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My Male-Male Massage

I was asked whether I’ve ever had a male-male massage.


The first time that happened I had been on business, away from my wife, on the island of Maui for several weeks. I was becoming horny, and wanking wasn’t feeling sufficient.

I saw an ad in a local newspaper by a male massage practitioner that hinted it would be more than an ordinary massage. This guy advertised tantra, colonics, and all sorts of things that are out of the ordinary for conservative massage practitioners. I didn’t really even know what these things were at the time, but got the idea that it was a very personal kind of treatment. The one thing that really got me was prostate massage. None of the personal services ads for women in the little newspaper advertised anything like that. They may have offered such services, but I didn’t know and didn’t want to have my expectations left unmet. So, whereas my preference was for a woman for sure, I thought I’d just go ahead and try this guy out. How bad could it be?

Now, I’m a guy who although I had jerked off with some buddies in my teen years, was pretty well geeked out by simply hugging a man in an embrace of friendship. I would never kiss a guy or anything like that. Yuck! Right?

So, when I came to this guy’s garden apartment, I was full of all sorts of emotions. On the one hand, knowing that a prostate massage was in store, I was sexually charged up. I mean, I didn’t even really know what a prostate massage was, but had a pretty good idea that I’d enjoy it in a sexual way. On the other hand, I was scared to death. Exactly why, I couldn’t tell you, but when I was greeted at the door by the guy, my voice was literally shaky. I really felt like saying, “This was a mistake” and turning around. Realizing how fucked up that would be, I didn’t do that.

He led me to a back bedroom with a sliding glass door opening onto a shared lawn/garden area. Surely the neighbors could see into this room. Yet, he had incense burning, light indistinct instrumental music, and the room was furnished darkly and calmly. He instructed me to remove my clothes, while he remained dressed in the typical Hawaiian shirt and shorts.

He was a white guy, mid-thirties, somewhat tall, thin, with moderate length curly dark blond hair, lightened from surfing, and a neatly trimmed beard.

So, he wanted me to take my clothes off, right in front of that big glass door, where everyone could see in. What exactly was I supposed to do? Briefly the idea of immediate flight came to me. But then, I realized that not only would it be impolite but downright shocking to the poor guy. I also noticed that although the door led to the garden, it was actually open, but a screen kept the bugs out. I assumed the screen might make it hard to see into the room also. Finally, it occurred to me that no one was actually in the yard. There was no one there to look at me, although people might show up at any time. Still thinking as fast as I could, feeling almost trapped in this crazy situation, I also realized that people in the complex must know what this guy does for a living. I didn’t know any of them, and they didn’t know me. I’d just be another client. They’d probably seen it all before. Or maybe not. Geez!

All this intense thinking happened within perhaps 60 seconds. At the end of the time, I figured there was only one way out. As the poet Robert Frost said, “The best way out is always through.” So I took off my shorts and shirt, and was naked as the day I was born. Somehow, I felt like an idiot. Like a child who did something naughty in school and would be called to the principal’s office.

The massage guy had me lay face down on his sheet-covered massage table. He went to work. I didn’t know what to expect. I mean, I had never had a professional massage, not even by a woman. Come to think of it, my girlfriends in the past, and my wife, had never actually massaged me.

The guy started on my back and my upper hands and my neck with his warm, oily hands, and I found it really quite pleasurable. I thought it would quite possibly geek me out beyond words. Nothing of the sort. It was just, well, nice!

He stepped along the table, and started working my feet. I thought they’d be ticklish as they usually are, but he was evidently an expert. His warm hands felt very comfortable on my feet. Who knew?

He worked up my lower legs, then my upper legs. Then, he started massaging my glutes, my ass muscles. A couple of times he kind of pulled my ass cheeks apart. I realized he could see my actual anus. I liked the idea. I wanted him to see it. How weird is that?

In fact, I wanted him to touch my anus, or the skin just around my anus. I knew from my wife and others that attention to that area can feel quite wonderful. But he wouldn’t do it. He kept kneading my ass muscles, but never actually touched my anus.

At one point, I felt one of his fingertips brush over the underside of my scrotum. It was such a light touch, so unexpected and yet so intense it was like an electric shock. It was just a fleeting touch, and lasted only a second. Then he returned to working on my ass muscles and upper thigh muscles. I really wouldn’t have minded if he’d somehow just stroke my scrotum like that again.

A moment later, he did. Then he stopped. I believe he was adding more oil to his hands. Then the most wonderful thing in the world happened. He started stroking my anus. My actual anus. It was just light stroking, but I was in absolute heaven. Except for one thing. I felt my penis hardening under my tummy, and it was kind of squished.

I figured that under the circumstances the massage guy must know what was happening, so I went ahead and lifted my butt off the table for a moment to better reposition my cock, which by now was fully hard.

He continued to stoke my anus, and now, his forefinger was pausing momentarily at the very opening of my anus on each stroke, and soon, he was poking in maybe a centimeter or so. I was rapidly deciding that this would not be my last man-to-man massage ever. I was already thinking of booking another appointment, which is weird, because at the start of this thing, I was telling myself it it would just be an experiment. I would probably not like it, and would never do it again.

It might have been another five minutes before his finger was reaching well into my butt and literally massaging my prostate gland. I never knew it could feel like that – a sort of gotta pee feeling, but much better. Then, he had two fingers in me. Oh my god, so amazing!

After a minute, it was starting to feel kind of scratchy. I guess the anal tissue can take only so much, at least if not practiced. I know gay guys do anal intercourse and everything, so they must get used to it. It’s like volleyball. At first the bumping of the ball off your forearms hurts, but in time, it doesn’t hurt at all. So, I decided something else: I would like more anal fingering in the future. My wife had offered to do that to me once or twice in the past and like an idiot, I always said, “Oh, no thanks!”

All too soon the massage guy had me roll over. I was reluctant because he’d see my erection. I felt a sort of shame, like ‘should I be seen by this guy having an erection from attention by a male?’ I know that’s silly, but that’s what I was feeling. I mean, surely he saw erections every day, but for me it was a first, and a rather scary first indeed.

But what was I going to do, say no? Of course not, with all the prostate massage, I was so super-horny there’s no way I’d stop whatever was going to happen next.

As I rolled over, I felt wetness under me. I didn’t quite understand at the time, but the prostate massage had caused some semen to be squeezed out of the gland, through my urethra and onto the sheet under me. I know now that’s fairly common and natural.

So there I was laying on my back with probably the hardest erection I had ever had in my life sticking straight up in front of this massage guy. And, come to think of it, I could be seen by anyone who might be in the garden just ten feet away. I didn’t dare look out the door to see if anyone was there.

Normally, when I’m laying on my back with an erection, my cock lays against my stomach. Today, it was sticking straight up like a flagpole. Evidently, it was possible to get harder than I normally did, resulting in this real, true, sticking straight up erection.

The massage guy surprised me by ignoring my erection altogether. I thought he was going to give me a handjob or something, which I really, really wanted at that point. But no. Instead he was massaging my arms, my legs, my chest, the palms of my hands, my fingers, my toes, even my face, but not my cock. I became conscious of the time. Was my hour nearly up? Was I going to go through all this remarkably amazing attention and not even end up with an orgasm?

I needn’t have worried. After a while he did something so weird that I have jacked off several times just remembering it. He started massaging my scrotum with his slippery, oily hands. Then, he was massaging my balls within my scrotum. They were slipping back and forth between his thumbs and fingertips like wet bars of soap. It was almost too much. It was almost hurting, but not quite.
Bang, I came! He hadn’t even touched my cock, yet I was shooting semen four or five centimeters straight up, which splashed back down onto my belly. I was squirming, I was yelling, I was laughing.

Well, that was the best massage of my life. Hell, it was the only massage I had ever had, but I knew for sure it would not be my last. I should say it was the best orgasm of my life, and that includes all the things I’ve done with my wife. I mean, it was literally better than intercourse. And to think, it was with a man, not a woman!

As that orgasm was happening, the massage guy kept kneading my balls. He wasn’t touching my dick at all. That was a little frustrating. You know how when you cum, you want to keep stroking until it’s finished, right? Yet, he just let me cum like that without touching my dick.

As I calmed down, he let go of my balls, and then, he wrapped a fist around my still hard cock. In the past, when a girlfriend or my wife did that, it was unbearable. You know, when you cum, you’re done. No more touching, thank you very much!

But not this time. His hand was oily and warm, and felt really, really nice. He started stroking up and down, as if I hadn’t just cum. Oh my god. I thought it would be unbearable, or ticklish or something, but it was super-wonderful. Guess what? Within a minute, I came again. It was the first time in my life that I had two orgasms in a row.

He continued to simply hold my penis for another minute as I settled down again, then he quietly told me I could stay on his table as long as I wanted, then use his shower when I was ready. He left the room.

I did stay there perhaps 5 minutes, then I did use his shower. I paid him, I thanked him profusely, and I did indeed book another appointment.

So that’s what it was like for me to be massaged by a male.

1 thought on “My Male-Male Massage

  1. Love the story in the detail never been brave enough myself to get a man on man Massage, but would love one

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