Gay Asian Masseuse Strokes Str8 Married Man

It’s true.

I crossed the line with a guy.  A younger guy… one of my son’s best friends, but that doesn’t make me gay.  

I’m not gay.  I’ll get to that part of the story later, but for now let me set the scene.

I’m George.  I’m 52 years old, I’ve got gray eyes and balding salt+pepper hair, 6’2” tall and about 230–pretty much a dad bod, with muscles covered by a little bit of home-cooking (if you know what I mean).  I played football and basketball in high school, but my work pretty much keeps me in shape.  

I’ve always done stocking/warehouse work.  For about 20 years I worked for a big supplier in our small town, Brenham, Texas.  I started as an overnight stocker the year I got married, and worked my way up through driving, getting my forklift license, and eventually becoming assistant manager of the warehouse, but over the years automation began taking over and they started losing money, so that went to shit and they eventually went out of business. 

I lost my job and spent two years unemployed.

That’s where problems with Charlotte, my wife, began.

When we first met, and even through our first year of marriage, things were great.  Charlotte was a hottie… long smooth legs, blond hair, and brown eyes.  

We had sex at least every other night, until our first son Dillon was born.  If you’ve been married and had your first child, you already know where this story is going.  I knew there would be 6 weeks until we could have intercourse again—so the doctor said— but I didn’t know her sex drive would come to a screeching halt.

Eventually, we’d have three other sons, until she basically became celibate.  I mean, we literally don’t have sex unless it’s my birthday or our anniversary.  

I mean, I know I’ve gotten a little older and put on a little weight, but at least I’m still in shape.

Charlotte completely let herself go.  After our last son was born she found out she had cancer.  There were other options, but the sure fire way to be cancer-free would be to have a hysterectomy.  

We’d already had 4 children, so we didn’t see the need to have anymore.  

She was 5’5” about 135 when I met her, and I’m sure she’s every bit of 250 some 20 years later.

To be honest, I don't even get a hard-on looking at her anymore, but she’s my wife and I made a vow.  

It’s not that I’m sexually attracted to her, I just need relief. 

I’m a man, and men have needs.  If I could, I’d just jack off to relieve myself, but for some reason, I’m not able to make myself cum.  I don’t know what it is, but it just never works when I do it myself.  More on that later.

To cope, I’ve tried a few things.  I’ve never “cheated” but I did get a happy ending at a massage a few months ago.

I’ve been at Amazon for about three years now.  I work like 12 hours per day, 3 days a week, so I’ve got four days off to do the things I love:  fishing, working on my trucks, camping, and watching sports center.  

Lifting boxes onto pallets and dragging dollies can be exhausting.  I’d passed this new  massage parlor on the way to work and figured I’d give it a try.  It was an unassuming suite in a retail strip center with tinted windows and a simple neon sign that said “Massage.”

I stopped one day on my way home from work.  

“30 minute or 1 hour,” said the older Asian lady behind the counter.

“How much for 30 minutes?” I asked.

“50 dolla,” she replied with a heavy accent.

I pulled out my wallet and pulled out one of my credit cards.

“Cash only,” she exclaimed.

I left to stop at the ATM inside the gas station next to the strip center.

After returning with cash she guided me to a small, dimly lit room with this weird piano music playing and instructed me to take my clothes off.

I got totally naked and laid on the table, face down.

A few moments later entered a slim, 20-something Asian woman.  I could barely see her, but I saw she had a short cut, and wore a silk pajama-Like short set. 

She oiled up her hands and began massaging my back.  Her hands were so soothing.

It had been so long since I’d been touched so affectionately… or touched at all for that matter.  She moved down to my lower back before rubbing my thighs and calves.

“Turn over now,” she said.

As I started to turn over I realized we had an issue.

I was starting to get hard-on.

As I laid back down after turning over, she immediately went for my chest, then down to my abdomen.

I was squirming in anticipation with each of her rubs.

My dick was now standing full mast—sticking straight up.  

I was so embarrassed.  

It wouldn’t even be like this if I wasn’t in a loveless marriage.

I couldn’t wait for this massage to be over… until…

As she continued around my thighs, she gripped my cock with her oiled-up hand before leaning over and gently blowing on it.

My breathing increased.

She started to milk my dick with her right hand as she stood next to me—allowing my rough, warehouse worker hands to feel her smooth, soft, supple legs.  

Her speed increased as wrapped my arm around her legs, bringing her closer to me.  I put my hands up her shorts to feel her firm, round, smooth, muscled glutes.

Then it happened.

Not 3 minutes into my handjob, I reached around through her thighs to reach her pussy… only it wasn’t a pussy at all.

There was a penis.

A hard penis…

Just as I reached around, I also reached my climax.

My body stiffened as I felt all my pint-up stress release.  My first rope of cum landed on my face… drizzling down to my lips.  I don’t know where the 2nd and 3rd ropes went, but I do know I was spent.

Totally exhausted.  Out of breath.

Oh, my god this is just what I needed… but I was confused.

First, because I didn’t plan on this happening… then, the big shocker was then fact that some Asian guy had just jacked me off.

To be continued…