Date: Thu, 20 Dec 2012 07:11:35 -0800 (PST)
From: Anthony Palazzo <apalazzo198@yahoo.com>
Subject: vintage thrills:  24. Special Lube Job

Special Lube Job

"Don't use your mouth.  But your hand would be great."

"Oh."  The surprised masseur looks at me from his kneeling position on the
bed.  He brightens.

"That's cool.  I have just the thing. Especially with you being uncut."

He gets up and walks to the other end of the large room.  He is rummaging
around in a drawer looking for something. I study his strong naked body.
His back is bent and the muscles are well defined.  His ass is a beauty.
Small but muscular cheeks, curved by taut stretched muscle on each outside
edge, and swelling like a plump ripe peach in the middle.


I had found Brett in the usual way.  A gay magazine ad.  The apartment was
in an old unimpressive building on eighth avenue in Chelsea.  He was slow
to warm up, controlling the scene and providing a proper swedish massage
for the first half hour or so.  When he finally stripped, I complemented
his body.  I guess we were now entering the "release"

part of the "full massage with release" that was advertised. And not a
moment too soon.  Brett continued to massage me as I lay on my back looking
at his strong handsome body over me. He allowed my hand to brush his
genitals as he massaged my arms.  He would move away, however, if I became
too familiar.


I try small talk.  Like most people, Brett likes to talk about himself.
Seems he is a bartender in a hotel bar, and moonlights as a masseur.  He is
hoping to make enough to buy his own Manhattan apartment. I ask about his
clients. Most of his clients are regulars he informs. He is limited in
time, since he works evenings at the bar.  He can give massages only in the
afternoon (like now) before leaving for work.  Or occasionally he will give
a very late massage after work.  He hates that.  Just ready for bed at that
point.  But he has this one client who likes to call him at 2am and have
him go over to his place on the upper east side.

"It's a drag," says Brett, "but he pays so damn well I usually end up doing
it."


Now that we have entered into a friendlier, more intimate way of relating,
Brett is allowing more familiar caresses to his toned body.  He permits me
to lift and squeeze his large soft cock. And weigh his balls in the palm of
my hand.  He has manipulated my dick into tumescence, using scented massage
oil.  As he moves toward the bottom of the large king sized bed, he lowers
his head over my midsection and I realize that he is about to suck me.


And that is where our story begun.

Now Brett is back to the bed, triumphantly holding a large jar of something
called Hand Job.  It is a lubricant of some kind.  I have seen it for sale
in sex shops and wondered about it.  I first thought it was for
masturbation, but now considering the huge size of the jar I'm thinking
that it might be more for people into fistfucking.  Well, if so, it will
not be put to that use today.

Brett is scooping a small amount out and lubing up his hand.  With his
index finger he circles the inside of my foreskin, and the exposed part of
the head.  He retracts the foreskin by small degrees, teasing.  With his
left hand, he gently tweaks my nipples.

The lube is slippery and very wet.  It reduces the friction and is like
getting jerked off under water.  Within moments he is pumping furiously and
I am bucking toward the promised release.  And it is over. I lie there
resting with closed eyes.  The phone rings.

"I'm gonna take this one," he says.  "Hello."

He listens and then tells the caller that he lives in Chelsea.  He listens
some more.

He names a price, which is the same one he is charging me.  He is quiet
again as he listens to the potential client's next question.

"Eight and a half inches."  And he listens again.

"Cut," he responds.  And he listens.

"No, not today. I have to leave soon.  But we could set up something for
tomorrow, earlier than this though."

He signs off, and turns his attention back to me.  He smiles and pulls on
my chest hair in a playful way as he starts to get up.  It is clear that
I'm not going to get to see Brett come. The massage is over. And so we both
prepare to go to work.