The Masseur

I had not visited a spa nearby for more than a week due to a busy schedule. The spa next to my home was an urban oasis for me to relax and meet with people. I felt somewhat inclined to go after dinner. While preparing the dinner, I flipped through the Xtra magazine. I couldn’t help notice a good looking masseur whose studio was located on Yonge Street not far from my place. Too bad there was mentioning of “RMT” (Registered Massage Therapist) which meant he would unlikely do anything “outside the regulatory territories.” 

Not long after arriving in Toronto, I went to have an erotic massage. It was not a bad experience but it was a little too expensive. For that price, I could visit a spa many times. That was my only erotic massage in Toronto. Before immigrating to Canada, I had a masseur in Taipei who did a happy ending for me every time. It was expensive, but I was not too concerned about money at that time, and more importantly, that was the only sexual relief I could get other than meeting foreigners in hotel gyms. It was purely accidental finding that masseur when I visited a hotel sauna not foo far from my home. I was simply curious what the sauna looked like and checked it out to see if it would be worthwhile visiting on a regular basis. 

The health centre appeared to be outdated, and was very quiet. I didn’t see any other visitor was present. As I did not go for a workout, I proceeded to the sauna area directly. It was good though being alone there. It helped me get rid of the thoughts from work. The masseur seemed to be the only staff member there. I inquired the price for a massage and decided to book for one session that night. He looked late forties, not good looking, but that was unimportant as I was looking for a pair of strong hands.

The massage was only thirty minutes, so it went very quickly. The masseur  touched almost everywhere briefly. I did notice that his hands gently touched through my inner thighs in a very ambiguous way. That did not just happen once, but a few times. I wondered if he was checking my reaction. I thought it might be a hint that he could do something more. However, it was my first visit, and I didn’t know him well, therefore I didn’t explore further what those touches meant.

One week later, I went back to that hotel health centre again. On one hand, my body was addicted to deep tissue massage. On the other hand, I had been thinking of those touches. Even though the masseur was not my type, I was really curious about what he was trying to do last time. I felt more comfortable this time when I was inside the health centre. I became familiar with the facilities and the surroundings. The masseur seemed to be delighted to see me again. I guessed he didn’t get many clients here. I told him that I would need a massage after using the sauna.

The facilities were not as good as the other hotel health centre I usually went, but I came back for finding out the secrets of those touches. In the meantime, I was hoping that I could meet with hotel guests. Alas, there was no single guest other than myself. Anyway, after a day of work, it was really nice to soak myself in a totally quiet environment, enjoying the sauna, the steam room, and resting with just a towel on. It gave me a sense of freedom. 

Finally I found myself on the massage table, enjoying the strong hands on my shoulders and back. The masseur was really good at this. When I turned over, he didn’t cover a towel on my private area as I had told him it was not necessary last time. This time I seemed to be more open than last time as I was more familiar with his touches. I could open my legs wider so that he could massage deeper to the edge of my inner thigh and balls. I felt there was certain “trust” between us when he approached that area on such an intimate level. I also sensed the way he rubbed my thighs was changing over time, gradually becoming more like foreplay, so gentle but so mysterious. His hands touched my balls from occasionally to a much more frequent level, sometimes even reaching the butthole. I didn’t know whether my facial expression had already told him to “go ahead,” but I knew he was testing to see how far he could go. 

“What would happen if this rises?” I pointed out my manhood and asked.

“If it’s up, it’s up.” He spoke in a normal tone. Then he started touching the edge of my balls even more frequently, and I let go my reservation. My manhood rose. He started caressing my balls and touched my manhood gently. Things followed to a perfect ending and that was my first paid erotic massage. After those two visits, I asked the masseur to come to my home to provide the services on a weekly basis. For a few times I touched his butt to hint that he could take off his clothes but he never did. I was not aggressive as I thought that he regarded this practice as a way of getting customers hooked but he was not interested in man-to-man fun. That routine ended after I immigrated to Canada. Quite a memory!

Over the dinner, I wondered if I should go to a spa or visiting the masseur. Finally my curiosity prevailed. I called the masseur to book a session that night. I possibly was more interested in seeing the masseur in person than receiving an erotic massage as I knew it would be unlikely. Thinking of that handsome face with his hands on my body, I was excited when he confirmed that he had time for me that night. 

It was a 5-minute walk to the masseur’s studio from my place. I was anxious when knocking the door. The door was opened. He looked exactly like the photo on Xtra. He looked like having Italian background, a little darker than most white guys, very good looking and charming, the kind of guy that turned me on immediately. The studio was not big, a small living room, a room covered by tatami with sliding doors, a study, and a room for massage. It was very Bohemian, very inspiring, a kind of place I would love to live in. 

He showed me the shower room but I said I had taken a shower just before coming. We entered the massage room, a massage table in the centre, various kinds of massage oil on a side table, candles everywhere, and meditation music in the background. I did not ask but simply took off all my clothes. He covered a towel on my butt. How disappointing! I wanted to say “Forget about the towel,” but I didn’t.

It was very comfortable lying on the massage table, clean towels smelling good, the candle light, and the meditation music, all making the moment so tranquil that I easily forgot whatever happened outside. My mind was all in that particular moment, in that studio, with him. His massage technics were not bad, but his hands were not as strong as I would like. Usually I preferred strong hands/deep tissue massage, some friends referring it to “torturing” style. His touches, however, made me quite comfortable. I felt a sense of connection with him through his touches. I couldn’t help thinking of the image that our naked bodies intertwined, hands all over the other.

“How did you know my services?” 

“From the Xtra.” That said all about my sexuality. His studio was in the Village and he placed ads on a gay newspaper. I didn’t think I would need to hide my sexual orientation. I imagined that he was gay too.

When he worked on my butt, he was carefully moving the towel to the other side of the butt, very professional. I felt like a patient on an operation table. I knew I shouldn’t expect anything more as I had to respect his profession. Besides, I had no clue how to suggest anything of more intimate nature under that circumstance.

From that first visit, I went back three times in two months. The massage was not exactly the kind I liked, but I enjoyed being touched by his hands, and we became able to talk on a more personal level. He told me that many clients wanted to have sex with him. I almost shouted it out — “I want it too,” but I swallowed the words. He continued:

“In a few occasions I did engage sex with clients, but afterwards they no longer came back simply for massage services. They seemed to deem sex as part of the massage services. Nowadays I maintain the boundaries with clients.”

“I am actually bi. I find women attractive too,” he added.

“Have you ever exchanged massage with others?” I probed.

“From time to time I exchange massage with other professionals.”

“I am good at giving massage too. I have never received any training but I seem to be born with such a gift. If you would like, I could give you a massage.” I finally threw my bait.

“That’s good to know.” 

My next visit was a Saturday afternoon. While rubbing on my back, he asked:

“What kind of massage do you do with your friends?”

“Deep tissue massage and sensual kind.” Even I tried to say the word “erotic,” I refrained.

I stressed that the sensual massage was to awaken the senses and deep feelings. I knew he was familiar with this but I tried to lead the conversation to this area. I felt intimate with him simply carrying this kind of conversation.

“Maybe you could give me a massage. I would like to know your massage style.” He said.

“Sure,” I couldn’t believe what he had just said but I replied in an ordinary tone even I was highly excited.

After he finished, we exchanged our positions. He took off his pants. That was my first time seeing him totally naked. I admired his butt as he lay on the table with nothing on. I sensed my manhood growing a little bit. I felt good about that but in the meantime I was worried that he found out. Without further thinking, I started giving him my self-claimed professional massage. 

“Not too hard,” he said. I sort of realized why I felt his hands were not strong enough for me. Other than that he didn’t say a word. When rubbing on his butt and thighs, I was so tempted to caress his balls and his perineum, but I managed to stop in the twilight zone between “professional” and “erotic” fields. He didn’t object to those ambiguous touches but he didn’t respond in a way I could interpret as an invitation for more either. However, being able to touch his body this way was already a dream come true.

The massage I gave to him lasted less than thirty minutes. After all, it was not a massage exchange. He didn’t turn around to face me through the entire session. I didn’t get a chance to look closer at his manhood. For him, it was a taste of my massage style. For me, I had other agenda.

“Would you like to go to Woody’s to have a drink with me?” When we were dressing up, he unexpectedly popped up this question.

“That sounds good.” I had no plan for the rest of the night.

We both had two beers at Woody’s. We talked a little bit more, but it was a little noisy there so we ended up looking at each other more than talking. Through two beers and being outside his studio, I felt we sort of becoming more like friends, not just in a masseur/client relationship.

“Would you like to sleep over night in the studio?” He asked.

“How about you? Where are you going to sleep? My home is not far.” I had no idea why he asked me if I was interested in staying over night in his studio.

“Usually I don’t sleep there, but tonight I might. It would be a nice change that you stay outside of your home from time to time to have a new perspective.”

“I will have to do something early in the morning tomorrow and I still have to prepare for it.” Words came out without thinking, a typical self-destructive mindset I realized later on in my life. I didn’t know what I was thinking. It would be a dream come true but I declined that opportunity immediately.

“Perhaps next time,” he said with sort of disappointment.

“Definitely,” I replied. I thought of changing my mind but I didn’t say anything further.

Another three weeks passed. I felt I would need a massage again. I thought of calling him from time to time but felt it would be inappropriate. I wondered if he had my phone number. Besides it might not be appropriate for him to call as so far I was still more like a client to him. I had been thinking of him, wondering what might have happened if I had stayed over night with him. I finally called to book for the next appointment  — on Saturday evening, of course. I hoped that he would not have another client after me. He sounded delighted to hear from me. I hoped it was not just for business.

In the middle of the massage session, I asked if he had any other appointment for the rest of the night.

“You are the last and only one of the night.” He sounded cheerful.

“Maybe I could give you a massage later on.” I hoped that he would offer me to stay overnight again afterwards.

“ That would be wonderful. I do need one.”

We didn’t say much further but I did notice that while he was massaging my inner thighs, he was more liberal than usual in touching the edge of my crotch. I felt so intense but I resisted the temptation to touch his hands. I was semi-erected under the towel but he ignored the awakening of my manhood. He continued working on the other parts of my body and I regained my consciousness from the sexual fantasies.

“Thank you. It’s great, as usual.” I continued, “It’s your turn.”

“Thank you, too. Would you mind doing massage for me in the bedroom? It’s more spacious there.” 

“Not at all.” I replied with excitement. The bedroom is a raised platform covered with tatami, very much like a Japanese room with sliding doors to separate it from the living room. 

I followed him to the bedroom naked. He took off his shirts, then pants, revealing his gorgeous naked body. He comfortably lay down on the tatami covered with a big bedding sheet. I kneeled down next to him, starting pushing on his upper back. I could tell that he liked my massage from his moaning and the response from his body. As I was working on his butt and inner thighs, he opened his legs wider. I took it as an invitation to approach the more inner part. I sensed that his body became unsettled and his breath became more intense. I could feel his sexual urge but I was patient. I rubbed into the valley of the butt deeper. He moaned. I kept on rubbing it enjoying hearing his moaning. Suddenly he turned around and his erected manhood was so pronounced. He extended both of his arms toward me leading me to sit on him. I felt it, the unquestionable manliness. I started moving back and forth on that rod. I simply followed my instincts. His eyes were closed. I could see how appreciative he was from his facial expression. I leaned forward to kiss him. Our first kiss! So penetrating, so raw, and so passionate. 

Some time passed. He turned me over and lay next to me while we still kept on kissing. I held his back and wanted to bring him closer even there was already no space between us. I had been hoping for this moment since the first sight of him when he opened the door on my first visit. The long waiting didn’t matter any more. He was in my arms naked. 

He turned me over again and inserted his rock hard manhood into my legs. I felt the heat and hardness. No words could describe the joy I had when he thrusted over the heart of my bottom. 

“You are so tight.” He mumbled, “I have been waiting for this moment for a while. I shouldn’t have waited for so long.” 

He continued, “I don’t mind losing you as a customer. I need to feel you.”

I sealed his mouth with passionate kisses. His words made me tighten my legs further. I placed my hands on his butt to feel him. In the meantime, he rubbed my manhood and kissed my cheeks and ears from time to time. His moderately hairy butt was so arousing to me that I could not move away my hands. 

He withdrew himself a little bit, then he kissed my manhood and eventually swallowed it. I moaned for that incredible first contact and the following thrusts. His mouth was hot and moist. As he turned his attention to my manhood, I rotated myself to feel his manhood on my face. I smelled the male aroma. I was so addicted to that smell and couldn’t resist further but took his rod into my mouth. He made a strong sound to show his joy while keeping on pleasing me. It felt good that his balls kept on hitting my nose. The sweat and the pheromone formed an irresistible smell to me. 

“You smell so good,” he said. I had no way to speak so I kept on sucking his manhood. My hands moved between his back and butt, and I could feel his movements becoming more intense over time.

“Can I cum in your mouth?” He asked.

“Mmm…” 

“Give it to me too.”

He was very close to the climax. So was I.

“Ahhhhh….” 

The hot liquid rushed into my mouth, and that triggered my release too. That moment, I felt we were one.

After a while, he turned around to kiss me.

“Stay, please.”

I nodded and kissed him back. It’s been a while I haven’t slept with someone over night. It’s time. 

The morning after, we had McDonald’s breakfast. I liked having breakfast at the store on Yonge, south of Bloor. It was a bonus that coffee could be refilled.

He invited me back to his studio. Upon entering, we had a look at each other and we suddenly grabbed each other kissing. We both felt the rising of the desire. He led me to the bedroom. 

This time we were patient. We sat naked facing each other. He started touching me in a sensual way. I responded the same. We were sort of providing sensual massage to each other, in the meantime, I couldn’t really tell whether it was massage, foreplay, or lovemaking. I felt his hardness beneath my butt. There was passion, but we did not rush. We enjoyed the closeness. Thinking back, that is the longest foreplay I have ever had.  Our bodies contoured very well, facing each other, legs crossed to each other. We held each other and both were hard on. We knew those belonged to us so we were not in a hurry to grab. We caressed each other. One led, the other followed. No words, but full of harmony. I played his balls, he inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. He then did the same to me. I was totally lost in this time and space.

I caressed his shaved head while he kissed my nipples. I felt his hardness beneath my butt and from time to time, the battering-ram hit the core of the forbidden fruit. He raised his head and his penetrating gaze told me that he wanted more. By this time, any remaining soldiers of my reservation castle were too weak to resist but surrendered. I knew I wanted to feel him inside me too. He put a condom on and entered me very gently and slowly. He kept on kissing me so that I forgot any discomfort when he entered. Eventually I became used to his penetration and I started moving myself to entertain his libido. I felt good to see him so aroused and pleased. We changed a few positions and eventually he came inside me after I reached my climax. 

I kept on going back for his professional services but we never had sex on that massage table. We always went to that tatami room for sex. I thought it was a way to respect his profession. That relationship continued on and off for almost a year before I left Toronto. Afterwards, I went online to check his website to look at his picture from time to time. Then one day his website disappeared. I no longer had his information.