Occasionally my work dispatches me to a client site for about a month or so to put the finishing touches on a consulting gig. The firm I work for is based out of Los Angeles, but our clients are international. Being single and adventurous, I don’t really mind the travel. When the divorce was finalized, my ex-husband got the dog. So I just pack my bags, lock the door, and I’m gone. This trip landed me in Washington DC, a favorite of mine.
After a cross country flight, I like to check into my hotel, grab a small bite to eat, and then have a massage to work out the kinks brought on by being 6’-2” tall and working for a company that only pays for coach. It’s imperative that I’m in a good mood when I show up at the client site, and nothing ensures that I’m in a good mood like a massage by a hot guy.
Before heading to LAX, I went shopping for a masseur in DC. I don’t tend to go for the porn-star/escort types. I gravitate to the ones that did it to get through college and then figured out it was a better career than any of their other options and just stuck with it. They tend to be more chill and less self-obsessed. One ad in particular stood out:
LMT. I come to you. I bring the table, lotions, and linens. You provide the music and candles if you are into that. 90 minutes. $200 all inclusive (meaning it includes the outcall fee, parking, and tip). Cash only.
Me: 6’4”, 215 lbs, 32 yo. Pics are recent and accurate.
You: Male, showered, cash ready, and up for the best massage of your life.
Click HERE for online booking. I don’t take calls.
I like it. Totally no-nonsense. Straight forward and to the point. And the pictures were HOT. Killer smile, blonde hair, a little scruff on his face, amazing body, and a dusting of chest hair to round out that scruff. But the x-pics just blew me away. Damn he was hung as shit. His testimonials made it abundantly clear that this was not going to be a G-rated experience. His booking site was very easy to use and professional. But under services, he only listed two:
Massage: Outcall only, 90 min, $200, all men welcome, online booking
The Works: Incall only, 4 hours, $1,000, regular clients only, Saturdays, in-person booking
Hum…what kind of trouble could a thousand bucks with this stud get you into? I booked my measly $200 massage, and everything was set. I had a great experience to look forward to, which would help me endure the pain and suffering of my day of air travel.
I just had a salad for dinner down in the hotel restaurant, and afterwards came up to the room, took a shower, put on the obligatory white bathrobe, and raided the mini-bar for a whiskey while I waited for Ken to show up. I looked down at my cell phone, and not 2 seconds after the screen changed to 9:00, I heard a knock on the door. The precision of his timing was a bit over the top.
I let him in, we made our introductions, and he went straight to work getting the table set up. I watched as he went through this well-worn routine. He was everything I saw in the pictures and more. He was only two inches taller than me, but it seemed like he towered over me. He was massive in his form. I turned off the television, started a playlist on my laptop, and dimmed the lights in the room. As I turned around to head back to the table, Ken was smoothing out the sheet on the table totally naked. His flaccid cock hung straight down and the head was hidden behind the top of the table. He was a sight to behold.
He instructed me to lie face down on the table. I took off my robe and did as I was told. As he oiled me up, he barraged me with some rapid-fire questions in the same no-nonsense style of his online ad.
Ken: “Top or bottom?”
Me: “Versatile. But when I’m outmatched, I bottom.”
Me: “Negative on PrEP”
Ken: “Cleaned out?”
And with the exception of “roll over,” “relax,” and other mundane logistical commands, that was the end of the conversation. He wasn’t a talkie.
The technical aspects of the massage were top notch. I didn’t inspect his LMT certificate, but it was obvious he paid attention in massage school and had kept up his techniques over the years. He was generous with the oil, which is a particular pet peeve of mine. And nobody has spatial awareness quite like a massage therapist, so when their dick brushes up against your hand, you know it’s not an accident.
From the online testimonials, I knew this was going to take a sexual turn at some point. Most massage therapists save all of that to the end, hence the term “happy ending.” But Ken wasted no time getting around to the good stuff.
As he massaged by glutes and deftly rubbed his elbow deep into my sciatic nerve, he didn’t skip over my asshole, like most massage therapists. In fact, he gently slipped an oily finger up inside and started rubbing my prostate in the most amazing way. This was obviously going to be a “full-body” massage. After opening my hole up a bit, he went over to his bag and pulled out what looked like a sealed Tupperware container. He opened up the lid and pulled out a metal dildo submerged in what was obviously hot water by the steam that was coming off of it. It was one of those curved rods with two different sized orbs on either end. After making sure it wasn’t too hot to the touch, he started rubbing it up against my lubed hole. He slowly slid the warm object in my ass and made circular motions with it right on top of my prostate. It was a pleasure I had never experienced before. Before moving on to other areas, he pushed the dildo all the way up my ass and left it there with the full length of its warmth radiating throughout my pelvic area.
After addressing both sides of my back from either side of the table, I could hear him climbing up on the foot-end of the table giving him additional leverage for massaging my spine. He pushed my legs together and straddled me with his knees firmly planted on either side of my thighs. As his hands moved up my back, I could feel the tip of his dick brushing up against the crack of my ass. At one point he laid flat on top of me putting the full weight of his body on mine. He was nibbling on my ear and like a magician, holding my attention to that active distraction. But the real trick was him slowly penetrating my ass with his fully engorged dick while the metal rod was still in it. I’ve been double penetrated before, but never with the combination of a metal toy and a dick of that magnitude. He lifted up off of me making it easier for me to breath, and boy did I need to breath. And as my reaction started to normalize, he began slowly rocking back and forth. It wasn’t a full on fuck, but more of a stretching exercise for your ass.
He dismounted the table and instructed me to roll over. He held onto the end of the dildo to make sure it didn’t slip out as I repositioned myself on the table. My cock was straight up in the air and hard as Carrera marble. The first thing he did was lean over and lick the pre-cum off the tip of my dick and let out a softly whispered “yum” of approval. He started with some inner-thigh work which did nothing but put the pre-cum factory into high production mode. Whenever there was the threat that some might drip on the linens below, he would whisk it up with his tongue insuring that no drop would be wasted.
Then he oiled up my balls and started fondling them gently. He said, “I’m going to increase the pressure until you tell me to stop. OK?” I nodded. He tugged at my balls and started squeezing them, gently increasing the pressure. I’m a sucker for ball torture, and it’s a real turn on for me. Most massage therapists don’t even consider the balls as a part of the massage, so I was especially delighted by the special attention he paid to the boys. I think he was expecting me to tell him to stop much sooner, but he kept going and the pain was erotically excruciating. Instead of telling him to stop, I just said, “that’s perfect, right there” and he held onto the pressure. He could tell it was a huge turn on for me, but he didn’t want to send me over the edge just yet. So he gave the boys a rest, but kept periodically coming back to them pushing them all the way to the previously discovered edge of pleasure.
The ball work kept him lapping up pre-cum on a regular basis, but he never touched my dick in any way except to lick off the clear secretions. He moved to my nipples and started licking them gently to see if they were wired, and they are…big time. His licks turned into nibbles, which turned into biting and it was clear that my nipples were in a contest with my balls to see which could get off to pain more effectively. He reached into his bag and brought out two chrome-plated clothes pins. He carefully squeezed the left nipple and slowly applied the clothes pin to it and followed suit on the right side as well.
He removed the pillow from underneath my head, cupped me under the arm pits, and slid me down the table so that my shoulders aligned with the edge and my head tilted downward. It wasn’t hard to see what this position was useful for. I opened my mouth wide with anticipation. Ken murmured, “hungry little piggy, I see” which was pretty much the most he had said all evening. He grabbed the sides of my head with his big hands and perfectly positioned me for a grand-scale skull fucking. His dick was salty with pre-cum and the mushroom tip was a meal unto itself, but between the slight upward curvature of his shaft and the perfect positioning of my throat, he managed to get all eight inches in my mouth. He kept reminding me to breath, but that was easier said than done considering his fuzzy scrotum was draped over my nose blocking my nostrils. I reached around and put my hands over my nose to guarantee my access to air and to keep those egg-sized balls from giving me two black eyes. His hands were covering my ears and the sound of his dick squishing in and out of my battered throat was deafening inside my head. I was pinned into position, and I can honestly say my mouth has never been put to such a test before or since.
After having my mouth so brutally assaulted, I figured I was due some decent reciprocation, and obviously Ken thought so as well. He pushed me back down the table and put the pillow back underneath my head. He mounted the far end of the table between my legs, grabbed the boys really hard, and plunged his mouth all the way down on my seven-inch cock. The feeling was awesome, but probably too awesome. He knew that between the dildo up my ass, the clamps on my nipples, the pressure on my balls, and the throbbing of my stretched jowls, too much cock sucking would end the party just a bit too soon. He didn’t stop, but he markedly slowed the pace. When he could tell I had regained control of my potential runaway orgasm, he knew I was ready for the last step.
He scooted forward with his legs bent and his feet on either side of my chest. He draped my legs over his. He gently removed the dildo, lubed up his dick, and filled my hole with it. He leaned back so the tip of his dick exerted just the right amount of pressure up against my prostate. With one hand he grabbed my balls, and with the other hand still covered with lube from slathering his own dick, he started jacking my cock while he rocked back and forth slowly and rhythmically fucking my ass.
His dick was huge and warm. His hands were like magic for my cock and balls, but I was most mesmerized by the fact that he was just staring me right in the eyes with his baby blues and had this shit-eating grin that drove me nuts. It was a smile that made you fall instantly, even if temporarily, in 100% total love with him. In that position, in that moment, in that smile, in that gaze, he made you love him. Every fucking inch of him.
The tingling and the sensations were just below the boiling-over point. It was like the highest point of warm simmer. His ability to flirt with that line, but stay on the right side of it was nothing short of expert. He was a real pro, and his years of experience were paying off in this moment. This was no kid. This was a man on a mission. You lose all sense of time when there is a huge cock in your ass, especially when that cock is attached to a man like Ken. I’m sure he wasn’t fucking me for that long, but it felt like a pleasant forever. It just went on and on.
My chest started to heave, my breathing accelerated, and my toes started to curl. The tornado was about to touch down. Ken let go of my balls, used the free hand to brace himself from behind, and started pumping my ass with a merciless brutality. He was stabbing my ass like a murder scene gone psychotically awry. My prostate was swollen from the onslaught of the last hour and a half and his mushroom head was given it a pummeling. His thumb was rubbing the sensitive skin right under my dick head driving me wild. My dick exploded with thick white cum that shot just in front of my ear barely missing my vulnerably open eye. After a few more shots, my balls were drained. He let go of my dick and now with both hands behind him he had even more leverage to fuck me. He leaned back increasing the friction against his dick head, closed his eyes, and pumped me like a bucking bronco in the rodeo from hell. My ass was spent, but it was clear he wasn’t stopping until he seeded me. I egged him on, but he was on some other physical plane and my ass was just the wormhole to his sexual gratification. At this level of intensity, it didn’t take long for him to finally cum. He muffled a scream and froze. I felt what seemed like buckets of cum being squirted up my ass.
He leaned forward and removed the clamps from my nipples, all the while keeping his still erect dick all the way up my ass. At this point, this is where most massage therapists quickly throw on some shorts, tell you it’s over, and start abruptly cleaning up. Not Ken. Nope. He just sat there marinating his dick in his own cum inside my ass. It was like he wanted to bask in the glory of what just happened, as if it wasn’t a regular occurrence in his chosen field. But if the intended effect was to make me feel special and unhurried, then the effect was working.
When I finally had the presence of mind to speak, I asked him:
Me: “So what is the $1,000 service you offer to your regular customers on Saturday for four hours?”
Ken: “Oh, well that’s super-secret stuff. I can’t tell you about that.”
Me: “Oh really?”
Ken: “I’m just joking. I live out in the country way south of here in Virginia. I’ve built a fairly elaborate dungeon on the property. I have a group of close friends and we get together on Saturdays and work over a willing, and paying volunteer for about four hours. It’s a thrill for the client. People don’t normally experience 4-on-1, 5-on-1 type of attention. After we are done, the client takes their sore ass and leaves, and the money funds a night of great steaks, wine, scotch, and cigars for me and my buddies. It’s become sort of a tradition. The variety of clients keeps it interesting for the group. And being on the waiting list to volunteer is an added perk of being a regular client of mine for my massage business.”
Me: “Sign me up!”
Ken: “We don’t have an opening for several months. Aren’t you just visiting?”
Me: “Yeah. Do you ever take multiple volunteers?”
Ken: “No. But that sweet ass of yours might make me change the rules just this one time.”
Me: “I’m here for four weeks. If you have a cancellation, or if you would consider doubling up, please let me know.”
Ken: “Will do.”
He playfully pumped his dick in me a couple of times before pulling out and getting off the table. I couldn’t believe that he was still hard as a rock. His erection was nothing short of a miracle. I rolled off the table, and plopped down on the bed. Ken gathered up his stuff, and before he headed out the door, he grabbed me around the waist and gave me a rather sensuous kiss goodbye. I know it was all business, but man did he make you fall for him…hard!
Part two: One of Ken’s clients drops dead leaving an opening for The Works two Saturdays from now. I felt like Charlie Bucket getting the last golden ticket to see Willy Wonka. Stay tuned for the four-hour report from the dungeon.