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After my company moved our cubicle work space to a different part of the building, I lost my wonderful ergonomic chair in the shuffle. In only a week, my back was complaining severely, so I sought out the services of a masseuse. A co-worker gave me a recommendation that he highly regarded, and added as a side note that this man had a doctorate in physiology. That sounded impressive, so I called and made an appointment for the next Friday at 4:30, his only open slot and his last appointment for the day.
Friday afternoon could not come too soon for me. Upon entering Dr. Lundquist’s waiting room I noticed some professional awards framed on the wall indicating his certification in numerous Oriental therapeutic techniques. This guy must really know his stuff. I also took in the understated oriental accents decorating the room. After waiting about 10 minutes one of the staff led me to the massage room. It was also decorated in an Oriental motif that produced a very calm and relaxing atmosphere. Having had massages in the past, I knew the drill and shucked my clothes and wrapped the provided towel around my waist. Just after I had snugged the towel around me, the door opened and another towel-clad man walked into the room. Assuming he was another patient who had lost his way I said with a grin, “Wrong room, this one’s taken”
In reply, he stuck out his hand and said, “Hi, I’m Joe Lundquist. I’m pretty sure I’m in the right place.” A wry grinned flashed briefly across his face. “You’re Patrick?”
He had an average build, very fit, mildly tanned and his grip was firm. Of course it was firm, I thought, his hands are like rocks and his forearms knotty with muscle from his vocation, although the rest of his physique was normal. His close-cropped salt-and-pepper hair gave a distinguished appearance to an otherwise pretty normal, friendly face.
“Well, yes, I am. I must admit, I wasn’t expecting my doctor to step in right from the showers.”
“Oh, I wear this to put my patients at ease. Most of them are much more comfortable if I’m also just wearing a towel. And please call me Joe.” I could understand this from the male patient point of view, but I wondered what his female patients thought about this. Hell, they probably loved it. He had a very disarming natural charm that most women would find very attractive. I wondered how many of his patients he was boffing? I suddenly suspected he was a genius and briefly entertained the thought of a sudden personal career change to massage therapy.
“So,” he said, “Tell me what the problem is while you make yourself comfortable on the table.”
I explained my situation, describing the lower back pain that had become constant and had started traveling down into my right buttock and thigh. “Hmm,” he said. “Due to the location of the problem, I can do a much better job if you remove your towel. Could you turn over onto your stomach also, please?” Seeing the sense in this, I did as he suggested. Removing the towel allowed cool air to touch my skin, but this was immediately replaced by the warmth of his hands on my back. He spent some time probing the muscles of my lower back and butt, then informed me that he would start with a general massage to loosen me up then proceed to focus on my serious issues.
My head was turned to my left and my arms were straight down at my sides as he began the massage. He stood at the left of the table and by glancing down I could clearly see his towel-wrapped groin bouncing gently against the side as he worked his hands over my back muscles. Up to this point, all had seemed professional but I suddenly realized that I was naked and an almost naked man was caressing my body. (OK, not caressing — massaging. But “the eye of the beholder” and all that …) My bi-curious impulses, usually deeply buried, suddenly surfaced.
I’ve always wondered just how common my bi-sexual outlook is. I am primarily focused on women and seek out female companionship whenever I can. I have no desire or curiosity about hugging, caressing or kissing another man. Nor do I have any interest or desire for forming any kind of relationship with a man. In fact the idea of doing these things is a complete turn-off for me. But I find the raw sexual aspects of man-to-man sex very intriguing. I often fantasize about sucking and servicing another man’s cock. I have also fantasized about feeling a firm erect cock penetrating me, spreading me open and stroking deeply in and out of me until it spurts warm cream up my ass. I’ve never done anything about the latter fantasy except sliding fingers up my hole when I’m in the shower. But I have fulfilled some aspects of my oral fantasy, by sucking strangers at a glory hole. I’ve only done it 3 times so far. The first guy pulled out and shot his load against the wall of his cubicle. The second never came at all but simply left after 10 minutes of my best efforts. After those initial disappointments, the third guy was quite a surprise as he spewed what seemed like gallons of come into my mouth. I wasn’t prepared poker oyna at that point in my adventures to swallow, so I let it all drip from my mouth onto the floor. But I knew the thrill of feeling a cock spurting a load of come across my tongue would bring me back to the glory hole again.
It suddenly occurred to me that this train of thought was not the most convenient to be having while getting a massage. My cock had become a rigid bar beneath me. “Ok,” Joe said, “Let’s work on the front. About face.”
“Umm … well .. uh ..there’s a problem ..,” I mumbled. “No problem at all,” Joe said in his easy manner. “Happens all the time. A massage gets the blood flowing and things just pop up. Think nothing of it.” My God, he knew I had a hard-on all the time, even though I was on my stomach. Grinning sheepishly I turned over, exposing my rigid member to view. Joe kept his face professionally impassive, but I thought I saw the slightest upward quirk of an eyebrow. I’m only average size (perhaps thicker than most), but my shaft was fully engorged and turning over did nothing to ease the situation. Especially after I noticed that Joe’s towel seemed to be sporting a bit of a bulge. Was he turned on by the fact that I was turned on? Interesting.
He started prodding gently around the top of my right hip-bone, and most of the prods elicited twinges of one sort or another, accompanied by numerous ‘Owwws” on my part. “Mmm hm, Mmm hm,” he kept saying to himself. Then, “Ok, we are going to need to compress your right leg back against your chest to stretch those muscles along your hip. I’m going to try it beside the table first, but the angle may not work. Bring your right knee up and put your right foot flat on the table as close to your butt as you can.” I complied and he grasped my calf and pushed up and towards my chest, then wrapped his right arm completely around my doubled leg and pressed downward towards my chest. The muscles along my hip, butt and thigh were on fire, but in a good way. I groaned aloud.
“Hmm, that’s close, but no cigar. I’ll have to get up on the table. Hold on.” He clambered up and knelt on the table and pulled both my legs up and placed both ankles over his right shoulder. Then he leaned all his weight down on the backs of my legs so they pressed against my chest. This produced a different stretching along the hurt muscles, but not as good as the first time. It also made me aware of Joe’s bulge pressing against my cock where it was trapped between my legs. Joe sensed that the angle for his adjustment was not ideal, and said, “OK, we’ll have to do this straight on. Don’t get any ideas about compromising my virtue.” he said with just the shadow of a grin. I discovered what he meant as he brought my right leg to the other side of his head such that I had an ankle on either side and his weight would be evenly distributed when he pressed down. As he lowered himself down, I could definitely feel his cock through the towel pressing against my own cock. To the casual onlooker, it would appear as if Joe had me in the missionary position and was fucking me deeply, if the towel had not been in the way. What could not be seen however was the amount of pressure he was exerting on my legs and the line of intense pain threading through my right side, which pulsed to a peak and then suddenly … disappeared. I groaned in relief.
“Ah, it released, didn’t it? Thought that was it,” Joe said.
“Yes, Yes, the pain is gone! This is great!” I sighed. I relaxed into what felt like a puddle of loose muscle. Then I suddenly realized the intimacy of our positions. My legs were splayed open, my ankles were hooked over Joe’s shoulders, his body was pressed completely down upon mine, and I could feel his hard cock pressing through the towel, partly against my perineum, and partly against my ass. My own cock was still rock-hard. I felt wanton and lewdly passive beneath him. This was one of the positions I fantasized about when I thought of being fucked. Having my hole completely exposed and vulnerable, my very posture inviting a hard cock to enter me and fill me with cum. These thoughts made my cock throb with desire. In response I felt him slide ever so slightly further down so his hard shaft was pressed directly between my cheeks, the terry-cloth of the towel teasing my rosebud. “Was it good for you?” Joe asked, completely dead-pan.
I hesitated, then gently squeezed my ass cheeks around his hard member and said weakly, “Yeah, it was great for me.”
“Good,” he said as he levered himself up and off the table. Did he even feel me try to grip his cock with my ass cheeks? “That takes care of the symptoms, now we have to address the cause.”
“The cause? But my Torquemada-designed office chair is the cause,” I said.
“Nope. I’ve seen this before. Turn back over on your stomach and I’ll show you,” he said.
After I did so, he gently pressed my hip-bone, my butt cheeks, and the muscles along my inner, upper thighs. “These points are notorious as pelvic stress points. If the cause canlı poker oyna of your stress is not resolved, these areas will tighten up again and return you to the painful condition you were in before.” As he turned away to retrieve a bottle from the side table, he asked, “Have you ever had a prostate massage?”
I blink in surprise. “Well, I’ve had a prostate exam,” I said suppressing a small shudder, remembering a crude intrusion with a rubber-gloved finger. “But I wouldn’t call it a massage.”
“No, no, this is something completely different. I learned it as part of my Tantric medicine studies. Would you be willing to try it?” he asked. Remembering the total relief this man had just brought me, I replied, “Sure, OK. I am in your hands.”
“Very good,” he replied. “Position yourself comfortably on the table, and spread your legs as wide as you can without them slipping off.” My erection had started to subside once I had turned over, but now it surged again at the thought of spreading my legs for this man’s ministrations. Especially since the ministrations would apparently involve having my back passage filled with his finger. “We’ll start in this position then eventually turn you over on your back. But you’ll need some extra support.”
With that, he fetched another towel, rolled it up and said, “Lift up a bit so I can put this under your pelvis.” I obediently lifted my butt in the air to make a gap under my groin. He quickly slid the roll beneath me, the back of one hand grazing my erection. He could not help but notice that I throbbed at his contact but he made no indication of the fact. I was beginning to catch on to his manner, the stance he was taking to maintain an air of professionalism despite the heavy sexual undercurrents taking place. The contrast between what was transpiring in the room and the way he was treating the situation made it all the more exciting for me. I decided to play along with this facade, but decided to add a twist.
“Dr. Lundquist … I mean Joe .. You said that you try to put your patients at ease by being dressed as they are, but I’m no longer wearing a towel. Would you mind removing yours so I would be more comfortable with this situation?” After the briefest hesitation and a probing look at my face, he said, “Of course,” and dropped his towel to the floor. He must have tied his towel originally to compress his cock as much as possible, for when the towel dropped away his erection sprang up in full glory. His cock was about the same size as mine, circumcised and his balls were drawn up tightly. This and the pre-cum glistening on his cock head were the first true indications to me that he was as turned on by the situation as I was. Neither he nor I gave any indication that his rigid shaft was anything out of the ordinary. Things “just pop up” during a massage, right? Right.
The implications then hit me hard: I was stretched nude on a table, my ass propped up in a totally lewd and inviting fashion, and a nude man with a steel-hard erection was about to begin sliding slippery fingers inside my back passage. My cock began throbbing at the possibilities.
Joe was again standing at the left of the table as he applied some clear gel to his fingers. “I try to keep this warm so it won’t be quite a shock, but I’m not always successful. Might feel cool on your skin.”, he warned. His finger gently applied the gel to my rosebud, and began to smooth it around. “I’m going to gradually introduce more and more gel inside you, while getting the muscles of your ring to relax as much as possible”, he said. “The key to this process is the gradual relaxation of your sphincter muscles, so the friction involved with the deep massage will bring no pain. As my finger enters you, try to push out with your muscles rather than clenching them. This will ease the process considerably.”
Again, the clinical discussion of such a lewd act was really turning me on. Due to the raised position of my butt, I had found it more comfortable to rest my head on my crossed arms, rather than keep them by my side. With my head turned to the left. I had a perfect view of Joe’s cock and the clear drop of fluid gathered at the tip. The jewel-like drop fascinated me as I felt Joe’s finger slowly enter my ass. He rotated it slightly, trying to expand my ring as he slid it further into me. He then withdrew it and applied more lube, then slid it home again. My practice sessions in the shower made this pretty easy for me, and his slow pace was very relaxing. After a few such forays, he began a slow in and out stroke with his finger. I suppressed a moan, but couldn’t keep myself from very subtly moving my ass in response to his thrusting finger.
“Is this comfortable for you?” he asked.
“Oh yes,” I sighed. “It’s very nice.”
“Good, let’s try to loosen things up even more.” With that, he applied more lube and started to introduce two fingers into me. My experiments in the shower had reached the three-finger stage, so two was not too much for me, especially as he went very internet casino slow and easy. When he felt I was comfortable with two fingers inside my ass, he again began to stroke them slowly in and out. This was too much for me to take passively. I began to breathe heavily and I could not help myself from moving my ass back against his stroking fingers, helping him finger-fuck me ….. I mean aiding in the massage process.
“Ah, you have relaxed completely with two fingers, I see. Very good. You’re responding very well to this technique. We’ll continue this for a while and then shift positions,” he said.
This was much better than when I tried to finger fuck myself. The angle of course makes things difficult when you try to do this yourself. When someone else is doing it , its heaven. I closed my eyes and began to imagine it was Joe’s slender cock plunging into my hole, rather than his fingers. This image made me groan aloud, and my movements became even more lustful as I vigorously met Joe’s finger thrusts with my own backward plunges. I was gasping and moaning steadily now, thoroughly caught up in the fantasy of being butt fucked by my doctor.
To help counteract my backward movements, Joe had moved closer to the head of the table so he could grasp the front edge with his left hand to give him leverage for his thrusting fingers. This brought his cock closer to my head and I saw that glistening drops of pre-cum had rolled down his shaft. This was becoming too much for me to handle. I tried to think of something to say that would keep things in the clinical mode he preferred, but all I could lamely come up with was, “You seem to have some stress points that need attending to, also.” Before he could reply, I reached out and grasped his turgid member and began to spread the pre-cum evenly around the shaft. His only response was a quick indrawn breath and a very subtle pumping of his cock through my grip. His fingers never missed a beat, though.
This was all the encouragement I needed. I twisted my shoulders around on the table and brought the head of his cock to my lips, letting my mouth slowly engulf it, laving my tongue across the head. I heard his almost silent groan as I then slipped 4 inches of his cock into my hungry mouth. The angle would not allow me to take more but I began to suck him with lustful abandon. He responded by speeding up the thrusting of his fingers in my hole. Here was yet another fantasy almost fulfilled: this must be what it’s like to be spit-roasted. A cock in my mouth, and a (fantasy) cock sliding up my ass. Through my fog of lust, I became aware of the lewd noises that we were making. His fingers were creating a moist squish with each down stroke and the heel of his palm was slapping against my ass. While my cock-hungry efforts produced slurping and sucking noises. These sounds made the experience even more exciting for me.
And for Joe as well evidently, for he abruptly pulled his throbbing penis out of my voracious mouth, as if he were barely keeping from coming. He had to take a ragged breath before he stated, “Now that you’re completely at ease with this method, let’s proceed to the massage.”
“What, that wasn’t the massage?” I mumbled as I wiped my lips dry.
“No indeed, that position doesn’t provide a good enough angle for me to massage your prostate. Please roll on your back.”
Joe had to help me by removing the rolled up towel and easing me onto my back, my shoulders were trembling so. He then helped me scoot down towards the end of the massage table, such that my butt was just at the edge. He explained this was necessary to provide him full access to my prostate. “Now pull your knees back to your chest and we’ll begin”, he said. My cock was still painfully hard and smeared with pre-cum and my hole felt empty and eager as he once again slid his fingers gently into me. This time I could feel him curve them slightly upward as he sought to rub my prostate. It was clear he knew exactly what he was doing as he found the perfect spot and began strumming his fingertips across it.
“Oh wow,” was all I could say.
“Yes …yes, I feel sure this is the source of all your tensions. Just let yourself relax and go with the flow.”
My back passage had become so loose and slippery that simply keeping it passively open was not providing enough sensation for me. I found that if I clenched my ring around his fingers as he withdrew them, then loosened up again on the in stroke, it felt absolutely wonderful. “That’s it,” he approved, “work with me on a rhythm.” I closed my eyes and fell back into fantasy mode. I imagined again that it was his cock filling me and stroking against my hot button. I imagined I was finally getting butt-fucked in the slow deep manner that I craved. My breath became ragged and moans escaped my lips. His fingers were stroking in a slower pace than when I was prone, and I began to feel this wonderful warmth permeating my entire groin area. It wasn’t a focused sensation like when my cock was stroked or sucked, but a more pervasive general glow that slowly grew and spread. I think Joe began to sense my growing pleasure for he suddenly gripped my rigid cock with his free hand and began to stroke it in alternate time to his finger strokes.
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