This completes my massage story. This is a true story of my ongoing home massage experience. Massage is a wonderful gift, an erotic massage can be a gift for both the person receiving and the person giving.
I continue to remain lying on my front, the throbbing in my balls is diminishing, the surge through my pelvis is quickly escaping me however my cock head is still purple and mushroomed to its full glory. I can feel the blood still filling my cock. I know when I begin to rollover this wonderful warmth of near ejaculation will be over.
Then the brain responds, roll over, there is more to follow, so I peel the front of my body from the massage table, push off on my knees, extend my butt in the air and twist in a turning and rolling motion which settles me back on the table, my eyes following the masseuse as he circles to the head of the table, oil in hand. With my release again denied, I settle into enjoying his strong hands providing relief to my shoulders and neck muscles. Progressively his hands and the oil work down each arm, first the right arm them the left arm. There is sensuality to his oiling of my hand, he spreads my fingers, pulls each finger, the oil making it an effortless motion, and mentally my finger is a substitute for my penis in his hand.
As he places my left arm on the table his other hand is already in place on my chest. He will momentarily stop to fill his palms with more oil and then begin to burnish my chest and my nipples with his silken coating. My nipples respond by hardening, the light covering of fine hair on my chest accepts the motions of his hands as he has a methodical approach to massaging from the collar bone to my waist. My cock no longer stands proud, it has lost its hardness, it lies across my groin onto my thigh, I still feel the heat from the escaping blood. I look down, its an awkward angle, but I see the head of my cock has those shriveled lines in the head; the mushroom is just a thing of the past. My brain is already sensing the lower movement of the masseuses hands as he completes his therapy on my chest. He has gently pinched each nipple, he has traced oily circles around each nipple, my lower stomach has begun to become sensitive to his hand pressure.
The masseuse is still at the end of the table, above my head, his two arms now extend over my shoulders, his inner arms grazing the side of my head, his hands reaching for my groin, I can smell his body heat and his man scent as his fingertips work thru my fine pubic hair. My public hair is trimmed to a short length, his oiled fingers create little pulling on this sensitive area, the pressure begins the process of rejuvenating the blood supply to my cock. My cock is sprung from its sleep by both his fingertips and my flexing of my butt cheeks as I push down. Men know this feeling, it makes your cock jump, the puppet like responses of my cock continues and his hands continue to swirl around my cock and over my groin.
I can feel the oily residue between my ass cheeks; as if I had a pussy and the freshly fucked pussy was releasing its cum treasure out between my legs. The masseuse moves to the side of the table, his body is adjacent my chest, his hips push inward on the table. I begin to wonder if he is hard. Turned towards my privates, his hands continue to encircle my growing cock, the hands press downward on the flesh mound around my cock, he occasionally sweeps his left hand downward to cup and lift my shaved balls, they feel filled, like leaden weights. The oil, the excitement has made my ball sac loose, the sac is pliable to his fingers, the relaxed tissue allows me to feel the weight of my balls, I spread my legs further allowing the weight of my sac to lower the position of my testicles, the circling and rocking motion of my cock is transmitted to my nuts, it is a further stimulus to my cock.
Looking down my cock looks like the St. Louis arch, its trying to be upright but it hasn't reached that degree of firmness yet. The masseuse recognizes this and gently fists me with an upward motion. There is no downward stroke, his fist flies off the head and then returns to the base with another upward fist and a small twist. In short order I am firm, I am growing rigid, and shortly the head will mushroom again. He grips my shaft firmly and the other hand begins to cup my balls, but I feel one finger, maybe its his middle finger follow that oil trail downward till he separates my ass cheeks, his finger is looking for that sensitive spot, that holy of holies, the entrance that I desperately want him to enter. If he was to insert that finger my brain knows I would be rewarded with an almost immediate release of cum, three, possibly four eruptions of my juices would coat my chest, my stomach. I might even splatter my neck or chin.
Sensing his finger hesitating at my opening, I push myself; I bear down, my thighs close to trap his hand trying to beg his understanding of what I want. His oiled hand is withdrawn, gently but abruptly and his right hand trails on my left leg to my ankle. This is the tease that my masseuse puts me through during every massage. He will complete his exquisite stroking and manipulation of my shins and upper thighs, he will repeatedly make contact with my balls on each upward stroke, and his one hand will continue to graze my stiff cock periodically. Its a painfully pleasurable torture he puts me through. Since we have shared this erotic dance 30 to 40 times I know his limits and my needs never fully align.
The first time I reluctantly and hesitantly lifted my right hand to my cock, I was unsure of what his reaction was going to be. I knew he would not bring me off, that fact had been discussed during the massage. As I began to stroke myself, that first time, he never left my side, his hands continued to circle on my abdomen and the other hand grazed my balls and moved between each thigh. I swiped my hand across my chest to gather more oil; I alternated between full fisted strokes of my entire shaft and gentle circular tugs starting at the crown of my mushroom head. He would very occasionally trail his finger down to my rosebud, hesitate, circle the opening, apply a gentle pressure but never enter.
As my legs began to draw up, my head would rise from the table and my glorious release would begin. My hips are squeezing, my abdominal muscles are contracting and the arches of my cum spray begin to cover my chin, my breastbone and a pool forms on my stomach. His fingers pass through these drops and gobs of semen, mixing with the oil on my skin. He spreads my juices in an ever widening pattern, as he does so the smell of my release begins to just ever so slightly overpower the smell of the massage oil. Very little cum pools on the tip of my cock or in my hand, my release was that complete.
He withdraws his hands and with one hand taps me on the thigh, saying, take your time, get up when youre ready. He never fails to be a respectful witness to my sexual release, he never makes a sound, his hands speak completely for his feelings of the moment. I would never offer to touch him as I know it would not be accepted, his observation of my torture and release is complete payment or return for his efforts.
My wife, who has been sitting in the room, now breaks her silence, with a statement, that looks like it felt good. The smile and the twinkle in her eye betray the fact that after the masseuse takes a short break, she is next on the table.