RUB IT - Part 2

RUB IT - Part 2 of 3

I used my elbow to heave myself over, which wasn't easy on the narrow table. I jerked onto my back and my cock slapped noisily against my belly, just as Bob turned back to me. "Sorry!" I said, regretting, as I lay my head back, that I hadn't had chance to check out the status of the front of his shorts.

"It's all right" he chuckled. "It usually happens, don't worry." His hands hissed and squeaked as the new oil was spread about by stroking them together.

I felt a wet trickle of my own lubrication kiss my belly and I carelessly stroked my hand and darted it away when it met a substantial layer of pre-cum on my belly. I put my hands to my side and surrendered my exposed arousal to his eyes. Would his hands massage my hard length? Could I summon up the courage to ask him to do so?

His hands lifted up my left arm and worked over it up to my shoulder which he kneaded firmly. Next the right. A delicious contact, but all I could think about was a desired contact lower down my body. I felt I would burst if he did not service my arousal. How could I ask him to do it?

If I were that woman downstairs, I little doubted his fingers would service her and maybe more than his fingers!

He let my arms fall and his hands went to work gently on the thin layer of skin on my chest. I lifted my right hand up under the back of my head and parted my legs slightly in delicious relaxation.

With him standing by the side of the massage table alongside my chest, I took the opportunity to loll my head to one side and checked him out. His white vest clung to his sweaty chest. His arms glistened and the front of his white shorts had gone slightly grey with sweat.

Disappointingly his package seemed unchanged. His balls were griped by the gusset of his shorts, one either side, in slack scrotum mode. But the mound above was manly but unaroused.

"Take your vest off if it is too warm." I said, my voice huskier than normal.

"It is warm." He agreed. "Is it a comfortable temperature for you?"

"Lovely!" I sighed as the palms of his hands stroked over my nipples.

"So long as you don't mind?" He said.

"I don't mind, go ahead."

His hands left my chest and hooked into the edge of his vest and lifted it up his chest.

I almost gasped out loud at the revelation of his smooth, ripped abs and his curvy pecs. I bit my lip as his arms were raised and his armpits revealed his dark, sweaty hair. Two tufts in each armpit with a sexy, smooth hairless gap right in the creased fold of his shoulders.

Over his head, he ripped his vest with that over-effort that muscular men seemed to exert.

He hung the vest on the shelving. His back was muscular and tapered to his waist deliciously. His shorts gripped his buttocks as if they wanted to burst out.

I wanted to suggest he ripped them off too, but didn't have the courage. This, no matter how exciting, was a straight massage, no sex involved and I feared such a suggestion would be inappropriate and could rapidly end the massage. I preferred the eroticism of this situation, even if it did not fully satisfy me.

He lubed up his hands again and stepped back to the table. I felt gloriously exposed to his professional gaze. Hand behind my head, armpit exposed, my chest rising and falling, my almost fully hard cock lolling, wetly on my belly and my legs parted.

Bob returned to massaging my chest, quite gently as if just invigorating the blood flow under my skin. My blood was flowing manfully in my hard shaft, while, head propped up I delighted in watching his muscular upper torso and his powerful arms.

His manly, dark beard shadow glistened grey. His upper arms were devoid of hair and his manly forearms glistened, sticking his dark hairs to his skin. He was getting quite a workout on me!

His chest, oh his chest! How I wished to run my own fingers over his smooth, suntanned skin just as his were running over mine.

I held my breath as his hands worked slowly down my upper stomach. What would he do when he got to my erection? The pressure of his palms increased as he left my ribcage and pressed my flesh.

Disappointingly his fingers slid around my sides and down to my hips. It felt strangely submissive to have his strong hands hold and press me around my hips, as if he was gripping vice-like, my pelvic area and my masculine zone.

I felt my hard dick swing around my belly while my stud rocked my body. It felt like I was rogering some delightful guy, but, in fact, all I was fucking was the air.

Bob lifted off his right hand while gently resting the fingers of his left on my right hip in order to maintain physical contact.

He reached for the oil and dribbled some warm drops onto my left thigh. The trickle was deeply sensuous. He put both big hands on my left thigh and pressed upwards to the top. His fingertips just tickled the side of my left testicle. My body rocked gently as he pressed up and down, forcing ripples of my flesh ahead of his motion.

I closed my eyes and put my hand to my side, to enjoy the sightless massage. Down my leg he squeezed and pressed. Over my calf and down to my foot for another delightful rub of my toes.

Drip, drip on my right thigh and his massage was repeated, his fingers again tickling my right testicle. I drifted off into some deep relaxation. Aroused but relaxed, as if this massage were some sort of tantric meditation.

Now one hand on each calf, he ran his hands up each leg, with him positioned between my feet again. His forearms were gliding up my shins as his hands went over my knees  and up my thighs with little circular motions of his fingers.

My relaxed state had caused my cock to soften and as his left hand fingers went up my upper thigh, he gently lifted my soft length away and down over my balls, so that he could massage where my prick had laid.

I gave an involuntary gasp of an intake of air, at the feel of him touching me so delicately. Now his hands were massaging my belly and sliding through the layer of my pre-cum, mixing it delightfully with the oil.

Of course my cock rose and in flicks, jutted its way up into the air. His forearms and elbows were sliding gently up and down my thighs and I longed for his fingers to slip downwards and take up my dick for the final, ultimate massage.

Down his fingers slipped towards my desired target which was swinging up off my belly, swaying in the air with his motions. His hands circled around where my cock swung and slid down the crease between my pelvis and thighs.

"Argh!" I sighed when his fingertips touched the outsides of my ball-sack. They slid below and I relaxed and parted my legs a little more to give his probing digit access to the magic spot between my balls and my arse-hole. He massaged the soft area of flesh.

Boy! Bob was thorough! His tickling, rotating fingers slipped up and briefly, over my balls.

"Oh!" I sighed. His fingers were pressing over my pelvis. "There's only one place left to massage." I said as my cock flopped upwards onto my belly, rock-hard.

"Not part of the service, sir!" Bob's sonorous voice said good-humouredly.

"Pity." I said and Bob's hands withdrew their contact.

I opened my eyes and Bob's back was turned to me. His large buns were stretching his shorts and I wondered if an erection around the front was making them tighter.

As I got off the table, I said, "I realise you are not into doing me. But I can do you if you want." My heart was beating in my chest, like a scared rabbit.

Part 3 to follow....

Another Free Story - Rub It!

Rub It

I headed for the neighbourhood gym.

"Can anyone do a sports massage?" I asked the cute guy on reception, hoping it was him who gave them. His short-cropped hair made me want to run my fingers through the stubble. I enjoyed the mental image of his head bobbing in my cock, while his hazel eyes looked up lustfully over my body to my face.

"Robert is our personal fitness trainer. Bob!" he called over my shoulder.

The sports hunk walked over, his white sports vest bulged with his pecs, his exposed finely-toned arms swung casually, his tight, white trunk-style shorts hugged his package. I'd seen him around town in the clubs and bars, always with a gorgeous woman on his arm. Who could blame them?

"This gentleman needs a sports massage." Cute-boy said amiably.

"Sure, what's the problem?" Bob replied, looking me up and down professionally.

"Er the shoulders and lower back." I replied truthfully enough.

"Sure." Bob said still looking at my physical setup. There was something deliciously exciting having a straight lad look at me so closely. "Get changed and I'll take you upstairs, work out payment with Dave." He nodded to cute-boy.

He smiled and went over to an attractive woman working on the treadmill. She smiled coyly and sweatily and Bob adjusted the dial for her.

"Thirty quid for shoulders and back and fifty for full body." Cute Dave said with a smile.

"Full body." I replied, wishing this twink was going to do me. I handed over my credit card.

I headed for the men's changing room. I shed my clothes in the deserted changing room. It was a quiet Monday morning. I put my short-sleeved vest and running shorts on.

The door opened and hunky Bob came in. "Ready?" he smiled looking me up and down. His teeth were a lovely white, his face was handsome with a definite beard shadow under the skin. I liked a man who shaved close. I could only wonder how his face would feel if it roamed wet kisses over my body.

His dark hair was short, but not cropped. He looked like a matinee film star, like a handsome Tom Cruise. But taller and not so odd-looking.  His eyes were soft and kind, not cruel and weird like Mr Cruise.

His muscular forearms were dusted with soft, fine dark hairs. Boy he was gorgeous!

"Ready." I replied and followed Bob out of the changing room. He turned right and led me up a narrow, bare staircase. There was a single room at the top and Bob opened it. I slipped past his welcoming arm that held the door open for me. I felt a frisson of a thrill as my body slid inches past his.

The room was a standard massage room. Subdued lighting, massage table, small window with a privacy curtain across it. Cream walls, pleasantly warm, a rack against the wall with oils and towels hung from it.

"Music or silence?" Bob asked. His voice sounded deeper and sexier in the small room.

"Music might be nice."

Bob's hand responded by pressing the button on a CD player and soft flutes and tropical sounds softly filled the room.

"Draped or undraped?" His deep tones harmonised with the music.

In the UK our massages are done in the nude. I remember once in the States shocking the masseuse when she came in to found me totally nude. But that's another story. But an English gentleman can choose to be draped by a towel which the masseur tactfully adjusts, while maintaining the client's privacy, or just to go the whole hog and not be covered.

"Undraped." I said. "It's easier for a full-body, isn't it?"

"It's up to the client." Bob smiled and how I wished Bob would go undraped too! But that was too much to hope for. However, the idea of this straight guy touching every inch of me was hugely erotic.

I hesitated so as not to appear too keen. "If you'd like to get ready then." Bob said, rubbing his hands together to make sure they were warm. The muscles in his forearms rippled and his biceps flexed. The thin straps on his athletic vest displayed his exposed muscular shoulders divinely.

I lifted off my running shirt and as it came over my head, I took a peek at his shorts. The bulge of his balls and the softness above it were clearly visible. No wonder the woman downstairs had practically melted to putty when he stepped over to her on the treadmill.

"Ok?" I hesitated with my fingers in the waistband of my shorts.

"Go ahead." He smiled and as I lifted the second foot out of the shorts I glanced across. But he wasn't watching, he was sorting out which massage oil to use on me.

"Face down, just make yourself comfortable." He said.

I slipped onto the massage table, disappointed that he hadn't taken the chance to check me out.

I put my face into the towel-covered hole and snuggled my torso against the soft towels covering the table.

Strong hand pressed my shoulders and slid greasily over my skin. Jesus! He was good. His fingers kneaded in above my shoulders and the right-hand area stung with a delicious, sharp pain.

His left hand let go and his right pressed and pushed in deep, concentrating on the sore spot. I groaned and Ben gave a little chuckle over the fact that I was feeling the perversely enjoyable pain.

After spending five minutes on the area of lactic acid, he put his hands to work fairly gently stroking my back below my shoulder blades.

"I've seen you around town." I said while hoping his hands would wander down to my naked buttocks.

We talked about which clubs we liked then about sport and football. I can do the normal heterosexual stuff when I feel like it.

All the time his hands pressed along my back and around my sides. The conversation naturally faded and I fell into the hypnotic stupor his massage was casing.

His hands left me and I heard him lubing them up. I was disappointed when they didn't go to my arse. Instead he put a hand to each of my thighs and pressed firmly. My body rocked on the table as his fingers pushed and slid up and down, causing my hard pressed cock to thicken against the towel.

His fingertips tickled the underneath of my cheeks and I wanted to beg him to take a cheek in each strong hand. When Bob was satisfied that he had covered every inch of my thighs, he slid over the back of my knees and down my calves.

Silently he massaged each foot, his thumbs taking care to press the balls of my feet.

He let go and splashed more oil on his hands and I heard them slap together. Oh! He put his hands to my buttocks and pressed hard. Oh, my god! I thought I was going to orgasm there and then into the towels.

He pressed and kneaded and slid. Fingertips slid into the edge of my crack and I instinctively relaxed my thighs and parted them slightly. His fingers were permissively sliding over every exposed inch of my backside.

The air was pregnant with a heavy silence. I parted my legs a little more hoping against hope that he would defile me.

My buttock cheeks were parted slightly by his strong fingers promiscuously sliding up my crack. They did not pause but slid down the side of my bum and I relaxed it slightly, hoping they would slide underneath to finger my erection.

Instead they slid down the sides of my hips and over the top of my thighs. I could not supress a little gasp when the tips of his fingers slid between my thighs and tickled up to the top, just a fraction away from my compressed scrotum.

"Where was your back hurting?" his soft, deep voice whispered.

I didn't want to answer. I wanted him to carry on wantonly exploring my arse. But I mumbled into the face-hole, "Right at the base."

He warm hands left my backside and he rubbed more oil on them. He set to work on the base of my spine in small circular motions. It was delicious.

Then my straight hero changed tack. He went to the base of the table, standing between my parted feet. He put both hands on my back, leaning forward and pressing his forearms to my bum.

He pushed up with his hands and his elbows dug into my buttocks. It was like his massive strength was forcing my whole body up the table, just gravity and friction with the towels holding me in place. But my skeletal structure slid inside my flesh.

Down he pulled my back, his elbows slipping off my buttocks and his warm forearms pressing into them. He paused and pushed up massively again. So much of the surface of his hands and arms were pressing onto my skin. It seemed to be the nearest thing I could get in contact with  a straight guy without actual lovemaking.

Again he paused at the top of his upstroke and I could only imagine the front of his shorts pressed to the edge of the table. Would he be enjoying pressing his cock to the towel between my feet? Would he be getting hard?

Down his hands, forearms and elbows slid until his hands were cupping a buttock each. Up he stretched again. Surely he was excited? Surely this was a sexual act?

On and on he slid and paused, varying whereabouts on my back his hands explored. Contact between a straight man and myself could scarcely get more intimate. His fingers when reaching my bum sometimes just clutched my buttocks in an iron grip, other times slid greasily over my crack entrance and down between my thighs.

I never wanted the erotic experience to end. Surely Bob must be aroused now, especially as the front of his shorts must be being rubbed seductively by the soft table end. For myself my cock was crammed between my belly and the table, each up and down movement causing it to be rubbed.

His hands departed and I sensed him turn away. "Turn over and I'll do your front." His lovely, deep, sexy voice said.



Part 2 to follow soon.