Date: Fri, 13 May 2016 11:37:07 +0000 (UTC)
From: a4f101@yahoo.com
Subject: Quid Pro Quo

Here's a story taken from my Tumblr, at a4f101.tumblr.com/storytime. You
can find this one, and the pic that inspired it, here:
http://a4f101.tumblr.com/post/116507225074/

This story is purely a work of adult erotic fantasy, copyright me 2016. I
own it and all legal rights to it. If you're under the age of majority in
your jursdiction, please come back when you're of legal age.

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*****

"Dude, I could really use a massage," Nick said, stretching with a slightly
pained look on his face.

"Uh-huh," I replied. He wasn't getting it that easily. I played it cool,
waited for him to man up and ask. First thing you learn about being a
massage therapist - once people find out, they all want it for free, if
they can get it. I didn't mind handing out the occasional freebie,
especially for the right dude, but you had to catch me in the right mood,
and you had to ask me. I'd been doing it for a few years now, so I was well
beyond the stage of giving out a free session just for the practice. I was
good at it, and worth my reasonable rates. If you wanted it for free, well,
there was a certain quid pro quo factor. Nick knew that.

"So, uh..." he said, finally looking at me with an appealing smile on his
handsome, beard-scruffed face. "You think I could maybe get a little time
on your table, bro?"

I looked over at him with an indulgent grin. He shifted a little
uncomfortably at my gaze, because he knew very well I was picturing him
buck-ass naked on my table, my big, skilled hands moving over the hard
muscles of his firm, athletic body. I felt a slow tingle from my groin, my
dick imagining exactly that too. But he didn't look away. I guess he really
needed it. So I nodded, stood up, motioned for him to follow me into the
spare bedroom, where my table was.

Nick stripped off his polo shirt, then his jeans, down to his tight-fitting
trunks. They looked good on him - he'd stayed in excellent shape since
college, if not even better. His naturally lean athleticism was
supplemented with big, muscular shoulders and pecs, his upper arms bulging
with hard bis and tris, and then there was his ass. It was a perfect, firm
bubble, one that had always looked mouth-watering in his wrestling singlets
and baseball pants all throughout school, and I had looked at it often. I
was bigger than him, thicker, but I'd worn mine just as well as him.

I watched him hoist himself up on my table, spreading out in a nice display
of prime twenty-something manflesh. We were both on the downslope towards
30 now, but I reckon we'd never looked better, and in my big brother's
case, the proof was laid out on display for me, ready to feel the healing
touch of my big, slick hands. I smiled as I surveyed the swells of his
handsome bod, cracked my knuckles, and set to work.

Within minutes, I had him sighing, grunting happily, murmuring
appreciatively as I eased the knots out of his shoulders, the massage oil
giving his creamy skin a beautiful glow. I gave him my best, from his
ankles up the backs of his thighs, then up the flaring expanse of his back,
taking my time with it, my dick chubbing happily in my shorts. He hesitated
when I asked him to flip over, and I knew he was probably throwing some
steel of his own inside his undies. It wasn't the first time, and I doubted
it would be the last, His embarrassment was kind of cute, but a good
masseur knows when to play it coy, and when to cut the shit and make the
client work with you. Besides, we were brothers.

"Dude, get the fuck over it," I said, giving his strong, juicy ass a
smack. "Roll the fuck over, big bro, your boner won't exactly be a shock to
me."

Flushing, averting his eyes, he did, and I saw how right I was. A good
seven inches stiffly tenting his little trunks, which I smiled at as I set
to work, over the lightly furred plates of his pecs, down over the ripples
of his abs, slicking and warming his skin, matting his sparse body fur down
with the oil. When I worked his strong thighs over, he moaned even more
pleasurably, and forgot all about his pup tent for the time being as I
kneaded my way down the hard, bulging thickness of his quads, over his
inner thighs, down over the rock-hard mounds of his calves. Then back up
again for good measure, since honestly, he was one of the finest pieces of
manflesh to ever grace my table, and it wasn't very fair for him to be the
only one getting something out of this.

"So, bro," I said as I slid my hands slowly up his abs, back over his pecs,
enjoying the soft sounds he made as my slick palms grazed over his stiff
nips. "Let's talk about how you're gonna pay for this first-class massage."

A frown creased the blissful, relaxed look on his handsome face. I grinned
back at him, continuing to rub the plates of his chest in a way that was
both therapeutic, and deeply pleasurable, for the both of us. He could see
the hard mound of my own seven inches, tenting my shorts now. We understood
each other. This wasn't his first time on the table, and as straight as he
was, as much pussy as he pulled, I knew he could be very persuadable.

"OK, fine, you big fuckin' perv," he muttered, lifting his hips and
skinning his trunks down. That hard dick slapped up against his abs, just
like it used to when he was a teenager.

"Dude, shut the fuck up," I chuckled, slapping the side of his ass. "You
just got a world-class massage, and you may yet get a happy ending, no
effort required. Besides... you know your bro always treats you right,
yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah," he said grudgingly, but he was half-smiling, and his cock
sure hadn't gone down any. I slipped my hand under his ass, feeling the
steely hardness of his glute, encouraging him up and over. He moved with me
instinctively, because this sure wasn't our first time at the rodeo.

I applied some more oil to my hands and set to work on the rocklike
hardness of his ass, those twin muscles I'd left until now - saving the
best for last. Soon enough, I had him moaning, flexing them, all shiny and
compelling, and when I squeezed them a certain way, he hiked his hips up
and back, and that meant he was ready for it. Ready to feel the tickle of
my own few days' beard growth on the insides of his cheeks, as I nosed my
way into his sweaty cleft and licked. Brought a low, hungry moan from him
as I set to work on that prime piece of ex-jock tail, kissing and licking,
strong fingertips digging deep into the steely mounds of his behind as I
worked on massaging his tight, lightly furred hole, Felt it respond, felt
him push back against my face, and steadily I worked my tongue up inside
him. I spat on his pucker, pushed it into him with my tongue, and set about
giving him the ultimate deep-tissue massage. Soon, I heard the soft splats
of his precum, dripping from his cock onto the vinyl padding of the table,
and when I reached under him with one slick, fragrant hand, I found him
throbbing hard up against the muscles of his stomach, and slick with his
own juices. My touch made him moan deeper, buck back harder against my
deep-buried face, my probing, lapping tongue, and I knew how this was gonna
go for sure. How it always went. Tonight would be no exception.

"Get naked, fucker," he moaned, looking back over his shoulder at me with
lust-hazed eyes, sweat beading on his forehead. "C'mon bro, let's do it."

I grinned, stripped my clothes off, enjoying the way his eyes roved over my
own big, bare muscles, appreciative and interested in spite of his
much-professed straightness. I grabbed hold of his hips and pulled that
prime ass back, and he moved with me, presenting himself, all slicked up,
outside and in, ready for me. I bet he'd been thinking about this for
hours, ever since he first decided to ask me to help him out. When he felt
the hot, slick press of my cockhead against him, he moaned again, bucked
his hips, and I was slipping inside of him, up real deep, taking it
slow. We'd done this quite a bit, over the years, but I still respected his
tightness, his straightness, how infrequently he did this. Yeah, I wanted
to fuck the shit out of him, but there'd be time for that. You had to take
it easy with guys like him, in my experience. Warm them up first, then take
them to the big show.

My attentiveness paid off, bigtime, with him riding my big cock in my bed
shortly afterwards, his skin glowing in the low light, muscles bulging
beautifully, moaning my name and flowing a stream of thick precum from his
cock, all over the flexing muscles of my stomach as we worked together. For
a straight guy, he made a spectacular bottom, and he'd never once showed
much interest in fucking me back. Fine by me. He was one hell of a ride as
it was.

"You know, bro," he panted between husky moans, "seems to me like... uh,
fuck... you're getting... jesus christ, do that again, fuck, yeah, like
that... like you're getting a happy ending out of this too, fucker... aw,
goddamn bro!"

I grinned, thrust up deeper into him, slid my arms around his slick,
sweat-and-oil-gleaming muscles, and pulled him in close, tight, as I drove
us both on to the finish line. We grinned at each other, his forehead
leaning in against mine, as I felt him work his ass on me like the porn
star he could have been.

"That's how the deal works, big brother," I panted. "Besides, don't I
deserve a tip for a job well done?"

"Maybe I should be the one giving you my tip," he panted, grinning.

"Been waiting years for you to offer it, fucker," I huffed, adn he moaned
and leaned in and kissed me hard, deep, thrusting his tongue into my mouth
like my big cock was thrusting up inside of him. Within minutes, I was
pumping my load up inside of him, and he was shooting thick, hot jets of
his own across the sweating, oil-streaked muscles of my torso.

"Next week, then, little bro?" he grinned, his slick hands in my hair as we
kissed again, slower, deeper, coming down off the peak.

"I'll schedule your appointment, big bro," I grinned, chuckling as our
tongues thrust together yet again.