemed to tire of my busy work life, although a couple of them had told me my lack of interest in them sexually had left them feeling less than desirable. I never knew quite how to respond to those kinds of comments.

Anyway, Jay closed the blinds in the massage room and told me to undress to my comfort level, pointing to a hanger on the back of the door for my clothes. He told me to lie face down on the table when undressed, and then he went out, softly closing the door behind him as he went. It wasn’t until after he had left that I realized there was no draping sheet on the massage table...just a fitted bottom sheet. Damn, how the hell was I going to manage not reacting as he worked my body? I’ve always popped a hard-on when getting massaged by women, but could at least hide it under a sheet. Now my hard cock would be flapping in the wind if I did pop wood. Was it just me or was it getting warmer in here?

I quickly jumped out of my suit, and plopped myself down on the table, stomach down, as he had instructed. A few minutes later, Jay knocked on the door and came back into the room. I kept reminding myself that I was there for relaxation, and not to keep obsessing about this very hot young man kneading my muscles.

He told me that he had been training locally for massage therapy, but started travelling with modelling contracts internationally, so had quit school. He was now back in Toronto after 2 years of crazy travel, and wanted to get back into massage school to finish his last year. In the meantime, these massages were paying bills, even though he apologized that he couldn’t give me a legit receipt for insurance purposes. I didn’t care – I just needed my muscles worked over. He said that his girlfriend was the one who had encouraged him to start advertising on-line, so in deed, Jay was a straight boy. I just contented myself with the thought that I was about to get a good, well-deserved massage.

He turned off the overhead lights, lit what must have been a dozen pillared candles, set up his I-Pod to what turned out to be a great chilled jazz set, and got to work. He placed both hands on my middle back, took 3 or 4 deep breaths in, and then instructed me to follow his breathing pattern. I already started to feel less tense, and made a conscious decision to just let myself go and not think about anything for the next 90 mins. Who cared if my bubble butt was in view for all to see? no clue that this would anything but a great, professional massage.

He started on my lower back, working with deep, flowing movements up into my middle back. He worked the left side, then crossed to the other side of the table and did the same on the left side. His work was very fluid and deep, and he would slow to give extra attention to particularly tight muscles around my shoulder blades. Next he seemed to get down on his knees and work my left, then right, arm…efficiently and effectively pulling the tension out of my muscled biceps and triceps. He did great work on my hands too, which no other massage therapist had done before.

Through the whole in the headrest, I could see his beautiful feet, and found myself almost laughing at loud at the fact that I had even NOTICED his feet?? What was going on here? In his deep yet mellow voice, he asked me if I was doing ok so far. I mumbled a “yes, mate” and realized that this was the most relaxed I had been in months. I was totally content.

He moved from my upper torso and, after oiling his hands again, moved to my legs. Years of cycling have given me great legs and glutes, but they’ve also been my most sensitive areas. I was pleased when he started at my left foot, moving up my calf, and then onto the hamstring. His touch was never tentative or nervous; he approached each muscle group with determination. But damn if he wasn’t making a huge “c” out of both of his hands and running them all the way up the outside and inside of my leg, right into the space between my leg and balls?! It felt so good, and I knew I was going to get hard in a second. Yup. That’s all it took. One second later, I felt the blood surge into my flaccid dick that was pointing south between my legs. He kept at it, really getting in there, and I couldn’t help from getting goose bumps whenever he accidentally touched my scrotum. This went on for a good 5 minutes….he was driving me insane.

He took his hands off my legs, took a gulp of water from his water bottle, and then brought his hands down onto my ass cheeks with renewed vigour. This straight guy was kneading my buttocks like they were mounds of dough he was very angry with. Occasionally, he’d grab both at the same time so that my crack was open and exposed to air for a few seconds and I thought I’d shoot right then and then. My cock was chafing against the table underneath me, and I didn’t know how to stop the oncoming orgasm. Did I even want to stop it?

As if reading my thoughts, Jay abruptly stopped his work on my ass. I actually heard myself exhale a huge sigh, as I has been apparently holding my breath. I was just about to thank him for the most satisfying massage when he casually said, “ok, I’d like for you to roll onto your back so I can continue the front”.

My heart skipped a beat. How in the hell was I supposed to roll over and have this straight but see my hard-on. I delayed a few seconds by pretending to stretch my arms, while thinking of old ladies in cold showers, but that erection was NOT going down. Well, I rationalized that since he didn’t cover me with a sheet to begin with, then he was maybe used to seeing an occasional hard-on. He asked me again to roll over….and so, while keeping my eyes shut so as to not see his expression, I flipped onto my back and felt my cock spring up from my stomach and point towards the stars. Damn, this was awkward.

Jay didn’t seem to notice. Well, at least he didn’t comment on my dick as he started working my pecs. It was just then that I realized I was leaking pre-cum. This could NOT get more embarrassing. I could feel its cool wetness slide down my shaft and start to puddle in what remains of my trimmed pubes. Jay finished the pecs, and moved on to my abdomen, which by this time, was heaving with excitement and fear. But again, he just kept on massaging me, seemingly oblivious to my state of near-explosion.