In July 2012 I was 19 years old and in my third year of university. I had two more to go, law being a five year programme. My life consisted of lectures, study, work at a pub, some pool cleaning clients, working out and footy, a decent social life, some cruising and a bit of hustling on the side. Yeah, pretty busy!
I was still using Dad's garage gym, where I did big lifts 4 times a week (push/pull/legs/full-body), plus running or pool swimming at least once, and a bit of surfing whenever I could, so my physique was pretty rockin' and at that age I had a very decent 6-pack and a pair of fine cum gutters. A medium covering of dark blond hair had fully flourished over my chest, fanning out over my pecs and narrowing to a trail down through the groove of my abs to my pubes. By then I'd grown a little hair on my shoulders and upper back but not a lot, aside from a patch at the base of my spine over my ass crack. My pits, arms, legs and crack were pretty hairy and I'd started to trim my bush and shave my sack and shaft. My thick dark blond hair grew past my shoulders and I usually wore it up in a man-bun. I had just decided to experiment with a beard for the first time but it had only been a couple of weeks since I'd stopped shaving, so there was some thick, dark blond scruff on my jaw. I'd also got my right earlobe pierced a couple of years earlier and wore a silver ring in it.
I had experienced a bit of muscle soreness, probably from trying to lift a bit too heavy, especially in my squats and deads. I thought maybe it would be nice to try a professional sports massage, which I'd never had before. I wasn't a member at the uni gym but the reception area and cafe was open to everyone and there was a notice board there where I'd seen ads before. I scanned it and found a guy named "Mitch" who looked decent. His flyer had a (slightly crappy) photo of him; he was pretty handsome, either bald or with a skinhead (it was hard to tell), some scruff or a short beard. He looked pretty beefy in his white t-shirt with his arms folded across his chest. He was a physiotherapist and sports masseur with a string of certificates, references from teams like the Sydney Swans, and reasonable prices. Interestingly, his availability was all outside normal business hours so I assumed the massage work must be a side hustle. I took down his number and phoned him later that night, booking a 90 minute session for the following late afternoon.
I drove to the address he gave me for my appointment; it was obviously residential. I was wearing gym shorts over Aussiebum briefs and a tshirt, but as it was a bit nippy by Sydney standards I also had on my running shoes with trainer socks, a hoodie and a baseball cap. When I rang the bell on the neat single-story 1940's house, Mitch answered wearing a pair of footy shorts and a Sydney Swans training vest, barefoot. He was in his mid-30's, around 6 foot tall and as solidly built as he'd looked in his photo, his balding head either done to a grade zero or shaved with a few day's growth, and a well-trimmed dark brown full beard. He smiled broadly as he shook my hand and invited me in, asking me to leave my shoes in the hall by the door; I toed them off and followed him in my trainer socks. He must have had reverse-cycle aircon fitted as it was nice and warm inside.
We sat on stools by his breakfast bar as he poured us each a glass of water and went through a simple medical questionnaire. It turned out that he was a full-time sports physio for a private clinic and did massage on the side to supplement his income. He asked me about my exercise and workouts, if I had any particular issues, whether I'd ever had a massage before, and so on. He asked me if I needed a shower, but I'd showered before I came. When I talked about my back and thigh aches, he got me to take off my hoodie and tshirt and stand up while he got behind me, prodded and probed my lats and traps and so on, before crouching down to knead and prod my thighs, asking questions as he did. I couldn't help but chub up in my shorts as he explored my muscles, hoping he wouldn't notice. When we were ready I paid him, and he picked up my tshirt and hoodie from the counter and led me through to the verandah out the back which had been glassed in and fitted with blinds, which were down for privacy. There was a massage table, an armchair and a side table with towels and stuff on it. He put my hoodie and tshirt on the armchair.
"Why don't you get undressed, put this big towel around your waist and get comfortable face-down on the table while I get sorted mate."
"OK.... ummm... do I leave my undies on or....?"
"Whatever makes you most comfortable mate, but it would be best to take 'em off so I can get proper access and not worry about getting oil on your undies. Don't worry, you'll be draped with the towel at all times."
Mitch went back to the kitchen while I tugged off my cap and my little socks, dropped my shorts and undies and put my clothes neatly on the armchair with the rest of my gear. I adjusted my junk, wrapped the bathsheet around my waist and got myself into position, face down on the table with my face in the hole at the head end. He came back into the room a couple of minutes later, and I glimpsed his sexy bare feet through the face hole as he moved around the table. Fuck, I really started to worry that I might get an embarrassing issue once this guy got his hands on me! He softened the lights and some quiet, New Age soundscape music came on. "Are you warm enough Dave?" he asked quietly, and I replied that I was. He started to tug at the towel that was wrapped around my waist and I lifted my hips slightly so he could slip it out. Without uncovering my body, he rearranged the bath sheet so it covered me from my neck all the way down and over my feet, then put his hands on the soles of my draped feet and pushed down firmly, then pressed down on my calves, then my thighs, my bum, my lower back, then my upper back and shoulders. Then he folded the towel down to expose my upper body down to the top of my ass crack.
"Remember Dave, tell me if anything hurts, or if you want more or less pressure." I nodded, then felt warm oil trickle onto my back before Mitch started work on my neck, shoulders, back and arms. As the minutes slipped by, I zoned a bit, wondering why the hell I'd never done this before. He alternated between hard, almost painful directed pressure, and firm, smooth, nearly sensual strokes. Honestly, it was awesome, and though he was a sexy dude, my eyes closed and I wasn't thinking dirty thoughts at all... except when, every so often, I was sure I felt his groin pressed against the top of my head when he massaged down my back from the head of the table... but whatever.
After a long while (though it was probably only 20 minutes or so), Mitch moved down to the bottom of the table, keeping one hand gently touching me at all times as he moved. There, he folded the bottom of the towel up to expose my feet and legs, the folded towel now draped over me from an inch down my butt crack to the creases where my thighs met my glutes. His freshly-oiled hands started to work my right foot, the thumbs pressing hard into my soles, his fingers tugging each of my toes until they clicked. Then he worked my right calf, moving up to drive long, firm strokes along my thigh, sweeping around to my inside leg. Those dirty thoughts? They were coming back now as his warm, slippery hands massaged up my leg, closer and closer to my groin, and I couldn't stop the tiny whsipered moans from escaping my lips. Then he folded the towel across so it was only covering my left ass cheek and my right one was fully exposed, before continuing the long, hard strokes up my thigh and into my glute muscle.
After a few minutes of that, Mitch took my right leg, moved it out sideways and bent it at the knee so the sole of my foot was pressed against the knee of my left leg, and he kneeled his left leg on the table and slid forward until the top of his hairy muscled thigh was wedged under the inside of my bent right leg. This raised my pelvis off the table while stretching out my groin and inner thigh, and as he started to massage again his fingers pushed right up into the crease where my inner thigh and groin met; every few strokes, his knuckles ever-so-slightly brushed the side of my shaved scrotum. I had to stifle a gasp, but I couldn't stop my cock from hardening and starting to leak. The manipulation of my body felt "sporty" rather than "sensual", in that it was firm and no-nonsense, but the unexpected increased skin-on-skin action and the presumably accidental fleeting contact with my balls sent confusing signals racing through me. I fought to relax into it, relishing the pleasure while at the same time hoping it would pass and he'd move on to something else before my arousal became blazingly obvious.
Finally, to both my relief and disappontment, he slid his leg out, straightened my leg and gave it a little shake to loosen it out. He re-covered the right butt cheek but folded the other side of the towel to expose the left.... and then repeated the whole process on my left leg and glute. Oh.... my.... fucking.... God, it felt good, and in the end I just relaxed into it, ignoring my aching boner and hoping he didn't notice, working hard not to whimper as his knuckles grazed my balls on the other side.
Finally, that phase over, he spread out the towel, lifted it off my body and said softly "please turn over onto your back now Dave". Oh fuck. My boner. Oh fuck. Oh what the hell, after a moment's hesitation I rolled over, noting that Mitch's eyes were directed dead ahead as though he was professionally avoiding taking a peek. But when he folded the towel so it covered me only from the tops of my thighs to the top of my trimmed bush, the elephant in the room was unavidable because my rigid tool stuck out from under the bathsheet, its head leaking cocksnot.
"Awww mate, sorry about that" I muttered sheepishly. But to my relief, Mitch just smiled and said "Dave, seriously, don't worry about it. Its normal, happens all the time. Just relax and enjoy". He continued to work my legs, right up into the thigh crease, and there was even more "accidental" scrote contact as he worked. He was staring intently up my body, and from where he was he must have had an eyeful as he was working. Eventually moving up to the top of my body, he slipped his hands under my head to massage my neck, then moved down my arms, massaged my palms and clicked my fingers, then started with broad hard strokes across my pecs. Replenishing the warm oil on his hands, he started to stroke down my abs, and I realised with a blend of panic and anticipation that we has getting ever closer to my groin and the rigid cock that poked out from under the towel. Then, with one stroke, his hand slid across my hips and under my engorged penis where it lay against my abs. Then again, and again, until on the backstroke the edge of his hand applied pressure at the base of my cock and it stood straight up, hard and proud. I watched as he pushed the towel off me entirely with one hand and swept his other up in a fluid oiled-up corkscrew motion around my shaft, making me gasp, before he brought his other hand to bear as well and started to fluently, expertly stroke and massage my cock. He had a look of fierce concentration on his face as he worked, illuminated by a gentle, genuine smile when he looked up and caught my eye. I smiled tentatively in response and let out a long sigh as his slippery hands swept over my sensitive leaking glans. He started to stroke me faster as my breathing increased in speed and harshness, and he sent one oiled hand down to massage my balls before sliding behind them to probe for my taint. I instinctively opened my legs wider, and he smiled again and pushed his finger down my crack until it found my asshole, which it started to rub and tease. That was all it took, I gasped, bucked my hips and let out a low cry as my body spasmed in pleasure and jets of cum lashed my chest and abs in half-a-dozen or so spurts. As my orgasm subsided, Mitch reduced the pace but increased the pressure to milk out the last dribbles of seed, then gently massaged my softening cock and greasy scrotum until my shivering stopped.
Smiling, Mitch picked up a roll of kitchen towel and fastitiously wiped all of the cum off me and off his hands, then recovered the towel and unfolded it, covering me from neck to toe. He went to the kitchen and returned with a hot towel which he draped over my eyes and said "rest a bit Dave, I'll be back in a little bit". I probably drifted for a little bit, my mind replaying the delicious sensations I'd just been treated to. Finally, he returned and removed the damp towel from my face. He proceded to wipe down the front of my body - not neglecting my junk - with the now-cool wet towel, then asked me to stand so he could wipe down my back.
"All done Dave", he said smiling, and I returned the smile as I padded naked to the armchair and started to get dressed. "So, how was that mate?" I laughed, "It was amazing Mitch, thanks so much. Do you... ummmmm... normaly end it like that?" He shrugged as he replied, "Sometimes. It really is totally normal to get an erection if you are having a massage; it doesn't happen with all guys, but it does happen. I have to judge whether its just physiology talking or if the guy is into it and would appreciate a 'happy ending'. I don't mind doing it, so its cool. It's just stress relief, right?" he laughed. We chatted for a bit longer, then I awkwardly offered him another 20 by way of a tip, which he graciously accepted. As he showed me out, he said he hoped I'd be back. Yeah, no worries about that.
****
It was a few weeks before I had the cash and the time to book another session. I having gone from a hot shower and the heating on full blast in my car, despite the cool Sydney winter weather I was comfortable wearing gym shorts commando, a sleeveless surfie tshirt and Havaianas on my bare feet; all the easier to get undressed. When he answered the door, smiling, Mitch was wearing really short running shorts with side slits, barefoot, and a loose "Gold's Gym" stringer vest that showed off his broad hairy chest to great effect, his nips slipping out casually as he moved. "G'day mate, nice ta see ya", he grinned as he let me in. I kicked off my thongs just inside his door and followed him barefoot through his house to the kitchen.
As we perched on the stools by his kitchen counter, Mitch asked me if I had any particular issues I wanted him to pay attention to, but I replied in the negative, I just fancied a good massage. "No worries mate, let's crack on then". This time, he stayed in the room with me as I stripped off my vest and dropped my shorts, folding them and putting them on the armchair. I turned to the table, fully naked, my soft cock swinging, and Mitch was just leaning on the massage table, waiting for me.
"Mate, if you are warm enough in here, do you still want a towel or are you cool? I mean..." he smiled and shrugged, leaving it hanging. Yeah, he'd seen it all, so draping me to preserve my modesty seemed stupid. I grinned back at him and replied, "Nah, its cool," then lay face down on the table. This time, he liberally slathered my body with warm oil from neck to toe and shifted style from the theraputic, sports style of my previous session to what he said was more Swedish; long, firm, sensual strokes that swept across my body. When he did the move where he bent my right leg and slipped his own thigh under mine, this time he was deliciously direct as his hands worked up into the crease of my thigh and blatantly rubbed his knuckles against my tight smooth ballsack, eliciting little groans and whimpers of appreciation from me. Just before he released and straightened my right leg, his hand swept under my groin to send one stroke of his oil-slick palm down the underside of my leaking hardon and over my balls. He did the same thing again when he finished working my left leg. Even though I could be a bit dense about this stuff, even I could tell this meant the massage would be a lot more erotic than my first one.
Next, he massaged my right arm, then clicking my fingers one by one and working his thumbs into my palm. He placed my hand palm-up on the table and as he moved to the next stage of the massage, he rested his bulge in my hand as he trickled warm oil over my ass and down my crack. My fingers flexed reflexively and I definitely got a feel of big balls and stiff shaft in those thin runner's shorts, and I kept my fingers gently closed so that, as Mitch moved, he could get some stimulation from my hand if that was what he was really angling for. He started a firm, slow massage of my ass, using a totally different style to the "sports" approach from my first session, the motion tending to make my cheeks part in a way that felt like it was exposing my hairy asshole, which I imagined was glistening with the massage oil that had dripped down my trench. Breathing heavily, I inched my legs wider apart, until I was sure he'd have been able to see my balls and taint if he wanted to. I gasped and sighed then as he deliberately ran the outer edge of his hand from the back of my scrotum, along my perineum and up my slick trench, firmly sliding it over my slippery pucker as he went. As one hand slid out the top of my crack and up my back, the other hand started the same journey. Again and again he performed that action as my hand began to tighten around his silk-covered rigid cock. With each movement, his fingers seemed to linger a little more on my wet anus, until he rested what felt like his thumb pad on my shitter and started to press it firmly, massaging it in small circles. "Ooooohhh fuck," I gasped. "Like that Dave?" Mitch asked softly, and I breathed out "yeah.....".
After doing that for a few more minutes, he swapped to the other side of my body and methodically repeated the entire process. This time however, he paused as he worked and I heard rustling before I felt the warm skin of his bare cock being pressed down into my greased palm. I sighed in appreciation, relieved that the teasing signals were finally giving way to real action, as my fingers closed around his shaft. As he worked my glutes and teased my pucker, he made small movements back and forth with his hips so his cock slowly, gently fucked my tight slick fist. I opened my eyes and peered down through the face-hole to see his silky running shorts pooled around his ankles over his bare feet. As he finished what he was doing, Mitch stepped out of the shorts and moved around to the head of the table, naked from the waist down. He applied more oil and started to do hard two-handed strokes down my back, each stroke ending with him gripping my slippery hairy glutes and spreading them wide apart before sliding back up to my shoulders and starting again. I could feel his junk resting on the back of my head and nudging my man-bun, and I kept my eyes open, ogling his muscular hairy legs and bare feet, as I bought my hands up to firmly caress his thighs and furry bare ass, pulling him in closer.
Finally I decided to make the next move, and tentatively raised my face out of the hole, Mitch's cock sliding down the side of my face as he moved his hips back slightly. His rigid tool was large, maybe eight inches, and so thick, its circumcised head leaking cocksnot just like mine was. I inched forward on the table until my head was over the edge and opened my mouth; Mitch needed no further invitation and slid his cock into my gob until he hit the back of my throat. I gagged a little and he withdrew by a few inches, then I took over, closed my lips and began to suck him firmly and wetly. As I'd moved up the table a little, Mitch had even better accesss to my ass, and now he pushed a well-oiled finger through my tight sphincter and up into my shit-chute, working it in and out as I sucked his thick cock harder and harder. I inched forward even more and bent and spread my legs to make it clear I wanted what he was selling, and Mitch responded by forcing a second finger into my tight cunt and starting a slow, deliberate finger-fuck aimed at loosening my fuckhole in readiness for the warm, hard, thick tube of dudesteak I was starting to anticipate.
Withdrawing his fingers from my hole and his cock from my mouth, Mitch took a step back and pulled off his singlet, revealing his hairy, beefy torso. He gave me a smile and moved down to the foot of the table, slipped his hands under my hips and guided me up and back so I was on all fours. Then he spread my glutes and ran his tongue from my ballsack up over my taint and to my wet cunt several times before focusing his attention on my anus and starting to flick the ring with the pointed tip of his firm wet gob muscle. Holy fuck that felt nice. He started to alternate between teasing flicks and long licks across my hole with the broad flat of his wet tongue, pausing ever so often to spit on my anus. Then he reached under me, firmly gripped my aching cock in his oiled palm and started to stroke it as he forced his tongue through my stubborn ringpiece and up into my chute, tongue-fucking me as he wanked me. Resting the side of my face on the table, I assisted by reaching back to take over holding my asscheeks as wide apart as possible while he ate me out. He really made me whimper when he started to grind his brearded chin over my taint and hole, and he laughed at the sounds I was making before shoving three fat fingers up into my cunt, angling them down to touch my prostate, and begain a rapid finger-bang that had me gasping and moaning in seconds as he at first continued to firmly stroke my slippery cock, then pulled it back between my legs as far as it would go and sucked the first few inches of my meat with his hot wet gob.
"Wanna get fucked Dave?" Mitch asked softly as he worked at opening me up and rubbed my wet glans through his whiskers, and I just muttered "yes please Mitch". He let go of my cock, letting it slap my abs, slipped his fingers out of my ass, and picked up a condom from under a towel on the side table. He climbed up on the massage table behind me, placing his hand on the small of my back and gently pushing me down until I was flat on my front, then he stretched his full length along my body and rested his solid cockmeat in my slippery trench. Gripping my shoulders, he started to fuck his bare cock up and down the hairy wetness of my crack, its underside sliding over my puffy anus and making me sigh. Pushing himself up on one hand, he said "Hold yourself open Dave", and I reached back again to part my cheeks for him. He gripped his tool and pushed the raw leaking glans against my pulsing cunt, teasing the puffy wet tissues, nudging it ever-so-slightly into the ring. He then sat back on his knees, wriggling forward with his legs between mine, his knees spreading my thighs wide. Ripping open the foil wrapper on the condom, he pinched-and-rolled it over his cock, gripping the rim to stretch it all the way down to the base of his shaft, then slathered it with water-based lube. He slid a couple of his lube-slick fingers back up me and rotated his hand repeatedly, making broad circles with his digits, stretching me more and more open all the time. Then I felt that large swollen head of his cock against my hole again, and as it nudged me open he settled his full weight on my back. With the cockhead just spreading my loosened anal ring, he slipped his hairy muscled arms under my throat and upper chest, pulling me close, the movement slowly pushing his pelvis forward and driving his cock up through my chute and into my rectum in one steady, slippery thrust. I moaned so loudly at the intrusion, the sense of strain in my sphincter and the overwhelming fullness in my guts, while he rested on my back and cooed soothingly into my ear. After a minute, he started to fuck me properly, spreading his legs to force mine even further apart as he picked up his pace and filled the verandah with sloppy slapping sounds. I reached up and guided the fingers he'd had up my ass to my lips and started to suck them; "Yeah, you want that?" he whispered into my ear and started to push his fingers deep into my gob as he fucked me.
Then, sliding out of my mancunt, he pushed himself up and sat back on his butt, letting his hands run down my back to my ass as he moved. Spreading my cheeks, he leaned in and spent another couple of minutes hungrilly tonguing my wet open fuckhole, before moving his legs outside of mine so they dangled off the edge of the table. Shuffling forward until he was almost sitting on my butt, he pushed his cock down by the base and slid it back up inside me, leaned forward and gripped my shoulders for leverage and started to fuck some more. Then he withdrew, playfully slapped my ass and said "turn over Dave", which I did, getting my legs over his thighs and around his waist as he sat with his legs hanging. He shoved his cock back up my shit-chute and started to wank my slippery cock in time with his thrusts with one hand and fucking three bunched fingers of his other hand in and out of my slobbering mouth as I played with my own nipples, watched him work and grunted with each prod of my fucknut.
In his sitting position, his thrusting movements were limited, so eventually he slid out of me and off the table, grabbed my thighs and spun me so I was laying on the table cross-ways. He gripped my bare feet and spread my legs wide as I reached down and guided his cock back to my cunt. Now standing, he threw his full muscular power behind a piledriving fuck. I started to wank but he let go of one of my feet, slapped my hand away and took over jerking my tool as he let me have it hard in the ass. There was a minute or so of rough, aggressive fucking and stroking before I bit my forearm to muffle my shout as my body jerked in pleasure and my thick salty goo splattered across my torso and groin as he continued to rapidly fist my cock. As the action on my penis became too intense, he finally slowed down both wanking and fucking, milked the last drizzle of my seed out, and licked it off his hand as he slid out of my well-fucked asshole. He pushed me around until I was lengthways on the table once more, tugged off the condom, spat in his palm and started to wank himself furiously. He reached between my legs and pushed a couple of fingers back into my ass and played around in there while I reached around and stroked his firm hairy bum, until finally he grunted and lashed my torso with his gravy. I dabbled my fingers in it, raised them to my lips and had a taste as he smiled down at me, panting, and leaned in for a brief tongue-kiss. "All OK Dave?" he whispered, and I grinned and nodded.
Mitch helped me off the table and led me to his bathroom, where we shared a hot shower, washing, holding and kissing each other by turns. After we'd dried off and padded back to the verandah, Mitch slipped his shorts back on and made some Jasmine tea in the kitchen while I pulled on my shorts and vest. We chatted and sipped tea for 20 minutes before I tipped him healthily and left.
****
I was a regular of Mitch's for years after that, until I went travelling. If I asked for a "sports massage" and detailed any aches and pains, he'd stay clothed and give me a proper professional session with a happy ending - which now started to include an expert blowjob. If I said I was feeling like a "relaxing" or "stress-relief" massage, Mitch took to getting naked at the same time I did and doing the whole massage in the nude, letting me touch his body and play with his cock as he worked, before giving me a good fucking or, sometimes, climbing up on the table and squatting down on my sheathed cock, riding me until he sprayed his spooge on my chest and I filled the rubber with my gravy. The massage skills I picked up from him would certainly come in handy in future.
As promised, this is a true account of my experiences as I remember them. More to come! I'd love to hear what you think of it, so email me if you want at [email protected]
