Confused

I was hard, stunningly so, fully erect and rampant I suppose you could call it. I was lying on my front being massaged wearing just a pair of paper pants they put on you at the hotel spa. There were some towels covering other parts of my body, but not my legs, which were slick with oil and being massaged. As the hands had slid up my legs going nearer and nearer to my bum and balls, the erection had started. That was embarrassing and awkward. It’s difficult to cope with a growing erection in that position; I had to wiggle a little to move my weight so my cock could go in the direction the hardening demanded, straight up my stomach.
Was I imagining that the hands were massaging me softer? Was the touch gentler, more of a caress than a massage? Had I given myself away? I had no idea and didn’t dare look so I kept my eyes tightly shut even, well especially, when I turned over. The towels were rearranged, lifted up and replaced. The bulge must have been noticeable and presumably noticed in the dark blue, thin paper panties, but nothing was said.
The front of my lower legs were massaged and then the excrutiatingly challenging tops of them. The hands swept upwards time and time again even slipping slightly into the legs of the paper pants. My balls lay there inside them, my cock was reared fiercely right up my stomach; it must be obvious.
They didn’t touch my balls, but they went very close. And of course each time they did, my wandering mind wondered whether they would. Was I wondering or hoping? Surely the spa in the five star hotel didn’t offer more than the massage, even here in Thailand!
The towels were replaced on my legs. The ones on my chest were rolled down. My shoulders, neck, head and upper chest were oiled and treated. I relaxed a little. No obvious advance had been made, nothing overtly suggestive had taken place, no request or invitation for anything other than the aromatic massage promised in the hotel brochure had been extended. I softened, a little.
A warm towel was laid across my upper chest, it felt nice. The one across my lower chest and waist was removed.
‘Oh fuck’ I thought I’m going to have my waist and stomach massaged.’ I was absolutely correct.
I didn’t know how far the towel lying across my upper legs and stomach reached, I didn’t know what was covered and, more importantly, what wasn’t.
The hands and oil were on my waist, near my navel. They were reaching round either side finding and massaging the slight love handles on my forty five year, fairly fit and toned body. They went down a little further, on my stomach beneath my waist, just inside the pants.
Shit they almost touched it, they almost felt my cock. Luckily, they were concentrating on either side of my stomach around the protruding pelvic bones. They moved from side to side. From the left side of my body that was towards the hands to the side that was away from it. They reached across me and they brushed it. ‘Maybe it was an accident?’ I hoped as my body jerked and a whoosh of air escaped from my lips. I closed my eyes even tighter, I couldn’t look I didn’t want to see what was happening.
They moved back across my body and massaged that side for a while then stopped. And then, as they moved to the other side they brushed my erection again.
‘Surely that wasn’t an accident too?’
I grunted.
They finished massaging around my right pelvic bone and then stopped. This time there could be no mistake for they didn’t brush my erection, they rested on it. Only for a moment or two, but without doubt they paused there before carrying on.
The sensations were exquisite and my reactions were instant and very evident. My head rolled to one side, my mouth came open, my torso squirmed a little and I let out a clear, but low groan which must have been obvious as a groan of pleasure. The fingers or hand returned and this time it was far more than a brushing, much more than just resting on it and certainly significantly more than a slight touch. The fingers ran up and then down the length of my erection twice outside the paper pants. It was a very overt gesture. An invitation or maybe a request. They had set out their stall, it was now down to me, the ball was in my court. I could move and they would presumably go away and no harm would be done. We could both ignore what had happened. Or I could stay still and invite the hands to go further.
I was in a quandary, a conflict a confusion. Move or stay? Stop or go? Illicit pleasure or a moral stand?
In the end, the decision was by default. I was still pondering, but the fingers must have assumed that my lack or reaction was acceptance and compliance; they presumably felt that I was accepting their invitation. Whilst one set of fingers remained resting on my erection the other took hold of the paper pants and slowly ripped them. They tore the panties, they opened them up and they revealed my stunningly hard erection. There was no hesitation now for they were quickly wrapped round it. I pushed back against the fingers, I gave them my clear acceptance, my desire, my want for them to jack me off.
There was no waiting now. Other that is, than to pour some warm oil onto my cock before starting to pump it in slow, long movements. It felt absolutely fantastic.
I didn’t last long, I knew I wouldn’t or couldn’t so it was just a few moments later that I exploded and my sperm gushed all over the pleasure giving hand and my stomach. It was over quickly.
I opened my eyes and took the damp, warm flannel that was being held out for me.
“Was that to mister’s satisfaction?” The young, Thai, male masseur asked me?

++

I hadn’t seen my wife get dressed for dinner, so I was very pleasantly surprised
to see the thong she was wearing when we got back to our room later that evening.
I had opened the door to the room for her and followed her in. We were on the tenth floor of one of the top hotels in Bangkok with the city sprawled out beneath us. Some light was coming in through the windows so I didn’t switch the room lights on as we wandered over to the ceiling to floor windows to take in the view.
She was slightly in front of me.
“Will you darling?” She asked indicating that she wanted me to undo the hook and eye on the back of the halter neck of her silk dress. It was fairly tight and showed obviously to me that she was not wearing a bra. Her nicely shaped B cup breasts were still pert enough in her forty second year for her to dispense with any support when the situation called for it. As the back of the dress plunged daringly low down her slender back, this was just one of those situations.
I undid it. She looked over her shoulder at me, shrugged her body and the dress slithered downwards into a pool of silk round her feet, which were clad in elegant, silver, high heeled sandals.
She looked fabulous. She was tanned all over, well the bits I could see and that was most, her boobs sat up well, her pronounced, clearly erect nipples stood out, her long, slender, shapely legs seemed to be waiting to wrap themselves round me and her bum, oh fuck her bum! Kel has the bum of every man’s dreams, especially his wet ones. It is full and round, with firm cheeks that wobble beautifully as she moves giving her the sexiest wiggle possible. It sticks out some way and has a deep, mysterious crease between the gorgeous cheeks. I have heard such bums as hers referred to as ‘a black girl’s bum!’
I have often wondered whether the sensitivity of her bum and the willingness she has to offer it to me for our mutual pleasure is due to it being so shapely and exciting, or whether it’s the other way round; what is the chicken and what’s the egg?
Tonight, in the lacy thong that was a mere smidgeon of material at the front covering her landing strip of pale brown pubes and a slither of lace plunging between her cheeks, it looked especially inviting.
“Turn round and lean against the window,” I croaked undoing my belt and zip and losing my trousers.
“Mmmm it did the trick then,” she said, running her hand over my erection inside the silk boxers she’d had made for me in Hong Kong.
“It?” I asked, slipping my shirt off as Kelly pushed the boxers down.
“My thong?” She smiled stroking my cock.
“Of course, but then so did this,” I said grabbing her bum and twisting her round. She put her hands out and supported herself against the window. Her gorgeous arse was sticking out.
“Remind me,” I whispered kneeling behind her “Have I ever told you what a great arse you have?”
“Mmmmm, once or twice I seem to recall,” she sighed as I pulled her cheeks apart. Whilst the round fullness of her near perfect cheeks make for a beautifully deep crevice between them, they are pliable enough that when pulled apart her actual hole is easily accessible. And tonight I accessed it with ease.
Pulling the thong to one side, I licked along the length of the crease, from the base of her spine to the meeting of her pussy lips passing over her anus in the process. As I licked her, so I squeezed and pinched her bum and ran a hand round the front and found her clit. She was moving slightly and pushing back against my tongue as it now probed right on that puckered entrance.
“Fuck yes, James. Go on,” she grunted.
I curled my tongue making it firmer and pointed and pressed hard on the hole. I can never get it in far, but far enough to pleasure her and to excite me. And so it was now.
“Oh yes,” she groaned, moving one hand from the window I noticed and pinching her nipple.
I probed and pushed and she wiggled and pushed back.
“Now fuck me, come on fuck me, now,” she moaned.
I stood up and pressed my cock in the crease of her arse as I reached round her and grabbed both of her small, pert tits.
“Here? You want it here?”
“No just fuck me properly tonight.”
“Fuck you where Kel”?
“Up my cunt, fuck my cunt baby.”
I was quickly and easily up my wife and was fucking her with long deep thrusts.
It was a surreal situation. She was leaning against the floor to ceiling window and we were both looking out of Bangkok as we made love. What a sight we would have been if our room was brighter.
“Shall I turn the lights up and give me Bangkok, a real show?” I asked.
“No stop sodding around and just fuck me.”
I usually find it best to do what my wife says, so I did just that and fucked her.

++

For the rest of the holiday ‘my gay incident,’ as I thought of it, kept popping into my mind. I was confused. I had never consciously had a gay thought and certainly no gay experiences before in my life. I’d been married for nearly twenty years and, in the main the sex with Kelly was fine. I had strayed now and then, well quite a lot really, but I did travel frequently and with the tortuous, male logic on fidelity that sort of made it ok. So I had the occasional hooker, higher class of course, usually arranged through the hotel concierge, visited a massage parlour now and then and when really lucky I met a fellow travelling lady who was as up for a one nighter as I was. They were rare though, so most of my sex when travelling was self relief. Pleasant, but lonely.
I had never, though, been tempted towards anything with my own sex, so why the fucking hell had I let the Thai kid jerk me off?
Back in the UK after the holiday things got back to normal. Kelly and I had sex three or four times a week and overall that was satisfying. I put the Thai boy into a recess of my mind.
Then, fuck it, I was standing outside a newsagents sheltering from the rain under their canopy and I looked at the notices in the window. It seemed to leap out at me ‘Male Massage’ it said. ‘Discrete, personal, intimate and friendly’ it went on adding ‘Ideal for newcomers, give me a call to discuss your particular needs. Peter 01652876824′
I could hardly believe that I then put the number into my phone. I didn’t call it though, well not for a few days. But then the old curiosity and cat thing came into play.
“Hello, Peter here, how can I help?’ A surprisingly strong voice said down the phone after I had called the number.
“Er oh hi, er um, I saw your ad in a newsagents.”
“Oh yes and would you like more details?”
“Yes, yes I would please.”
He told me that it was a complete service in a quiet discrete, clean flat.
“You get a full body massage and whatever else you want can be discussed. Is that what you were looking for?”
I told him that it was and we agreed that I would visit him the next day at three in the afternoon. My thinking was that would give me long enough to change my mind; all afternoon, evening all night and tomorrow morning.
It was an anguishing time.
‘I’ll go, no I won’t.’
‘It’s just the buzz, no its not you’re going mad.’
‘Am I gay, am I changing?”
I fucked my wife twice between making the appointment and three the next day. They were good fucks, with lots of foreplay, including oral from both of us, she has a great mouth as well does Kelly. As I was making love to her I was totally convinced thet Peter was history
But sod it, at three the next afternoon I was ringing the doorbell of his flat in a neat, modern fairly upmarket block of flats.
“You must be James,” A well built, good looking guy dressed in a white track suit said as he opened the door.
“Yes, yes I am, and you’re Peter?”
“I am, come on in.”
Inside the flat was very clean and modern and that made me feel comfortable.
“So James, you’re pretty new to all this are you?” He said after leading me into a well appointed lounge.
I had told him on the phone that my visit to him would be my first male massage.
“Er yes I am, it’s my first time.”
“Yes you said that, would you like a drink, maybe a Scotch or a glass of wine?”
“That would be lovely thanks, a red wine would be great.”
He opened a bottle of Brouilly and poured two glasses.
“Cheers,” he said touching his glass to mine “Here’s to a great first massage.”
I smiled. “Well I’ve had massages before but mainly from women.”
“Mainly?”
“Yes, but I had a male massage in Thailand recently.”
“Interesting, enjoy it?”
“Well yes and I suppose that’s why I’m here,” I told him finishing my wine.
Well we’d better see if we can compete with Thailand hadn’t we? Ready?”
“Yes of course.”
He took me into one of the bedrooms which had been turned a salon. There was a sideboard with piles of towels, talcum powders, oils, tissues and sweet smelling candles burning. In one corner a shower had been built in and in the middle of the room was a high massage table.
“I’ll leave you to get ready shall I?” Peter said exiting from the room as he said “You can put your things over there,” pointing to a little alcove.
I wasn’t sure what I should do so I undressed down to my boxers leaned against the side of the massage table and waited. He came back a few minutes later and I saw that he had removed his white tracj suit top and was wearing a tight, white singlet. He had muscular arms, what looked to be a good physique and a fairly hairy chest.
“OK James ready to go?” In a warm and pleasant manner as he smiled at me.
“Yes, sure how do er, um?”
“How do I want you? Are you asking,?” he said smiling broadly and making me feel relaxed. “Well let’s say on your front on the table.”
I went to climb up.
“With or without the boxers,” he remarked casually adding “I do use oil and that can run a bit.”
“Best off then?” I asked probably sounding far more confident that I sounded.
“Your choice James, but I would say so.”
He discretely turned away as I slipped them off and lay down on the bed, my head resting on my arms, my eyes closed. He took hold of my wrists and put my arms alongside my body, opened my legs a little and lifted my feet up a few inches and placed a towel or something there to keep them raised.
I felt that lovely feeling as he poured some warm oil onto my back and he began to massage me, quite firmly actually. Momentarily I forgot the main purpose of the massage, which I assumed, but hadn’t actually confirmed, was masturbation and simply enjoyed the deep, probing of his obviously quite knowledgeable fingers.
“Ok James, not too hard is it?” He asked fis finger delving deeply into the muscels across my shoulderts.
“No it’s fine, I like it like this.”
“Great.”
He continued massaging my back and around my waist, which was fine. But then he reminded me what this was all about by squeezing and probing each of my cheeks in turn. That felt good, but began to excite and worry me, particularly when he trailed his fingertips along the crease between them. I had no idea how far he would want to go or, more importantly would want me to go. I also started to get aroused. I wiggled a bit to take the weight off my hardening cock. I hoped he wouldn’t notice, but thought that being an experienced male masseur that he probably would.
He started on my legs covering: the soles of my feet, my ankles and calfs. Either side in turn, then the back of my knees. The lower part of my upper legs, the insides of my opened legs. I was beginning to get hot as he went nearer and nearer where I now realised I wanted them to be. Further and further up my legs. Up and up closer to my balls, my arse and that wonderfully sensitive patch of skin between them. He was good, bloody good. Just enough of a tease to arouse me, but not so much that I got frustrated. But then he didn’t have to worry about being rejected did he?
He let his fingertips go all the way. Right up to the top, right up to where my balls were laying waiting for him.
“Oh shit,” I grunted as I felt that glorious feeling of a nail gently scratching across the back of my scrotum. I squirmed on the table, I opened my legs wider and raised one thus levering the left side of my body, just by my hip off the bed. His fingertips stroked me on that sensitive patch behind my balls. I lifted myself up a bit.
I was so getting into this that I forgot that he was a man. I forgot that this was a gay massage. Gender didn’t seem to have a meaning or a point. I had a naked body, I was aroused, I wanted sex. He had sensitive and knowledgeable fingers, he knew how to excite me, he knew precisely what to do and he was prepared to give me the sex I wanted. Yes we were both men, but then we weren’t. He was a sex provider, a reliever, a person that knew how to sexually satisfy another person. And he did that in a way that made it totally irrelevant that we were both male. I am sure that had I have been a woman he would had precisely the same sexual affect on me then as he did now with me being a man.
His hands went to my side again and his fingertips slid down my body, inside my hip just grazing the tip of my immensely hardened cock.
“Oh yes,” I grunted, the intensity of the feeling being so strong.
He got the message and slid his hands further under my body, stroking the length of my cock?”
“Nice?”
“Yes it’s fucking fantastic,” I groaned as his hand closed round my cock. I thrust it at him.
It was then that it registered with me that this was the first male hand that had held my cock since I was about eleven years old and we all used to sod around as we tried to cope with the demands of puberty.
He took it away, though, and returned to my legs, well not really my legs, but the top of them, in fact my balls, that patch of skin between them and my bum and, the crease of my arse. He touched me everywhere round there, caressing, rubbing and stroking me. It was simply the most exquisitely sexual feelings I had ever experienced.
I was moaning, grunting and sighing. I was writhing my body and lifting myself off the bed. I was talking.
“Oh yes.”
“Oh fuck.”
“That’s fucking amazing,” and the like.
I was so into him and his hands that all thoughts of everything other than what he was doing to me ceased to exist. And what he was doing was amazing.
I had been to massage parlours many times when girls would do similar things to this. To my horror, in some ways, I realised the intensity of the feelings they had given me palled into almost insignificance with those that Peter was providing.
“You seem to be enjoying it,” he whispered slipping one hand under my chest and the other up my body from between my legs. One hand cupped and squeezed my tit and nipple, the other my cock and balls. I started to slowly fuck his hand. Where all this bravado and confidence had come from I had no idea?
“Maybe you should turn over now?” He said quietly.
I was happy to do so, I wanted to flaunt myself at him, I wanted him to see my cock as well as feel it. I turned myself over and gulped when I saw him. Unbeknown to me he had removed his tracky trousers and was wearing one of those supports that athletes wear, a crude thong really.
“Oh my God,” slipped from my lips as I cast my eyes up and down his body and on the what looked to be huge bulge in the jock strap.
It’s so hard to describe what I felt. Had I have turned over and seen a girl in a thong I would say she’s beautiful, she’s got a good body, great tits or fantastic legs. I would acknowledge her looks and sexiness and would, of course, want to fuck her. I didn’t feel that when I looked at Peter. All I felt was sex. All I saw was a vehicle for sex, a conduit for the provision of it. I didn’t see him as being beautiful and I didn’t want to fuck him or have him fuck me. It was so different, almost indescribable from hetero stuff. Different and indescribable, but hugely arousing.
“Let’s do your chest shall we?” He asked moving behind my head, leaning over me and pouring some oil right between my two flat boobs. He oozed that outwards, up and down my chest and then started to massage me. Not as hard as he had done on my back, but not as soft as he had between my legs.
It was a strange situation for as he leaned forward to massage further down my chest, so his bulge would press against the back of my head. I had never had a cock caress my head before!
Also, as he eased his hands downward from my shoulders, past my collar bones, over, after lingering on, my manboobs and nipples, onto my lower chest and then my waist so I yearned for his hand to continue further and grab my cock.
I had lost all of my inhibitions now. I was beyond being embarrassed or worried about what he thought. After all, I was lying naked and erect on his massage table as he attended to me dressed in just a jock strap and singlet. He had played with my cock, ran his fingers through the crease of my bum and he had stroked my balls. He had taken me to a level of arousal and excitement that matched anything I’d had with a woman and there was clearly more to come. What the fuck had inhibitions or embarrassment got to do with anything? And come to that, I was thinking as his fingertips did brush against the tip of my cock, what has man, woman, gay, straight or whatever sexuality got to do with anything? This was pure sex. It was totally irrelevant that we happened to be two men. Cast your social, macho and religious pre-conceptions to one side and it comes down to the erect cock of the one needing relief and the hands or whatever of the one about to provide.
“Oh fuck yes,” I groaned squirming and shuddering as both of his hands ran down and then up the length of my cock.
“You ready?” He whispered in a fairly tight voice as his hands left my cock and he moved alongside the bed resting his hand on my waist just millimetres from my cock, which seemed to be pulsating.
“Yes,” I groaned.
“Anything special?”
“No, oh I don’t know. Just make me cum, please make me cum,” I sighed.
“Ok James,” he said softly turning away and going over to the table containing his oils and other stuff.
“A little oil?” He asked looking over his shoulder at me.
“Yes whatever,” I replied/
He turned and looked at me and then totally surprised me. Without breaking our gaze, he slid his hands inside the wide waistband of the jock strap and pushed it down until it was round his ankles. Stepping out of it he came back to the side of the bed his big, supremely hard cock seeming to lead the way.
‘Was he expecting to fuck me? Did he want me to suck it? Was I supposed to want to fuck him? Should I grab his cock or simply do nothing?’
I had no answer to these thoughts as he stood beside me and poured some oil onto my cock. He let it dribble down and off my erection onto my balls and stomach as he put his hands under my knees. He lifted them and pulled my legs apart. I was lying on my back, as hard as I had ever been with my knees raised and legs open with oil seeping down into the crease of my bum. It felt absolutely fucking amazing.
His fingers returned and oozed all over my cock, balls, stomach, between my legs and into the crease of my arse. I was moaning, groaning, sighing and squirming as he played me like a puppet master plays his dolls, but then I was his doll, I suppose..
He wrapped one set of fingers round my cock that was now throbbing and aching due to its hardness and brushed the others along the crease of bum, which due to my position was open. So intense were the feelings that my entire body shuddered. He stroked me in both places at the same time presumably watching and maybe enjoying my writhing, squirming body and deep moans and groans. I was totally gone now and enjoying this gay experience so much that all rational thoughts left me. All I wanted was more of him, more from him, more of what he was doing and more of what I knew he could do.
My head was rolling from side to side, my mouth was open and I was intermittently opening and shutting my eyes. I didn’t want to catch his gaze, I didn’t want eye contact, that was far too personal and, for sure I didn’t want him kissing me or using his mouth on my body, that would be too intimate. But I couldn’t stop myself from looking at his body in the short, tight singlet and jock strap. Why? Was it attractive? Was it appealing? I don’t think so, but it exemplified what I was after and what I most wanted sex. Ok sex of a different type to usual, but nowadays what’s usual? It and he reeked of sex, true it was male to male sex, but the end result is the same as that with a woman, satisfaction, and the way he was stroking my cock that would not be far away.
He saw me looking and our gazes did catch. He smiled slightly as he said.
“Ok?”
I grinned back as his fingers slid along the crease of my bum and one pressed right on my hole.
“Fucking marvellous,” I moaned.
“Good,” he said quietly moving his hand from my hardon and slipping it into the wide elastic waist of the jock strap. He went to pull it down and then stopped as he looked at me with half of his long, thick cock sticking out of it. “Yes?” He asked.
“Oh fuck yes,” I moaned without thinking as I watched him push it down and saw his awesome cock leap out. He was slightly, but no means fully hard, but he was big; in other circumstances I might have felt inadequate!
Not since I was a kid had I been so up close and personal to a guy’s hard cock. It was so sexual and as his hands returned to my cock and arse so with a groan I reached out and grabbed it with both hands.
“Mmmmm,” slid from his mouth as I rubbed it.
In the state I was in emotionally and sexually and with an almost total lack of inhibitions, it felt fucking amazing.
But it was becoming far too much for me. My mind and body were hurtling concurrently to the same ends, a mind blowing orgasm of awesome proportions.
“Oh fucking hell yes,” I moaned arching my back, pushing myself harder into his grip and holding onto his semi-hardness as my cock exploded.

++

That episode with Peter frightened me. Everything had been so stimulating and all that we did had such a powerful effect on me. Me undressing in front of him, his eyes on my cock, the feelings of his hands on my body, the light touches on my balls, between my legs and on my bum crease, me on my back almost, no not almost if I’m honest totally, flaunting my rampant nakedness at him and, of course holding his slightly swollen cock and him making me cum.
As, over the next few days, I thought about it I worried about myself and my sexuality. I was very relieved, though, to feel just as attracted to Kel and the other women I came in contact with over the next week or so. I had made a point of shagging Kelly that night after my time with Peter and it was as good as it usually is with her. We had sex the next few nights as well and as I fucked her, I did think of her and not a man. It was as if that afternoon had hardly happened or was a total interlude, just as the one with the Thai boy had been.
Whether it was really an effort to convince myself that I wasn’t gay, or whether I just felt horny and wanted something different, I went to a massage parlour; laughingly I thought of it a straight one!
After she’d gone through the ritual ‘pretend she knew what massage was about’ and had started on my legs doing the normal ‘getting nearer and nearer to my balls’ bit, I hardened quite nicely. She played with me in the same places that Peter had and it did the trick. My erection grew to its fullest and I was ready for sex. If I’m honest, I would have to say that the Latvian blonde didn’t actually excite me as much as Peter had, but that may well have been due to him being a more adept masseur than me having gay tendencies. It was also probably due to the fact he put more into it than she did. Nevertheless, after I had turned over and she had, in a rather desultory manner, massaged my chest for all of what, three minutes and had then run her fingers along my cock, we did have a good fuck. Something that I had no inclination towards with Peter, either way.
So, I realised, I can enjoy both. Hmmm am I bi? And if I am so what?
I thought about that quite a lot and sort of rationalised that being bi, for I concluded that I had to be, was a state of mind that’s all. It didn’t mean I fancied men, or looked at a guy and wondered what he would be like undressed as I did women. It didn’t mean that I wanted to kiss, cuddle or hold or be held by men as I did with women. It didn’t mean that I wanted a man’s body pressed against mine as I loved having a woman’s against me. Most importantly, I had no feelings of wanting to be fucked or wanting to fuck a man. No, I purely wanted the buzz, the excitement, the difference I suppose of something new. After all, having been sexually active and sexually adventurous as well as sexually unfaithful for getting on for twenty five years, something new was like a fresh of breath air.
A month or so later I found myself phoning Peter and making another appointment. Although I hadn’t yearned for a male massage at all during that time, something slowly came over me that prompted me to call him. I sort of related that to what I had read about serial killers. They go ages without having the need to kill, then suddenly they have that urge. Just like me and sex with a guy.
After making the call and waiting until the next day I found that I became increasingly excited about the massage. The anticipation was acute and the expectancy was so extreme that I could hardly wait to get home to fuck Kel to rid myself of the sexual excitement.
“That’s it just a little,” he said as he pulled on my hip bone indicating that I should raise myself up a bit. I was still lying on my front.
He was standing to the left side of the massage table. He slid his left hand under me and wrapped his fingers round my cock. His warm, oily grip was so similar to a cunt that my natural male instincts took over and I started to fuck it. I was thrusting in and out of the surrogate pussy in slow movements when I felt the fingers on his other hand slithering up and down the crease of my bum, which was open a bit due to my semi-kneeling position, open leg position.
A finger, probably his middle one, came to rest quite quickly; it found the place it had been searching for, the place where it was welcome, the place where, I realised, it was wanted. Yes Peter was pressing his finger enquiringly right on my arsehole. He had the good grace and diplomacy to simply put pressure on the outside of it and made no effort to enter it; that decision was clearly left to me.
As with many men, I have something of an anal fixation, well that’s in addition to general bum, legs, tits and pussy fixations as well! I love playing with a girl’s arse and I love them playing with mine. Kelly isn’t that keen on anal sex, the full cock penetration type I mean, but she loves everything else, tongue, lips and fingers and she gives as much as she takes.
So Peter was by no means entering virgin territory when, after I groaned, wiggled my bum and thrust harder into his hand, he slid his finger up my arse.
The combination of the sheer excitement of the outrageous nature of having a guy’s finger up my bum, the extreme sensations that gave me as he stimulated my prostate and the feelings on my cock as I fucked the pretend cunt, and at no time was that a pretend arse thankfully, were unbelievable.
“Sorry about the mess on the towel,” I said as I got off the table.
“No problem as long as you enjoyed it,” he replied.