Curtis' Massage

Curtis was a tough nut to crack. I’d told him about the massage scene after his solo shoot, but he didn’t seem too interested. He didn’t flat-out say no, but it wasn’t until a big bill came due that suddenly the chunk of cash waiting on the other side changed his mind.

He’s gotten “regular” massages before, but never a happy-ending despite having lived in a country well known for its high-end erotic rub-downs. Of course, it wasn’t the fear of getting one that held him back. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to even get hard with a guy doing the job. Well, that concern was quickly extinguished.

Even laying face down on the table, Curtis’ cock was growing stiffer every time my hands made their way between his legs. His rock hard ass and crack was quite a treat; a nice, furry forest nestled between two muscular slabs of meat.

On the front side, it was like rubbing down a washboard with a hard-on. Curtis didn’t make much noise until suddenly, as I was stroking his dick, his eyes opened slightly.

“You better slow down.”

I edged Curtis a little longer before ramping him up for take-off. His breathing got progressively deeper, letting out little moans as he got closer and closer. He had saved up for a couple days, but even he was surprised at how far he shot. A huge stream of cum flew all the way up to his shoulder while he convulsed on the table and covered his stomach in jizz.