Date: Mon, 24 Dec 2012 08:40:57 -0800 (PST)
From: Anthony Palazzo <apalazzo198@yahoo.com>
Subject: vintage thrills;  27. Tribute to a Legend

Tribute to a Legend

MASSEUR; 5"8" (That's good, he's on the short side.) BODYBUILDER (OK, I
like muscles.) 40 YRS (Terrific, older is better; don't want a twink.)
HAIRY (A hairy bodybuilder?  Great!  This I gotta see!)  HUNG (Always
welcome.) UNCUT (Swell, been a long time since I played with any skin
besides my own.) UPPER WEST SIDE; IN/OUT (All fine.)

Unsuccessfully tried to reach this guy several times.  And then one
afternoon, just happened to be in the City and tried the number which I had
been carrying around with me.  Whattayaknow? He answers the phone.

The small lobby of the building near Central Park is weird.  Nice building
but all kinds of graffiti scrawled on the walls.  I scan the writing as I
look for the bell.  They seem to be notes of tribute to a famous screen
legend from the past. Weird.  But it is all explained within the first few
minutes of meeting with my new masseur.  It seems that a famous actor, now
dead more than twenty years, used to live in this building.  Odd though
that the scribbling, almost certainly done by teenagers, would create a
graffiti shrine to this talented troubled man who was probably dead before
they were born.  Oh well, I guess celluloid insures a perennial life of
sorts, or at least lasting fame.  As I undress I muse about the thought
that, with any luck, I will ejaculate within the hour, and I will be coming
in a spot not more than a couple of hundred feet at most from where one of
the most famous sex symbols of the century no doubt came many times. Funny,
strange thought.  But now down to business.

Mario greeted me wearing only gray gym shorts and moccasins.  Now he has
lost both and has set up a thick mat on the floor covered with toweling and
invited me to spread out.  Within minutes he is massaging my tired muscles
skillfully and treating me at the same time to the attractive sight of his
nude ripped bod.  He is no hunk, but is a type that I find attractive.  His
features are not Hollywood perfect like the former building tenant, but
there is a rough appeal to the masculine face with its aquiline nose and
white even teeth.  Mario has dark brown hair and a body that is very tan
with well defined musculature.  And oh yes, his cock is phenomenal.  Long
and snakelike; brown in color, thick at the base and tapering to a long
puckered foreskin.

It seems that Mario has been away which accounts for my difficulty in
reaching him by phone in the recent past.  He apparently winters in Fort
Lauderdale and has just recently returned to New York. Odd coincidence is
that I too have just returned to NY from the Ft. Lauderdale area a few days
earlier.  So we chat about Florida, with him knowing a great deal more
about it than I.  He is happy to fill me in on gay life down there, and I
make mental notes for any possible future trips.

Mario is reaching between my cooperatively spread legs to massage my inner
thighs, ass cheeks and he is now touching just the tip of my cock which is
peeking through more and more as he works me over. The teasing
pleasure-pain ends as he asks me to turn over and I am able to look him
over more frankly.  He also looks me over, comments positively on my uncut
cock (he doesn't get many; isn't it great to have skin?; I'm so glad I
wasn't cut, etc.) and I agree with everything.  Mario and I share the
intimate information that although we regard ourselves as bisexual males
who have actively explored gay sex for years neither of us has been fucked.
This creates a strange bond of sorts.  Mario has probably told me this so
that I dispel any thoughts that I might have had about fucking him.  He has
a virgin asshole, he proclaims.  He is surprised when I say "me too."  This
macho exchange leads to Mario setting up a verbal fantasy where he is my
gym trainer and we have both been working out and are all hot and sweaty
and then get into a mutual masturbation scene.  I play along with the
fantasy, which becomes more real as I start to jerk off his impressive
tool.  He manipulates me to erection, which isn't difficult since I have
been half-hard for a while.  Mario is now kneeling over my head with his
long semi-erect cock dangling over my face as he massages my tits and
gently rubs little circles on my nipples.  I resist reaching up to take it
into my mouth, which probably surprises him.  I instead reach around and
feel up his muscular ass, dipping my fingers into the crack and making
large circles with my hands which end in tight squeezes of his perfect
cheeks.  He leans forward and starts to masturbate me faster and harder,
talking macho dirty talk, still pretending that we are gym buddies lending
each other a helping hand.  I enjoy this and go along with it.  I try to
extend the ecstasy by slowing up Mario's hand but he is pumping fast and
hard now and he soon has my load splashing on to my stomach and chest.  I
grunt with pleasure and pick up the pace on his prick, grabbing it firmly
in a deathgrip so that he can't get away now.  He allows me to jerk him to
a come, and two sparse white spurts are now joining mine on my chest. I rub
my hands on my sticky tits and dedicate the warm feeling to the absent film
legend.  I feel sexually sated. This should last me a while.  Yes, it was a
most enjoyable sex drenched hour spent appropriately at the residence of an
American sex symbol.