Erotic gay massage stories
Male on Male Massage
Well, I did it. I finally worked up the nerve to visit a male masseuse who was advertising on Craig list. When I started exchanging emails with him, I was trying to sort out whether or not there would be any action. The clincher for me was when I asked if draping was optional. He said..."of course". He said all of his clients lay nude on the table. So I set up an appointment for that afternoon.
It was a private residence so after a knock on the door he answered with a smile and said "c'mon in". He asked that I remove my shoes by the door and I must say, I had a complicated time doing so as I was kind of nervous...and it showed. It didn't take drawn-out for him to make me notice comfortable, however. After a bit of small talk, he directed me to a large converted bedroom. The massage table was in the middle of the room and it was dimly lit. He said, "remove your clothes and lay on your stomach and we'll get started."
I removed my socks, shirt and started on my pants...but he interrupted me by walking up and undoing my belt and zipper. I was going "commando" so my pants dropped to the floor fast. I was standing there
Massage by Lou
It had been a drawn-out day. A six hour plane drive, then a bumpy jeep ride to the site and an hour of climbing around during the inspection had left Paul exhausted and stiff. After a good dinner of the local food he was back in his hotel room. He tried to lounge down on the bed but create he just couldn't relax.
"I wonder if this place has a masseuse on the staff," he mused. Hoping the night shift would speak some English, Paul dialed the front desk. "Er, yes, pronto," he replied to the Spanish greeting, having no luck.
"Er, tee any el hotel un masseuse?" he tried. The rejoin indicated a lack of understanding.
"Key aro massage," he attempted. That seemed to have more success.
"Louise gives massage, you say?" he repeated the clerks answer.
"Bueno. Send up Louise," he concluded.
He glanced at himself in the mirror, and stopped to dash a comb through his hair. "I hope Louise is pretty," he idea. "That would be better than an older, motherly type."
He heard a knock at the door. Opening it, he saw a slim young man with the dark Indian features typical of the country, holding what appeared to be a doctor's bag.
"Buenos noches, senor," said the adolescent man, smiling. "
Boyishly Handsome Masseur and the Straight Man
I am a married man, who has recently come to terms with the fact that I am bisexual, but, in trying to persist faithful to my marriage vows, made a choice not to act upon my urges to include sex with men.
However, a couple of years ago I came across a website that lists massage therapists all over the world, by type of massage they offer and city, and in my mind, figured that having a sensual massage would be a way of having some male contact, without "going out and having sex". Splitting hairs, I know - but that's a whole other story, and not for discussion here.
About a year ago, I saw the profile of a masseur who lives very adjacent to me, who sounded perfect. His name is Chris. He gives a combination legitimate/sensual massage. His picture was gorgeous, and the reviews written by previous clients were glowing. I needed to depart at a time when my whereabouts would not be questioned, so when I was available one day, I finally plucked up the courage to call him, but he was not available. I almost breathed a sigh of relief - figured it was a indicate, and stopped contemplating the idea - at least for the time being.
Then about
After the rain: a gay massage story
Below is a fictional lgbtq+ massage story contributed by our writer. It is written from the point of view of a gay masseur.
After the rain: a gay massage story
It rained and rained, until I started to feel as if I had a water feature installed in my balcony. The soothing sound of rain I could get used to, but stepping outside was always a thoroughly miserable affair. I had recently acquired a sturdy new umbrella, but no amount of waterproofing could protect my light summer shoes from getting soggy with rainwater.
However, now the skies had cleared somewhat, and as I stepped indoors after returning from a bike ride, I was pleased to see that my feet remained perfectly dry. Placing my fabric trainers on the shoe rack, I dropped my gaze to my wristwatch: I had an hour. A whole, luxurious hour. Unbelievable.
The anticipation
Off went the sweat-soaked hoodie and t-shirt, and I flashed myself a cheesy grin in the bathroom mirror: hello, handsome. I had stepped up my game at the gym and it did show: my arm muscles were acquiring a good tone and the six pack was more defined by the day. I stepped into the shower and a cool stream of fluid made me