I was working in a high end hotel as a part of their concierge staff. My Manager often asigned me to see to the needs of the rich and somewhat famous. The very famous or the very rich, he saw to himself. Such clients can be demanding and difficult so I did not envy him in this respect. So I was surprised when he asked me to attend to a very famous athlete who was coming to town. When I ventured to ask why, I found my boss was a bit of a snob when it came to athletes. He considered them to be boorish and uncivilized, with a hint that really our hotel was too good for them, therefore beneath his attention. Granted we seldom had athletes as famous as this client, but those that we had had in the past did not strike me as boors.
On the day of his arrival, we were absolutely full and the concierge service was running ragged trying to meet the demands of our clients. We had called in as many of our masseurs, chefs and other specialty staff that could be reached. I sincerely hoped my major client would not have a lot of needs as I already was cloe to being over my head.
The front desk called just as I was contemplating a needed break. My guest had arrived. Sighing, I double checked my appearance, pasted on a smile, and went to greet the athlete.
Now I knew this soccer player was considered to be very good looking, but the man who I greeted nearly took my breath away. The sports magazines did not do him justice. The ad prints did, but I was wise to the airbrushing and makeup. (You should see some of the famous in the morning, before their proffesional makeup people attend to them!) This man looked every bit as hot as he did in those print ads. This assignment suddenly took on a whole new lustre.
Unlike my manager's view of sports pros, this guy was very polite. He had a minimum of baggage so rather than flag down an overworked bellhop, I shouldered most of his bags myself. It was no bother as I was in very good shape from the gym and the fact that I loved to run. He carried a couple small bags himself as I led him to the elevator.
He kept up a polite conversation as we rode to the seventh floor, unlike many guests, who were inclined to treat us as furniture. In the close confines of the elevator I could smell soap and a faint cologne coming off the man. I kept trying to sneak looks at his handsome, semi rugged face without getting caught.
So here's the rundown on his looks. Not particularily tall, he had that muscular yet lithe look many soccer players have. His arm and chest muscles showed beneath what looked to be a tailored shirt, without destroying the lines. His legs filled out his slacks quite well, although the cut did not give much away in the crotch area. I dearly wanted to chack out his ass, but as I was leading the way, was not given an oppurtunity. He had sunstreaked blonde hair in a crew cut, pale blue eyes, and a very white and pretty smile.
Once at his suite I carried in his bags, let him survey his lodgings and then pointed out the brochure and phone in atrium of the suite. I told him to let me know should he wish to use any of our facilities as I would be at his personal service. I swear the man got a gleam in his eye, but must have imagined it. As he went to tip me, I waved it away with a smile. I informed him that if at the end of his stay he wished to tip the staff, it was his perogative, but until then we did not accept gratuities.
He stood rubbing his neck a moment, then smiled and asked if I could set up a massage for him as his neck and back were plaguing him. I took out my phone and called down. As I had feared with a full house the spa was totaly booked. I apologized to Mr. Beck. ( Must stay discrete here, so fictional name) I then tried to contact one of the free lance masseuers we sometimes use in emergency. I ran down my complete list and was unable to reach a single one. Although I didn't show it, this rattled me quite a bit. Finally in desperation I called a freind of mine whom I had taken masage classes with, in the hopes that he could come. Mr. Beck overheard my conversation, although I didn't realize he was listening. Joe had to work so he could not come although when I told him who it was, he was on the edge of calling in sick.
Finally I had to admit defeat and explained to Mr. Beck that all of the current spa slots were booked, our freelanceers were unavailable and I was unable to comply with his request for a massage.
Mr. Beck looked thoughtful for a moment, then looked me in the eyes. ' How about you ? I overheard you saying on that last call that you took a massage class with him.' ' Oh, no sir, I'm afraid that would not be proper!' ' Nonsense, are you or are you not at my personal service?' ' Yes sir, as far as hotel amenities go, but management would take a dim view of me giving a guest a massage.' ' Then managemant need never know, and I'd almost beg for a back and neck rub!' ' Sir, I'd really like to accomodate you, but I feel you would not want to have a massage from me. You see Mr. Beck I happen to be gay which makes your request even more inappropriate!' He laughed, ' Surely, you realize that most of the male masseuers I've come in contact with are gay? I have no problems with you being gay if it'll get the kinks worked out of my neck and back!'
Oh, it was so highly improper! I could easily lose my job over it, but sometimes propriety must be flung to the winds. The thought of putting my hands on this man's body was so exhilarating. I found myself agreeing to coming back after my shift which ended about an hour later. Then I took myself to other duties, stopping to purloin a few things from one of the masseuers. I spent that hour in nervous anticipation, half hoping he would change his mind, mostly hoping he wouldn't, or that a slot would come open in the spa.
Shortly after my shift ended, I arrived at Mr. Beck's door. He opened to my knock clad in nothing but a pair of white Calvin Klein boxer breifs, that were so thin I could almost see his cock and balls. Oh he was so hot! Dark blonde hair covered his chest,and legs, with an exciting treasure trail running across a hard tight stomach. I laid the large towels I'd brought with me on the sitting room carpet and asked him to lay down on them, apologizing for not having a massage table. As he lay on his stomach, I could look at his butt to my heart's delight. I fancied I could see the hair running up his crack through the thin material. His ass was high round and muscular. I thanked heaven, that I had changed into heavy jeans, otherwise my hardon would have been much more evident.
I got out the oil I had swipede and got down on my knees beside him. Gently I began to rub it into his back. It is hard to give a really good massage at that angle, but I was going to give it my best. But Mr. Beck had diffrent ideas.
' Look, Rusty, wouldn't it work better if you straddled my legs? I need a good hard rubdown and you can't do it like that!' I nearly choked, straddling his legs would be better for the massage, but it would put my stiff hardon almost on his ass. My dick thought it was a wonderful idea, but my head was mortified. Yet, I did it, I threw my leg over him and began to bear down on the massage. He kept moaning how good it felt and I felt like moaning how good he felt. Meanwhile my crotch kept pressing onto his ass. I knew he had to feel it. I'm afraid my face must have been scarlett. As I worked on his lower back my thumbs would occassionally slide under the waistband of his boxer breifs. It almost did me in to breifly touch the tops of his round mounds.
Suddenly Mr. Beck said ' Pull 'em down Rusty!' ' W-What?' I stammered. ' Pull down my shorts, you're gonna get oil all over them!' I scooted back and put my hands at the waistband. He arched his ass up to make it easy and I slowly slipped the thin material away. It was like unveiling a work of art. Pale white where his tan disappeared, a fan of golden hair fanned out from his crevice and there was a glimpse of his pink pucker, before he eased his hips back down. I also didn't miss the fact that his shorts had caught on a hard dick before they came off!
My cock was straining so hard now, I thought it would rip through my heavy jeans. I applied more oil to my hands and went back to working his lower back. Daringly I let my hands slide down to his spine to just where his mounds rose up from his back. No objection Then I let my hands slide oil across that beautiful ass. Still no objection, just a little rise in the hips like he was coming to meet my touch. I ran my hands down to his upper thighs, then up across his ass cheeks again, spreading them a bit apart, so I could see his tight pink rose. Still no objection, just a little gasp. Encouraged I dared to slide a finger down his hairy valley, across his tiny hole. Mr. Beck arched his hips up with a small groan. I felt his legs try to shift apart under me to give me better access. Now it became clear whar he really wanted. This famous soccer star wanted something more than a backrub. I grabbed the oil and dribbled it liberally into his ass crack. I started massaging his tight hole with a finger. Eyes tightly closed he was grinding his cock into the towels. I poised my finger just at the entrance to his body. He pushed back and my oily finger slid in as far as it could go. Gently I swirled it around, his hips grinding harder into the floor.
I began to slowly finger fuck his ass, slipping in two, then three fingers. He was moaning and bucking under me. I began to really pound my fingers into his ass. When I slipped the fourth finger in he spasmed and let out a loud gasp. His whole body kept jerking on the end of my hand, and I could tell he was coming. Finally he lay still, sweat pouring off his back. I took it as a sign to pull my fingers out of him. I grabbed another towel and started to gently wipe the oil off his ass.
Finally he rolled over, smiled up at me and took the towel to wipe the come off his stomach.
' Rusty, that massage was way beyond what I could hope for. I feel totally relaxed now, and think I'll be ready for a good night sleep.'
I took this as a dismissal, and aching dick aside, started gathering towels and oil. Mr. Beck got up and went into the other room. He came back with a wad of bills that he thrust towards me.
I glared at him, and said I couldn't accept that. At his stricken look I relented and said I'd enjoyed his massage as much as he did. As I gathered up the things I'd brought, he laid a hand on my arm. ' In that case I'd like to schedule another one, right now, and maybe we can find another tool besides your hands!' He moved his hand to cup my crotch.
What can I say, our hotel does try to keep it's guests happy.