More than just a massage at the tennis club

After spending almost three hours on the court for my first-round match, my body was killing me and a session with the physio was clearly in the books for me. I had also pulled a muscle while sliding on the clay that I wanted him to look at. There was this awkward moment when I entered the massage room where Marek was standing, his muscular hairy forearms ready to rough up my aching muscles. The guy had given me a happy ending last night during what was supposed to be a medical procedure by the tournament’s certified physio. First time in my life another guy had touched my dick. And he didn’t just touch it. He manhandled it and he milked it dry, forcing it to give up what felt like a pint of manjuice all over my stomach. But I couldn’t deny that he also gave me the best orgasm of my life. I felt incredibly relaxed after the massage, and I had the best sleep of my life ahead of today’s match.

Even though I was the one on the tennis court today, the one with the racket in his hand, the one who pulled all these winning shots, and the one who managed to beat his opponent, I couldn’t refute that I owed Marek part of my win. I could barely walk last night before entering the massage room, having battled for six hours during the qualifying rounds. But coming out of the massage session, I felt like Superman, ready to conquer the world. And today, I did just that.

‘Alec!’ Marek said with a big smile on his face. ‘Congratulations on your win today!’

‘Thanks’ I replied, ‘I owe you my win’.

‘Nonsense’ he objected. ‘You are the champion, not me’.

‘Maybe’ I responded, ‘but without your massage last night, I would never have lasted three more hours on the court today’.

‘OK, I’ll take 1% of the credit’ he said. ‘You can keep the other 99%’.

‘Deal!’ I replied with a smile, although I knew damn well that he deserved way more than 1% of the credit.

But tonight, I was determined to keep things professional. Although I enjoyed Marek’s magic fingers on my dick, what happened last night was just a fluke, a one-time lapse in judgement that would never happen again. Knowing the drill by now, I went to the corner of the room, stripped down, and grabbed a towel that I wrapped around my waist. And I went to lay on the massage table, lying flat on my stomach, and I placed my face in the hole of the headrest, or whatever that round thing is called.

‘Any particular area you want me to focus on?’ Marek asked. ‘You are my last patient of the day. I have all the time you need’.

‘Pretty much everywhere’ I replied, ‘but I pulled the adductors of my right leg when sliding’.

Why? Why? Why? Why of all the muscles in my body, it’s the one right next to my groin area that was bothering me?

Marek followed more or less the same routine as yesterday, starting with my neck and shoulders, then my back, and then working his way down to my thighs and calves. He spent a little bit more time than last night on the inside of my thighs. The touch of his fingers was just as soothing on my aching muscles as yesterday. But I managed to not get hard. He then asked me to flip over. I told him that my pecs were fine, and I didn’t really need him to spend any time there.

That was a lie!

My pecs were sore, just like the rest of my body. I just didn’t want his fingers to come anywhere close to my nipples, set them on fire like he did last night, and cause me to get a hardon again. Besides, I much preferred him spending time working on my adductors.

‘I need you to spread your legs a little’ Marek said, ‘if you want me to work on the inside of your thighs’.

The words ‘spread your legs’ turned me off a little. ‘Fuck! What am I? A cheap whore?’ I thought to myself. But he was completely right. I had to spread my legs to give him proper access to my adductors.

He grabbed my knees, and angled my legs to form a diamond shape, with my feet joined together, but my knees spread apart. I obliged. And I readjusted the towel to keep my package covered. Marek started rubbing his strong hands against my inner thighs underneath the towel, using his fingers to isolate individual muscles along my leg. It felt great. This is what my adductors needed.

‘I can just go by the touch’ Marek said. ‘But it would be easier if I could see what I’m doing.’

‘Can I remove your towel?’ he asked.

‘You’ve got to be shitting me!’ I thought to myself. But he was right… again!

‘Sure’ I responded, reluctantly. And Marek lifted the towel, exposing my still soft dick, and placed the towel on a chair.

Very quickly, I realized this was going to be a losing battle. Marek was rubbing the muscles in my inner thigh with his strong fingers. And while doing so, the back of his right hand was rubbing against my balls and, at times, against the tip of my dick. The dark fur on his hand was actually tickling my dickhead. It was just a matter of time until my dick would grow to full mast again. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

Marek acted completely professional, focusing his fingers and his eyes on my right thigh, pretending to be oblivious to the back of his hand rubbing against my balls. But he could only know that’s what he was doing.

And then the inevitable happened. My dick started to swell ever so slightly. But I knew it was just the beginning of a chain reaction that my willpower would never be able to control. Within seconds, my dick went from pointing downward to almost horizontal. And horizontal became a 45-degree angle, and then 90 degrees. I could feel the blood fill up my shaft and my dick expand like a blow-up bed. Within a minute, my cock was harder than my tennis racket, my dickhead hovering above my treasure trail. Fuck!

‘I’m sorry!’ I said, with a tone of both defeat and embarrassment in my voice.

‘Don’t be sorry’ Marek said. ‘You should be happy you’re a healthy young man’.

And he continued to work on my thighs, while my dick started throbbing and leaking precum on my treasure trail, just like last night.

‘I’m finished with your thigh’ Marek eventually said. ‘How does it feel?’

‘Much better’ I replied.

‘Any other muscle that needs attention?’ Marek asked, with a grinny smile on his face.

This was the moment of truth we both knew was coming. I was at the crossroad. Either I followed my conscience, or I followed my dick. I stayed silent for a few seconds, my cock still throbbing. And a big glob of precum came out of my piss slit and started obscenely dripping along my rock-hard dick. Although I couldn’t see it, I felt it running along my skin, fully embarrassed by the situation. Marek was looking at it, stoically, but most likely smiling internally.

‘Fuck it!’ I eventually said, ‘Just go for it!’ I continued.

‘Whatever I can do to make you feel better’ Marek replied.

And he grabbed my hard cock with his strong hand, without even wiping out the precum on my shaft. And he started stroking it. Fuck! It felt good! Another guy’s hand roughing up my manhood. Marek had me at the same level of bliss I experienced yesterday. He was providing with his magic fingers the stimulation my dick was craving for. And it felt amazing!

He went on to grab a bottle of lotion and poured a big glob on my shaft. And then he poured another big glob on the palm of his hands. He rubbed his hands against one another to spread the lotion all over his fingers. And he went back to stroking my hard cock.

He stopped from time to time, focusing on my balls, playing with my foreskin, inserting his finger between my dickhead and my foreskin, and exposing my dickhead. Fuck! The guy knew what he was doing! And he poured more lotion every so often. And I was laying on my back, my eyes now closed, my legs still slightly spread, from him working my adductors earlier, soaking in the friction on my sensitive cock. I was in Heaven.

‘Do you trust me?’ Marek asked at one point.

‘Sure’ I replied, not quite sure where his question was coming from, but too tranquil to give it much thought.

‘Then, I need you to relax’ Marek said.

I felt Marek’s fingers lift my ball sack. I heard the sound of the lotion bottle being squeezed, and I felt some gooey liquid on my taint, dripping toward my asshole.

Wait? What? Why is he pouring lotion around my asshole?

And before I even had time to react, I felt the tip of his finger pocking at the entrance of my virgin hole, swirling around, but pushing in at the same time.

Is he trying to finger my asshole? What-The-Fuck!?!?! What do I do?

Instinctively, I clenched my ring muscles to stop the invasion.

‘Don’t fight back’ Marek said, ‘I need you to relax’.

‘Don’t fight back?!?!?’ I thought to myself. ‘What the fuck?!?!? Damn right, I’m gonna fight back! I’m not letting another dude stick his finger up my ass!’

‘Relax!’ Marek reiterated, while squeezing my cock with his other hand. ‘You said you trusted me’ he said, with a tone of reprobation in his voice.

‘Wait? What? I’m the bad guy for not letting another dude stick his finger up my ass?’ I thought to myself.

‘I can’t get you ready for your next match if you don’t let me do my job’ Marek argued.

‘Yes, he was right. I should let him do his job’ I thought to myself.

‘Wait! No! No way! His job doesn’t involve sticking a finger up my ass. His job is to massage my aching adductors.’

But, seizing the opportunity of my split-second hesitation, Marek, in one strong push, had already forced his finger inside my virgin hole, up to the second knuckle, while my ring had let its guard down. Although my ring was now clamping around his finger like crazy. It was too late. There was nothing I could do to expel the intruding foreign object. I was fucked! Literally!

And Marek started jerking my cock again.

‘Enjoy!’ Marek said.

Past the initial shock, I felt Marek vibrate the tip of his finger inside my hole and it felt surprisingly good. I know that some guys in porn movies like it when their hole gets stimulated at the same time they’re fucking the girl. But having something up your ass is so taboo among men that very few guys ever try it, even if it’s supposed to feel great. With my ex-girlfriend Stella, I never went anywhere close to her back entrance, and she never went anywhere close to mine. But Marek’s fingertip was sparking something inside of me. If I relaxed and tried to only focus my mind on the amazing feeling and forget about the humiliation of being penetrated by another guy, it actually felt great.

After teasing my entrance for a while, as well as the first inch past the gate, Marek eventually pushed through, until his middle finger was all the way in, past his last knuckle. I felt so powerless, having my hole violated by another dude, but not being able to stop the invasion. Although I desperately clamped on his finger, I felt the skin inside my hole being dragged in, until I felt his other fingers pressing against my taint.

That’s about when Marek hit a spot inside my chute.

‘Your prostate’ Marek said, when he saw the look of surprise on my face. ‘It needs stimulation if you want to be fully relaxed’.

Needless to say, my prostate had never been stimulated before, since no foreign object had ever been inserted up my ass. The feeling was… strange, I guess. Yes, strange. I don’t know any better way to describe it. It wasn’t immediate intense pleasure, the way I almost jumped off the massage table when Marek grabbed my hardon last night, or the way shockwaves travel through my entire body when my nipples get barely brushed. Here, it felt more like tickles, but tickles inside my body, and a lot more subdued: gentle tickles, I guess. Although it didn’t feel painful or uncomfortable, it didn’t feel like much of anything… at first. But the more Marek rubbed that spot with his finger, the more it got me worked up, every additional stimulus building up on the previous one. And pleasure started accumulating in my body, like a bow that you draw a little bit more with each pull, until it can’t be arched any further, and is ready to just shoot its arrow in one quick release.

After a minute or so of rubbing my prostate with his middle finger, Marek who had somewhat neglected my rock-hard cock, started jerking me off again with his other hand.

‘Relax!’ he kept saying.

And I was relaxed, trying to savor the double-stimulation, evacuating any other thought out of my mind. But the build-up in my prostate kept growing. The diesel engine, which had been slow to warm up was finally gaining speed. My breathing intensified and I started panting a little. My body was getting worked up and we both knew where this was going. When I sensed I was getting closer, I started playing with my nipples, adding upper body stimulation to all the wonders Marek was already working on my lower body.

I closed my eyes, tilted my head a little and I felt my man batter churning inside my balls.

But Marek stopped jerking my cock and slowly pulled his finger out of my ass.

‘Not yet’ Marek said. ‘Your prostate needs more stimulation.’

‘Fuck!’ I thought to myself. I was so close to cumming, and it was building up to be an intense one. And Marek denied me my release. Instead, my cock just spurted a little glob of precum. I felt the pressure in my balls subside, kind of like when you turn down the stove under boiling water that’s about to overflow from the pot, and you see the white foam retreat back down the pot. The feeling of Marek’s digit leaving my manhole felt strange. My ass ring was just as relaxed as the rest of my body now, no longer needing to clamp down on Marek’s finger. I bet he could easily reinsert his finger up my hole and this time would be facing no resistance.

Marek poured more oil on his fingers and went back to massaging my adductors. Meanwhile, my cock kept throbbing, having been denied its explosion a minute earlier, but still expecting one in the near future.

After a minute or so, Marek stuck his finger up my ass again. As I suspected, his second entry was a lot smoother than the first one, my ring not opposing much resistance against the now familiar invasion. The overwhelming joy of all these feelings I had never experienced before caused my balls to start boiling very quickly, ready to start the chain reaction again. But Marek noticed it and pulled his finger out and stopped jerking my dick again, denying me my release for the second time. And he went back to massaging my adductors. While enjoying his work on my aching muscles, I was wondering if Marek had ever had a finger up his ass and if that was the reason why he was so skilled at fingering me. Probably not. Who could ever finger a masculine guy like him?

The third time Marek inserted his finger inside me, my hole didn’t even fight back, and his finger went in like a cowboy through Saloon swinging doors. Surprisingly, my hole actually welcomed the intrusion. Marek had overcome all my inhibitions. I felt completely carefree. As an athlete, I’ve always been used to seeing naked guys in the locker room. But erect penises are a completely different story. I’ve always been somewhat self-conscious about my manhood. I think all guys are, unless they’re blessed with a monster cock. But tonight, my 6-incher was on full display in front of another guy, unapologetically. I’m sure Marek has a bigger cock than me. But I didn’t care. My dick was what it was, with the length, the girth, and the shape it had. And that was it. Both my dick and my hole were craving the stimulation. Nothing else mattered at that very moment.

And Marek kept rubbing his finger against my prostate, over and over again, a relentless stimulus that was sending shock waves all over my body. For the third time, I felt my manjuice boil inside my balls.

I so wanted to cum. I so needed to cum.

‘Please let me cum’ I begged Marek.

And he nodded.

Once I knew my reward was coming, I started twitching my nipples with my fingers again, I tilted my head back, and I closed my eyes. And I focused my mind on all the concurrent stimulations overwhelming my brain and my body. I then felt the accumulated jizz rise inside my shaft, my body tensed up, my shaft swelled a little. And this time, Marek didn’t deny me my reward.

And my cock erupted, as I yield: ‘Oh putain, tu m’fais jouir!’

With all the precum build-up from when Marek was edging me, a big rope of white cream sprayed out of my cock, like if Marek had uncapped a beer bottle that had been shaken for too long. My initial rope erupted like lava out of a volcano and landed on the concrete floor behind my head. I bet it landed even further than yesterday, if that was even possible.

And Marek kept jerking my cock, up and down, and up and down, and up and down, methodically, relentlessly, unapologetically, while rubbing my prostate, just as intensely. And my second volley shot out of my cock, landing on my chest, followed by a third and a fourth, while I was moaning uncontrollably: ‘Aaaarrrggghhhhh!’ A feeling of euphoria travelled through my entire body, my muscles tingling from all this excitement, and my cock spurting and spurting more juice. Until there was no more.

Although I didn’t cum as much as last night, when I had released five days’ worth of pent-up juice, I was still amazed by how much man milk my Belgian balls were able to yield, after having been hollowed out last night. A copious amount of gooey batter channeling through the crevices of my abs and running onto the side of my body.

I laid there inert, still breathing heavily, recovering from this incredible high. It was hard to decide if this orgasm was better than yesterday or not. It was just different.

Even though I wasn’t a virgin, all the new sensations that Marek made me experience made me realize how dull my short sex life had been until now. Marek helped me explore a part of my sexuality I had been deprived of with my plain vanilla sex with Stella. But I sure felt relaxed, incredibly relaxed, as if all the tension in my muscles had been expelled out of my dick. The pain in my adductors seemed to have vanished as well. And, ironically, even though I had just allowed another dude to stick his finger up my ass, I had never felt more like a man than tonight, having shot enough semen to impregnate a whole village.

Marek went to get a towel and a glass of water and handed me the glass while starting to sponge the cum off my sloppy stomach.

‘How are you feeling?’ Marek asked.

‘Incredible!’ I replied. ‘Completely relaxed’.

‘Good!’ Marek said.

I stood up, made my way to the corner of the room, and put my clothes back on.

‘Thanks again for everything’ I told Marek before exiting the room.

‘I hope you sleep well tonight’ he said.

‘Trust me, I will!’ I replied.

It was only 10:30pm by the time I got back to my hotel room and took a hot shower. I was able to have a chat with my mom and dad, to debrief my match tonight and come up with a game plan for tomorrow’s match. I slept another 9 hours that night and felt rejuvenated in the morning. I was ready to kick ass again.

My second-round match was against my nemesis. Or more precisely, I was his nemesis. It was a German player called Hans. Hans and I have known each other since we were 12 or 13, having played a lot of junior tournaments together over the years. We even shared hotel rooms a couple of times. Young players often need to do that to save money on hotel costs.

Even though we were born the same year, I was born in January, and he was born in October. When we were 12 or 13, these 10 months made a world of a difference. I was always taller and stronger than Hans and always had a physical edge over him growing up. I also went through puberty earlier than he did. Although that physical edge had somewhat disappeared now that we were both adults, the psychological edge was still very much present.

Hans and I had faced each other seven times since we were kids, and I had an unblemished 7-0 record against him. Over the years, I had been able to figure out his weaknesses while he could never figure out mine. His strong point was his killer forehand. So, I tried to hammer his backhand instead. And once I was able to shift him far enough to the left, I often pulled a drop shot that he never seemed to see coming. He never was particularly quick on the court, which was kind of surprising for a short guy like him who’s only 5’10”.

But even if he had been able to crack the code, Hans still had some kind of a mental block when facing me that he had never been able to overcome. Like a lot of young players, he got frustrated easily and was known for throwing tantrums on the court. Meanwhile, keeping my composure and not getting worked up when things weren’t going my way were things my coach and I had been working on over the years. When playing against Hans, I always knew how to press his buttons and get under his skin. The irony was that Hans had had a more successful pro career than me. He was now ranked inside the top 200, and that’s why he was seeded in this tournament while I had to go through the qualifying rounds. But even though he was now a better player than me, I still had his number.

‘Well, well, well! Look who’s here!’ I told Hans when we saw each other in the locker room, about to enter the court.

‘Are you gonna give it another try?’ I asked him with a smile on my face.

‘Shut up!’ Hans responded, obviously annoyed by my trash talk.

‘Oh, feisty!’ I joked. ‘That’s the right attitude!’

The psychological warfare had just begun.

Although Hans won the first set, I never got really worried and always remained confident I would prevail in the end. I was just feeling great today. We hadn’t faced each other for over a year, and Hans had made lots of progress on his footwork. I took the first set to adjust. But after that, the steamroll got in motion as I started to gain an edge over him. And Hans grew more and more frustrated as the match progressed. I was pumping my fist in his direction every time I pulled a winning shot. Even though I couldn’t keep my middle finger extended when doing that, Hans knew exactly that’s what I was thinking, and it drove him crazy. And I gave devious stares in his direction every time we changed sides. I was fucking with his brain, the way I had always done. And it was working, the way it always had. Hans became increasingly frustrated. He even threw his racket on the ground at one point and received a warning from the umpire.

Once I won the second set, I knew he was mine. I crushed him 6-0 in the third set, adding insult to injury. Hans didn’t even look at me when we shook hands at the end of the match. I could tell he was fuming inside. Losing in the second round. And losing to me… yet again.

‘8-0, little dude!’ I thought to myself. I was going to taunt him and throw a ‘Nice try!’ to his face, but I opted not to. This was only my third time ever qualifying for the quarterfinals at the Challenger level. I wanted this to be a celebration and not create any unnecessary drama. With all this trash talk, I had already planted the seeds of my next victory over Hans for the next time he and I played each other. There was no point being a dick about it.

I joked about the whole thing with my dad when we talked on the phone after the match. My dad wasn’t as confident as I was that I was going to prevail, since Hans had really blown up over the past year and was now ranked way higher than me. But, when I saw the look of defeat in Hans’s eyes in the locker room, before we even set foot on the court, I knew he was fucked. And he knew it too. Regardless of Hans, I could sense that my dad was very proud of my qualifying for the quarterfinals. My mom was over the moon too. And I received a lot of texts and Instagram messages congratulating me on the win.

I was in quite a good mood when I saw Marek after the match. He congratulated me on my win as well. I stripped down in the corner, as usual, but instead of wrapping the towel around my waist, I tossed it over my left shoulder and walked toward the massage table with my dick hanging. Having Marek’s finger up my ass last night kind of created a… connection between us. I figured it would be odd to be a prude at this point and conceal from Marek the cock he had milked dry for the past two nights.

I had spent another two hours on the court today. I needed a good massage.

(To be continued…)