“Oh…”
Harrison groaned on the massage table, frowning with his eyes closed, like he was in some sort of pain, but of course he wasn’t… Alas, the masseur probably thought he was, and thus stopped what he was doing…
But Harrison needed the guy to keep going… That was the only thing he wanted, oh God… And when he didn’t—holding up Harrison’s circumcised and ramrod-straight erection by its midsection, watching, waiting—Harrison began to thrust his hips up into the air, driving the sensitive rim of his domed cock head into the masseur’s oil-slick grip again and again, until—
“I’m gonna cum… Oh God, I’m gonna… Oh…”
The stuff went everywhere, sticky and nearly completely opaque, on Harrison’s chest, stomach, the masseur’s hand, where it formed unbroken strings between the knuckles…
When it was all over, Harrison suddenly burst out laughing—he was satisfied, sure, but also in disbelief that some bespectacled Asian uncle had just made him cum, and cum so soon…
“Sorry, man…” Harrison chuckled, covering his face with the back of his hand. “Ugh…”
“You couldn’t wait…” The masseur in turn chided his client, albeit with a genteel smile that deepened his crow’s feet, as he wiped his hand clean with a towel.
Harrison jumped the gun, he knew—the guy’s English wasn’t great, but Harrison knew that was what he meant.
“You want shower?” The masseur then asked.
“Yeah…” Harrison replied, still trying to catch his breath in that post-nut haze. “Probably a good idea…”
For a second or two, Harrison was almost reluctant to shift his lanky six-foot-three frame from the massage table. Nonetheless, it was time to go… the masseur probably had other horny bastards lined up after Harrison… so he swung his long legs over one edge of the massage table, stood up without having to hop off, and headed for the bathroom, which he had already used once when he got here, his dick, still hard, bobbing up and down like a springboard…
As he allowed the evidence of what had taken place be showered away, and as his boner semi-subsided, Harrison wondered how long he’d been there… Had Heath texted him? He’d told him he went out for a walk… They had taken a detour to Hong Kong after the World Indoor Championships in Nanjing. He and Heath had both competed in the heptathlon. Harrison had trained hard since the beginning of the year, but was going to have to start training even harder, because the outdoor decathlon season was upon them, which was why Coach had given them an extra few days off before flying home.
Harrison had hoped to meet up with some cute Asian twunk on the trip, while Heath could go eat some dim sum or something… Nevertheless, pickings could get slim even for an alpha top stud like Harrison—perhaps even especially so—for he simply didn’t come across anyone up to par on the apps, and God forbid the former Stanford jock settle for any ass less than what he deserved, which was why he eventually decided a massage could be a good idea—he could use another dude to rub him down and worship his weary muscles, and make him nut his brains out at the end… He probably shouldn’t have edged for five days before coming here, though—before the competition it was to keep his testosterone level up, and after that he had hoped to get laid, but oh well…
When Harrison came back out, a towel around his waist, he saw that the masseur had already put away the massage table and opened the curtains, so that light flooded the “studio” that Harrison was now convinced was just the guy’s apartment… He was sitting at the table that he had invited Harrison to sit down at when he arrived, sipping from a glass.
“Alright, then…” Harrison suddenly felt a bit awkward—his clothes were folded neatly in a pile on the stool across from the masseur, and his wallet should be in the back pocket of his jeans… He found it and handed the guy five hundred Hong Kong dollars.
“Ah…” The masseur rifled through his pockets and looked around. “I don’t think I have change…”
“Nah, it’s alright man…” It was just twenty… and Harrison was flying back home that night. “Keep it.”
“Thanks…” The man mumbled, looking slightly embarrassed, and tucked the bill beneath the kettle, before asking, “Would you like tea?”
“Uh…” Harrison hesitated. He checked his phone, but Heath hadn’t texted. Was he still in bed? Then he realized he’d only been there for about forty minutes, which meant his one-hour massage still had about twenty minutes left… Damn, he did cum too soon… and didn’t get enough bang for his buck… Not that some tea was going to make up for it, but… “Sure, why not?”
He moved his clothes to the floor and sat down on the stool. Then, the masseur dropped a pinch of what appeared to Harrison like pine needles into a fresh glass, and poured hot water into it.
“This is long jing…” the masseur explained, “we drink it in springtime…”
If he said so… thought Harrison… He knew nothing about tea… but it seemed precisely like the sort of thing the masseur would be into—not because he was Asian, but because he was older. How old was he exactly? Was it too rude to ask? He was wearing glasses, sure, and the hair around his temples was graying, but at least he had all of it—his hair, Harrison meant. He was wearing a white tank top, and Harrison could see he was tan all over, with some compact guns too… What about those hands? Not big, but big-knuckled… Those hands that moments ago had performed all kinds of tricks on Harrison’s turgid member… God, did the man know his way around a schlong, and a big white schlong at that…
“Jesus, sorry…”
That was when Harrison noticed that he had gotten hard once again… He had just cum a few minutes ago… What was wrong with him? And because he had nothing on but a towel, the thing had poked through the hems, pointing straight up at him…
In a panic, he tried to cover himself, but only knocked over his glass, so that the pine-needle-like tea leaves were all over the table, and the hot tea ran over the table’s edge and dripped onto the masseur’s pants…
They both shot up from their seats—Harrison’s towel falling to the floor as he did so, so that he was stark naked with a raging bull of a hard cock. He reached forth to try to help the other man dry off—but with his bare hands, as if that was going to do anything to the mess he created—and brushed against something straining at the seams of the man’s crotch…
“Sorry…” Harrison mumbled once more, and froze… Why hadn’t he thought about the fact that the older man had a dick of his own? Maybe because he seemed so courteous… and unperturbed… like some zen master… until now, anyway… that Harrison just couldn’t wrap his head around the guy being… aroused.
Definitely embarrassed now, the masseur waved his hands, and reassured his clumsy client that decided to stay for tea but ended up spilling it, “It’s okay, I clean it…”
Harrison couldn’t explain it—he couldn’t explain it then, and he couldn’t explain it in retrospect—but in the heat of the moment he reached out to touch the man’s crotch once more… It was out of an interest that was more clinical than anything, and when he had ascertained that the man was, in fact, hard, he blurted out—
“Show me…”
It came out more commanding than Harrison had intended, and the masseur took it that way, pulling down his sweatpants—alongside his underwear—and let out the brown, uncut stiffie he was apparently nursing… Harrison thought his hard-on looked too upright for his age, and he touched it, at which point the man and his dick both gave a startled twitch… It ran to just about the width of Harrison’s palm, and in his long-fingered hand it looked practically delicate, dainty, like a perfect… mouthful.
“Oh!”
Before either of them knew it, Harrison had done it—kneeling on one knee and taking the masseur’s whole dick into his mouth… He didn’t need to ask if it was okay, because from the excited yelp that the man had emitted, Harrison already knew it was, more than okay… Being swallowed up to the hilt, the masseur barely even reached Harrison’s throat, and Harrison had to close his lips into the shape they made when pronouncing “you” in order to accommodate the petit organ… There wasn’t much Harrison could do, as he regrettably realized, so he just held his mouth there, and let the man do what any man did best, plunging his dick in and out of a hole…
“Ugh…” The man let out a sigh of relief, like he hadn’t felt anything like this in a while, as he used Harrison’s mouth in quick, short thrusts, but who would’ve thought sucking a small dick could be such a work out—it was having to keep his mouth tight and narrow that was exhausting—so after about a minute, Harrison rose to his feet again, towering over the other man, and put his majestic ivory tusk next to the masseur’s melanin-laden dicklet—
“Look at that…” Harrison exclaimed under his breath, but the man did not find it amusing, averting his gaze at all costs to avoid confronting the sight of him being so outclassed by the younger white man below the waist…
Harrison suddenly felt bad, so he asked instead, “So what do you like to do…”
The man refused to answer at first, turning his head this way and that, before finally staring up at Harrison and parroted, with bated breath, “What do you like to do?”
Harrison smirked: “Are you top? Or bottom?” He genuinely wanted to know… He couldn’t peg the dude as either, but at the same time could imagine him as both.
At this, the man chuckled: “Doesn’t matter to me… What do you want me to be?”
“Well, in that case…”
Harrison’s heart was pounding out of his chest… He couldn’t believe he was about to do what he kind of, sort of, wanted to do… as he spun the older masseur around, and saw that his ass, a shade or two lighter than the rest of him, was pert and unblemished, as good as, if not better than, the young Asian twunks that Harrison had a penchant for being balls-deep within, for a pimple or two sometimes found their way onto the asses of the best bottom boys—but this guy’s was creamy-smooth.
“Fuck…”
This was Harrison’s stride… He knelt down once more—on both knees this time—and dove in face-first. With one hand he pushed the old boy down on the table—the table that was wet with the tea Harrison spilt, but he didn’t care—and with the other, he spread one of the man’s ass cheeks to get to his pucker, ringed by wisps of hair but miraculously odorless. The middle-aged man’s sphincter yielded under the probing of Harrison’s insistent tongue but had a lot of fight, closing in defensively as Harrison dug more deeply.
“Fuck!” Harrison eventually needed to come up for air, spread the masseur’s cheeks wide open with both hands now and spat, loudly and rudely. “You got a tight hole, haven’t you?”
He didn’t kind of want to do it any longer—he was dying to do it. He hoped Heath was still in bed, because this could take a while…
“You have condoms?” Harrison asked the masseur, but realized belatedly he should’ve probably asked if he could fuck him first…
Face down on the table, with his tank top probably soaked through, the man lifted his head to one side and beckoned, “In that drawer… but might be too small for you.”
Harrison had heard that excuse before… He’d see for himself, as he leaned forward to reach inside the drawer in question to find what he was after. It was one of those Japanese ones, and Harrison’s heart sank—those were too small… He’d tried them before… but he’d try again, so he ripped one open, and to his chagrin discovered that it wouldn’t even fit over the head…
“Shit…” Harrison mumbled, not knowing what to do… Call it a day? Even though he was just made to cum, he had ammo to spare… Plus, the idea was already implanted into his head—to fuck his older masseur he found on Instagram on his last day in Hong Kong… What a shame to turn back now?
At this moment, the masseur craned his neck back, and said simply, “It’s okay…”
Harrison failed to understand.
“It’s okay, I haven’t done this with anyone in a while…” And when Harrison still didn’t grasp his meaning, he spelled it out for him: “You won’t catch anything from me…”
“You sure?” What did Harrison know? His zen master masseur turned out to be a bottom slut hungry for white meat… raw white meat…
The masseur nodded over his shoulders.
“Alright then…” Harrison couldn’t believe he was about to do it… “I need lube, though.”
“You can use the oil…” The masseur pointed behind Harrison.
It was the same oil that the masseur had used on Harrison—he recognized the smell—so for the second time that day, Harrison got his seed-pumper all oil-slick, and took aim—
“You ready?” Harrison asked, but more to pump himself up, but even as he said it, his slippery cock head went right past where it was supposed to go in… He tried again, with the same result, and began to become sweaty and frustrated…
“Here…” The masseur reached back, and guided his young white top’s meat train to its tunnel without looking. Then, as the masseur drove his hips back, Harrison watched as his cock head start to disappear—
“Oh yeah, there you go…” Harrison egged the dude on, nary doing a thing, as the older bottom ably took at least half of Harrison’s seven-and-a-half-incher just by reversing his hips, so Harrison only have to give one, small final push—
“Oof…”
Top and bottom let out a simultaneous groan when Harrison finally went all in. Then, it was all the older man again, bouncing his ass like any young, eager bottom.
“Fuck yeah!” Harrison approved, giving his middle-aged bottom a hearty slap on the ass.
“Oh!” The masseur yelped, his voice becoming high-pitched and rather like a girl’s, just how Harrison liked his bottom bitches to sound.
“Yeah? You like riding that cock?” Harrison slapped the masseur again. “You like taking this big white cock in your ass?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Shit…” Harrison groaned, and had to stop the masseur from moving his ass too much—it always happened when he talked dirty, particularly when he talked dirty about his big white cock… It always made him want to blow his load instantly. “Slow down…”
Harrison decided to do the driving from here on out, holding the masseur’s ass in place and slide-slamming into it in slow, long strokes. Meanwhile, he needed something to distract himself, because staring down at his swollen cock going in and out of a sloppy hole was going to make him want to cum just the same… He allowed his gaze to wander and land on a small photograph on the wall opposite them.
“Is that you?” Harrison asked, wiping the sweat he had worked up from his forehead.
The masseur followed Harrison’s gaze.
“Ah, yeah…” He confirmed, propping himself up on his elbows.
Harrison squinted—the man was no doubt a lot younger in the photo, in military uniform and holding a rifle.
“You were in the army?”
The masseur snickered wistfully: “A long time ago, yes… before I came here… in China…”
“You must be really young then,” Harrison said, as he leaned forward on top of the masseur, continuing to grind his cock into him but also trying to get a better look at the photo.
“I was… uh…” the masseur tried to remember, but supposedly it was hard with a giant dong plugged up his ass…
“I was… eighteen… wow…” he finally came up with an answer, sounding as though he’d surprised even himself.
“Damn,” Harrison was impressed—the masseur was a cutie when he was eighteen, just Harrison’s type, actually… If only… There was a date printed in one corner of the photograph, but Harrison had to lean in even more closely to read it, so that he was now practically lying on top of the masseur—
“Nineteen… eighty-one… you were eighteen…” Harrison stopped in his tracks, his sweat turning cold as he did the math: “That means you’re… sixty-two?”
The revelation took Harrison’s breath away, as he stared down at the sexagenarian… How could this be? Look at this guy’s back, arched and smooth, with not one inch of saggy skin… not even a freckle or mole… and that ass… oh, that ass… as tight and fuck-ready as any twink’s… What kind of oriental black magic was this…
“So you’re an old pervert…” Harrison pronounced—he had expected his dick to go limp at the realization that it was balls-deep in a literal senior citizen, a pensioner… but no, he might, in fact, have become even harder…
In the meantime, at being insulted, the old man did not protest, or defend himself, merely twisted his face halfway back, and smiled, sheepishly, as if apologetically…
“Fucking old creep…” Harrison kept at his verbal assault, and at the same time burst into a renewed fit of powerful thrusts, rattling everything on the table and sending some of it to the floor…
“You like having a young white cock in your ass?” Harrison asked through gritted teeth, but he wasn’t sure if the old geezer could hear him, because his thighs were slapping too hard against his ass, so he paused, grabbed the grandpa by the throat and hissed into his ear: “You like having a young white cock fuck your old Asian ass, hmm?”
The old-timer whimpered, and then, as if admitting something he had kept buried for a long time, let out a peep: “Yes…”
“Can’t hear ya…”
The masseur, who used to be a soldier in China a long time ago, apparently, swallowed anxiously and repeated, “Yes, I do…”
Having gotten the answer he deserved, Harrison pushed the old man back down onto the table, and announced, “Ugh, it’s your lucky fucking day today, ‘cause I’mma breed your old ass… Aw…”
Harrison was nothing if not a young man of his words—no sooner than he issued his edict did his taint clench up with the final, decisive thrust, and he felt what the old geezer didn’t jerk out of him the first time around now emptying deep into the elder’s guts, out of sight…
“Goodness…” Harrison panted, unplugged his flagging dick from the old man’s cum-filled hole, and wondered when was the last time this happened to the poor geezer…
“I’m going to… um…” The masseur, who used to be a soldier in China a long time ago, as Harrison kept reminding himself, slowly got up from the table, his pants still around his ankles, which meant they’d been there this whole time. With one hand, he gestured toward the bathroom, and with the other, he shielded the crack of his ass to prevent Harrison’s mess from dribbling out—that ass which didn’t look a day over twenty-five, if Harrison might say so himself, but had evidently been around the sun thirty-seven times when the dick that had just stuffed it was still forming in the womb…
As the old man was gone in the bathroom, Harrison tried to clean up a bit—first the spilled tea, now this… Jesus, the guy was the elderly… Harrison was supposed to respect him, not… you know…
After a while that made Harrison low-key nervous—because what if he had rattled the guy’s old bones or something—the masseur finally reemerged, looking as suave and put-together as when Harrison first came in.
“Hope you had a good time,” he said, smiling that cordial smile.
“Ugh… yeah…” Harrison thought it was a funny way to put it, but anyway… What he really wanted to ask was, what was your secret? Tai chi? Acupuncture? Shark fin? Bird nest? Or maybe it was taking young white bucks’ loads up his ass… Harrison could only wish to look half as hale and hearty when he was sixty-two…
On his way down, when Harrison took out his phone to call an Uber back, he saw Heath had finally texted:
“Yo”
“Where you at?”
For a moment, Harrison considered telling him the truth—“I paid to let a sixty-two-year-old grandpa jerk me off then I fucked his old ass”—but that would give his younger, straight teammate a heart attack, and quit Team USA altogether, and they couldn’t afford that… but then Harrison remembered he paid the dude before he fucked him, so there was that…
“Heading back now,” Harrison wrote back, “What you wanna do today?”
