Several years ago I was into running—a lot. The release of endorphins was amazing, but being in my 30s I noticed that I was always really sore after long weekend runs. My wife, who was a competitive triathlon at the time, suggested I visit her masseuse to see if that would help with the soreness.

I had always known that she saw a guy named Jay and he had “magic hands” as she said, but I didn’t know if she’d mind me seeing “her” guy or what, so i just asked her to just book me an appointment for that Saturday and left it at that. The week passed, I finished my Saturday run, and she reminded me that she had booked a 90-minute appointment with Jay for 4pm. I was a little conflicted because on one hand I couldn’t wait to get rid of some nagging soreness, but on the other hand I wasn’t sure what Jay would think about massaging my wife’s “other half,” or if he’d give me the release I was looking for—or just tease me to death with his “magic hands.”

To his credit, he was super professional, asked a lot of questions, then left the darkened room for me to “undress to my comfort level,” before knocking to ensure I was under the clean linen. I could immediately see why my wife enjoyed his sessions as he had me start face down, dropped the sheet to near waist level, and began long, slow, warm strokes down my spine and around my shoulder blades. He took time to stretch each arm above my head and massage all the way from shoulder to wrist, gently placing each arm back and —almost imperceptibly—just holding my wrist long enough as he stepped toward the table to brush what I imagined was his hip each time he replaced my hand. It was barely noticeable as I couldn’t see anything but the dark carpet with my face in the padded hole of the massage table, but I got a tingle that this might be where the “magic” comes from. My wife and I both love to be teased with gentle touches, ones that make you wonder whether they were intentional or not. I was feeling super relaxed as he finished my back and slid the sheet up yo my neck before lifting one leg and draping the sheet tightly across my glute and under the other leg.

I felt a slight warmth in my groin and felt my cock begin to swell as his warm oiled hand slid from my hip to my ankle, swirling and pressing, finding each knot and stress point along the way. I was so relaxed as his hands did their thing that I started to drift off to sleep, vaguely recalling that he had switched legs and I felt a cool breeze on my taint as he switched the sheet. This only excites me a bit more and I couldn’t stop the growing chub from nearing a full-fledged raging boner.

Just as he finished releasing all of the tension from my feet, I would swear I felt him brush his cock against my foot as he slipped up to the head of the table and said, “OK, let’s work on the front—go ahead and roll over and I’ll hold the sheet up for you.” Now coming out of deep relaxation to realize I’m about to roll over and sport a tent, I had the presence of mind to open my eyes a bit—and even in the darkness, I could see he was pitching a tent of his own through his tight joggers. I didn’t say a word, but thought to myself “holy shit, this might be awkward!” but couldn’t help the blood flow that was engorging my cock relentlessly.

After he placed a cushion under my knees, he smoothed the sheet from my knees to my neck, running his hands on both sides of my now obviously raging hardon. Hoping to avoid the awkwardness, I said “sorry about that, I guess you just really relaxed me” as I glanced downward to my cock standing proudly under the sheet as I was flat on my back. “No problem,” he said, as he grabbed my wrist from under the sheet and began to raise it above my head as he moved to the head of the table. Reflexively, my hand opened and he placed it directly on his swollen bulge, saying “Yeah, I guess I was relaxed, too,” then stepped off to the side and continued the massage.

To make a long story short, the next 30 minutes felt like torture as each sweep of his warm oily hands down my chest, stomach and legs only churned up the blood that was pumping into my cock, and despite the deep relaxation and easing of stress, it made me hotter and hornier with each touch. it was almost too much as he worked my hip flexors, boldly brushing my cock and balls as he adjusted the sheet, once actually squeezing my cock as he rearranged everything.

As he ended the massage at my head, i felt him several times bump my shoulders with his hard cock, effortlessly holding a conversation and holding that professional air about him. i wanted so badly for him to give me a happy ending, and i would have gladly reciprocated, but this wasn't that kind of spa, and he wasn't going to risk his job….or so i thought.

As he finished, he said that i could benefit from some "additional work" and that he would be happy to bring his table and make a house call, so i took his number and let him know to count on my call. It turned out Jay knew exactly what i wanted, and our texting over the next two days left no doubt what i wanted. He opened the door by texting "pick one spot you want to work the most and send me a pic," so i obliged with the best dick pic i had. His response was, "Perfect. i have just the thing to make it feel magical"

And he sure as hell did….a story for another time.