Slick

By Saturday afternoon, I just wasn't going to take it any more. I had gotten into the office at 7:15 (Starbucks wasn't even open yet), and it was getting on towards 3:30, and I was tired and cranky. I took a look at the craigslist ads, and one stuck out. It was a 32 year old guy who wanted a massage.

Like almost anything else that involves giving a man pleasure by touching his body, I love to give massage. I've never had any training, but I've always been good at it. I've received a few massages myself, and I've always paid attention to what the guy was doing. And it's just not that hard, really. You rub the right muscles the right way with the right amount of pleasure, and the guy melts in your hands. In fact, you know you're doing it right because he starts melting in your hands. You pay a little bit of attention, and the guy's body tells you what you need to do.

So why so many guys give such lousy massages is a mystery to me. I guess they don't like it. Perhaps they don't get as much pleasure from using their hands (unless their hands are on their dicks) as I do. For whatever reason, it's something that I very much get into, so much so that on a number of occasions I've had to say to guys, "Look, if you need to get up and get dressed and get out, then go ahead, but as long as you lie here, I'm going to keep doing this." Usually by that time, I've found a sweet spot that they didn't know they had. Oftentimes, those are post-coital massages, and since I've already made the guy shoot, the massage has a hypnotic effect.

Pre-coital massages, of course, are a great form of foreplay, most especially for men who are too shy to say that they want you to have sex with them. That was pretty clearly the case with S., my new acquaintance from craigslist. We exchanged a couple of messages, and I learned that he was short, dark, and slender. I will, with equal gusto, massage a guy who's tall, pale, and stocky, but it's good to know which you're dealing with in advance so that you can start salivating over a particular type.

S. was as he'd said. He was also Indian, with one of those very musical accents that many Indian men have, cute, and very shy. He showed me to the spare bedroom, said he was going to get the baby oil, and told me to make myself comfortable. "Make yourself comfortable" is, of course, a way of saying "take something off" without actually saying it, but I thought it would be fun to maintain the pretense of an actual massage for as long as possible, so I only took off my shoes and watch. I also pushed up my sleeves a little. He came back to the room, wearing only some boxers. I told him to lie down on the bed on his stomach, and I poured some baby oil onto my hands.

He really did need a massage. Tight neck, tight shoulders, tight back. About ten minutes took care of all that. I was doing a pretty good job on him, and he was practically purring. I'd been working on his lower back and the top of his ass, and I had his boxers about halfway down. It was a very pretty ass, and when I poured some oil into the hollow in the small of his back, I kneaded both cheeks and push the boxers the rest of the way over his ass and slid them off. I'm guessing he had a twenty-eight inch waist. He certainly had a nice bubble butt to set it off.

I had most of him nice and oily now (your skin is normally drier in the winter; having someone come over and oil you down is very good for your skin; and your mood), and I worked his lower back with one hand while my other squeezed his ass. I put some more oil at the top of his crack, and when it oozed down over his asshole, I slid a finger into him. So now we were at loose neck, loose shoulder, loose back, tight ass. It opened easily enough for a single finger, and he purred approvingly, but I figured that two fingers was about as far as I was going to get into that ass, and I didn't have a problem with that.

I worked on his legs for a while, bending his knees and kneading his calves, then giving him a nice foot massage that melted him further. Then I worked up and down the whole body for a minute and told him to flip over.

Not surprisingly, he had a small, uncut cock. Somewhat more surprisingly, it was soft, but he told me that he was nervous. I guess he doesn't do this much. I told him to relax and started to work on his chest and nipples. Then I told him that I wanted to kiss him. He said that would be fine but that he wasn't a very good kisser. Boy was he wrong about that, though.

I took off my shirt and lay next to him, and gave him a soft kiss while I worked an oily hand over his nipples. He responded (to one or the other or both: who knows?) and I got plump lips with just the right amount of resistance. Yum. I started to play with his cock, and he got hard, and we kept kissing. Then I sat up next to him and lifted his legs so that I could slide a couple of fingers into his ass while I stroked his cock. His enjoyment was very evident.

I kept doing that for a while. He was pretty worked up, and I was on a tight schedule, so I leaned down and kissed him again then started to lick and suck on his nipple while I stroked him harder. He started to breathe hard and speak in tongues, the inarticulate but sure indication of impending orgasm, and then he came all over his pretty chest. Semen on a dark chest is a beautiful thing, and it seems a shame to have to wipe it up, but I did. We chatted briefly, and he said that he'd like to get together again, and then I left and drove home.

I'm not sure whether he really wants to get together again or was just caught up in the moment, but I'm good either way. I really do need to get someone regular to massage, though.