Before I could think about it, he hopped up and was again standing next to the table. He began to knead my muscles again. Everything he did on one side of my body he repeated on the other. He paid special attention to my hands, picking them up and rubbing my palms, pulling on each finger, then setting them down and running his palms across them, even interlacing his fingers so that for a moment it made me think of lovers standing in the sunlight. I was drifting a bit; relaxing finally. And yet, I was incredibly turned on. I felt as though I was on a tightrope between the two states.
Slipping his hand between my legs, he reached under me and pulled my cock down between my legs. Automatically, I lifted my hips to give him better access. With one hand, he stroked my dick, with the other he teasingly caressed and pinched my balls.
Being completely passive is not natural to me. It was a struggle to give myself over to someone. I wanted to roll over and grab him, pull him close. But I wasn’t sure if that was acceptable behavior, so I forced myself to let him decide what would be pleasurable, how things would happen, when things would happen...as difficult as that was for me, it was an amazing feeling. My dick grew harder by the second.
I could feel his semi-hard cock dragging along the table next to my hand. I reached out and took hold of it. I pulled on it a few times, and it sprang to life. It felt as impressive as it had looked in his photo. I rubbed a finger over its large mushroom head. Then, Eddie moved to the top of the table. Reluctantly, I let his prick fall out of my hand.
Through the headrest, I could see Eddie’s feet on the floor. They were well manicured and had a tan line from the flip-flops he’d probably worn all summer. He rubbed my back, beginning at the shoulders and with long strokes pushing all the way down to my buttocks. I could feel his growing erection press against the top of my head. I lifted my head and took his cock in my mouth. Eddie stopped stroking my back. I reached up and cupped his balls in one hand as I bobbed my head up and down on him.
He let out a muffled, “Yeah, that’s it.”
The conflict I’d felt was gone. I wasn’t lying there passively any longer. I ran my tongue from this base of his stalk up to the head. I popped the top of his prick in and out of my mouth until I could feel it thickening even more. My neck quickly grew sore, bent the way it was. But I was enjoying sucking his cock too much to change position.
I’d begun to wonder how long it might take to make him come when he said, “Turn over, please.”
I didn’t really want to, but he was the masseur. He was in charge. A little frustrated, I dropped his dick from my mouth and reluctantly flipped over. My cock was hard, the tip poking at my belly button.
Eddie moved down the table. He began to work my thighs, running his hands up and down them. Teasingly, letting his hands dip between my legs, brushing against my ball sac and then floating away. He ran his hands up and down my thigh again, this time they fluttered over my cock and down my other thigh. I gasped a little. He chuckled softly.
He continued to run his hands over me again and again. It felt like waves caressing me, like the ocean getting me off. I lifted my hips to meet him the next time he came up. Gently, he pushed me back down to the table. I tried to relax as he slowly began to pump my cock. I bent a little to the left, and he adjusted his arm so that he could easily follow my natural curve without tugging or pulling at me. He began to increase his speed.
I placed my hand on the dip at the top of Eddie’s ass, my fingers resting in the crack. He picked up his pace, and suddenly I was coming -- jizz spilling out of me all over Eddie’s fist. He kept jacking me until I shuddered and reached down to stop him.
He stood next to me for a moment, then walked out of the room. I heard the water run in my bathroom. A few moments later, he came back with a damp towel. He wiped off my dick and my belly. When I was clean, I sat up but he put a hand in the middle of my chest.
“Your hour isn’t over. I am not finished.”
For another twenty minutes, he expertly massaged my muscles, leaving me feeling loose and rubbery. I wondered if I should offer to help him get off. In other situations, where cash did not exchange hands, it would be rude not to offer. But Eddie might have other clients that day. He might not want to get off, since it could make getting hard difficult or unpleasant later on.
When he was finally done, he asked, “Relaxed?”
“Very,” I replied.
While he took down the table, I put on my fancy underwear and took seven twenties, plus another as a tip, out of my pocket. I handed the money to Eddie. He stepped forward and hugged me. With a smile, he picked up his portable table and was ready to leave. There didn’t seem to be anything to say, so I walked him to the door.
“Thank you,” I said, as though he were a plumber who’d just fixed a drain.
“It was my pleasure.”
After I shut the door, I realized I had a smile on my face. I was pleased
