Living a porno! I didn't expect that!

As previously mentioned, my work (normally) takes me to the Middle East and the USA a fair bit.

Before Donald Trump rattled the Iranian cage and political tensions got a bit fraught, Tehran, was a frequent destination which I always liked. However, it's not somewhere I had any sexual experiences.

I stayed in a very upmarket 'business' hotel, enjoying all the little luxuries that go with such places. As part of my relaxation, I'd use the hotel 'spa' facilitates most days. Being Arab, men and women had separate facilities, and it was not uncommon to be the only person there. The gym might be busy, but the rest I usually had all to myself.

On previous occasions to this particular trip, I'd enjoyed massages in the spa. Unusually, the masseur I'd seen was local. In my experience it's a job most hotels would employ Indians or Filipinos because of religious and cultural constraints.

I feel quite sure the Masseur is a friend of the family, but I certainly don't like to push that door too much in the Middle East.

When having a massage, I much prefer to be naked, but some places insist you wear their paper pants. The first massage I had at this hotel, I had a swim, then relaxed in a quiet zone. I was handed a robe, so I was able to remove my wet shorts. I was then taken to a seat to have my feet soaked and massaged, before being taken to the rather lovely massage room.

Aware that I was still naked under my robe, and being cautious not to offend the masseur, I pointed out that I was still naked and asked if he was ok with that, giving him the opportunity to tell me different or offer some paper pants. However, he waved his arms in a dismissive way and said in broken English that naked was fine.

Cool with me, the robe came off and off we went.

So that was the first visit. For the next few visits, I knew he was ok with nudity, so didn't question it. The massages were always very good and in case you're wondering.... 'professional' :-)

The following post was maybe my 4th or 5th time there (I've edited out the original pre-amble).

....having done a few lengths of the pool ( a gentle breaststroke), I saw a side door open, which leads to the jacuzzi and Hammam area. The guy who appeared through the door was....amazing! Appox. 5ft 10, mid/late 30's, a mass of thick black hair...which was still quite neat despite his sweaty appearance. He was wearing only a very flattering pair of shorts, leaving his VERY well defined body available on full view. I assumed he was Arab, but also assumed he was a hotel guest, so probably not local. His perfectly formed chest was adorned with a swathe of dark hair, petering out towards his abs, save for a meaningful treasure trail heading into his shorts.

Of course, I didn't like to stare too hard and being to my side as I was swimming, I soon returned my gaze to the front. Fortunately, he headed in the right direction. Turned out it was his towel draped over the lounger at the end of the pool. As I approached, he picked the towel up and was started to dry himself. I didn't feel it appropriate to cling to the side watching him, so I turned reluctantly, and headed back.

Thankfully, its not a big pool...maybe 20 -25 metres, so it wasn't long before I turned again. He was standing side on, looking at his phone. As I headed back in his direction, he'd not acknowledged my existence with so much as a sideways glance, though he couldn't have avoided knowing I was there. So I was a bit surprised that when I was roughly half way back in his direction, he put down his phone, pick up his towel again, wrapped is round his waist and proceeded to remove his shorts. I briefly saw his naked arse.

Now, I can't say that his is the first naked arse I've seen.... BUT...there was something about this situation that made me come over all unnecessary, like a Victorian Gentleman getting a flash of a Lady's ankle. I'm sure I flushed!

With the towel still wrapped around his waist, with his phone and wet shorts in hand, he walked from whence he came, disappearing in the area of the changing room.

Well, it was a cheap thrill, which I enjoyed.

Not long later, I'd had enough of the swimming, but had about 20 minutes before my scheduled massage, so I took myself off to the hot jacuzzi (there was also a cold one) for a while.

Eventually, it was time to go and dry off, in time for the massage. The masseur would usually find me in the changing room, or the 'rest' area', so that was my intended route.

I'd got as far as donning the fluffy white robe when someone entered the changing room. Turning to look, I saw the hunk from the pool holding the door open, looking around. He was wearing black, snug fitting tracksuit bottoms and one of the Spa logoed polo shirts. Seeing I was the only person there, he walked towards me...frankly, looking a bit surly. 'Massage?' he asked.

In other circumstances, his lack of friendliness or approachability would have been quite off putting, but as it was, I gazed rather lovingly into his eyes, nodding and possibly dribbling. Facially the best famous person I can think of to liken him too is Colin Farrell...with a tan.

He acknowledged my nod by unwrapping a pair of those white 'hotel' slippers which he dropped at my feet. As I pushed my feet into them, he held out his hand with a small, plastic package, which I knew to be the dreaded paper pants.

I MAY have just taken them if it wasn't for the fact that his entire body language was saying, 'I've got these if you really want to put them on, but I couldn't give a toss'.

'Do you prefer I wear those? I asked politely.

For the first time...his face broke into an expression..which was 'quizzical'. Clearly his English is non existent or not very good. I repeated the question in simpler terms, adding some unofficial international sign language to help, which he seemed to get. He dropped his arm, shrugged, pulled that 'I don't care' face and indicated I should follow him.

By now, though physically sexy, I was beginning to feel disappointed that he couldn't even PRETEND to be friendly. Oh well. I was having a massage, not going on date...although the disappointment faded as I watched his hot tight buns leading the way to the massage room.

On the way, we passed the foot massage chairs. He did stop and in a rather muddled way, asked if I wanted my feet done there or as part of the massage. Again, his body language spoke volumes, as he wasn't hiding the fact that he didn't really want to bother with the chair. To be honest, I'm never that comfortable sitting on a raised chair while someone sits at my feet, washing them. So, it seemed with a mutual agreement...and a flash of a smile from him... we moved on to the massage room.

The room is quite large, considering it's use, but with cosy, dark colours and moderately soft lighting, it felt quite intimate. He closed...and locked ....the sliding door. I wasn't getting my hopes up at that being a sign, as the other fella did it too. Stepping behind me, he reached up to the shoulders of the robe, indicating that he would take it from me.

As the robe slid from my shoulders, I kicked the 'slippers' under the electric massage table as he patted the top of it, uttering 'Please', before hanging the robe.

As I lay myself down on the pre-prepared, fluffy towel covering the table, he busied himself doing something with his back to me. Typical, relaxing 'spa' type music drifted down from the ceiling. He turned to me and in a really uncertain way, asked if I was happy with the music. It was like he was suddenly lacking confidence because he couldn't converse with me properly. My knowledge of Arabic and Persian languages is limited to almost nothing...so he had nothing to feel awkward about, but what struck me was that his austere character seemed to have suddenly vanished. Laying there naked, as I was, I lifted my head, smiled nicely and said 'Yes, it's fine. Thank you'.

In no time at all, he was pouring warm oil on my back and started to smooth it in. The next thing to strike me was that he hadn't put a towel over me. Not that I was bothered in the slightest, but in most establishments, especially one such as this, I'd have expected a 'modesty' towel draped across my butt and legs, while he was working on my back. As I said, I didn't mind at all, but being in HIS hands, it was a minor turn on.

Anyway...I relaxed into moment, enjoying his strong hands smoothing out the tension of my back and neck. I made a conscious effort to not think about what a hot fella was running his hands over my naked body. He was good though. I have had hopeless hotel massages where the masseur seemed to be making it up as they went along.

Needless to say, I wasn't counting the minutes...but after maybe 10 or 15 minutes, he was standing the head end of the bench and started making long, sweeping strokes from my shoulders, down my back and on to the butt cheeks. So far, he'd worked on the small of my back but not ventured as far as my arse. It was VERY relaxing. I was really beginning to switch my mind off and simply enjoying the release of tension.

His hands never seemed to leave me. Even when changing position, his hands rested on me. So, from the end of the bench, working down the centre of my back, his next move was to my left hand side, from where his hands ran along the left side of my body and completely over my bum. Then sweeping back up gain, for another run down my side. This time, starting from my waist the attention was on my lower back and arse. 3 or 4 times he ran over the same spot.

Then again. Oop, that got a bit close to my crack.

Again. That WAS my crack.

Again. Hell, he's getting a bit personal now.

Again. He's just run his hand OVER my hole! Do I spread my legs a bit more? I decided I would. JUST a hint,so it's not an obvious invitation, but an indication that 'It's ok'.

His attention moved down very slightly so it was now centred around my left arse cheek in the top of my leg...however,....

...I just need to build the picture here. I'm laying face down with my arms naturally resting along my side, slightly wide apart, palms up. They'd kind of been been placed in that position earlier on, to make it easier to access the various muscles round the top of the arm/back.

....so where was I. Oh yes, he was kneading my arse/leg, having lightly brushed over my hole, when I was suddenly distracted by something gently resting in the palm of my hand. My fingers twitched a little, while I thought for a moment if it really was his package, or something else. Well... it was definitely the smooth fabric of his track suit and I couldn't think of anything else that would fit in my palm in such a way.

I suppose, when the bench is at that height...and you're moving about.....? It's bound to happen by accident, sometimes. Isn't it???

It was all I could do to NOT have a proper feel. Ordinarily, I'd not have been so hesitant, but I was acutely aware of the laws of the country I was in..and until now, any signals were all potentially accidental or in my head. The brushing of my arsehole did seem more than an accident though.

Anyway, he moved on down my leg. Well, UP and down my leg, with the occasional 'up motion' going so far as to gently brush my balls. By now, I was physically relaxed (apart from my dick which was trying to make a break for freedom) but my head was buzzing. I was genuinely not sure how to take the naughty touching, his package in my hand, the perceived discouragement of using paper pants, the lack of 'modesty' towel. Was I adding 1+1+1+1 and making 5?

Either way, he was now at the bottom end of the bench, pulling my toes about, so I just continued to go with it. Whatever else...I was enjoying the experience.

Foot and toes done, I felt his hands run 'respectfully' up my body, where he moved to my right hand side and started the process again, working initially on my torso then the midway position from the waist, over my arse...with more hole brushing which definitely felt firmer and more deliberate this time. I was most definitely feeling more aroused when his hand swept into the crack of my arse...slowed right down (as my legs spread a little more) and his thumb (I think), pressed into my hole...stopping there, gently rotating in tiny circles.

Oh my! Nothing accidental about that.

With that...my attention was drawn to my right hand. Again, the palm was full, but it felt different. I couldn't resist, I contracted my fingers to encompass whatever it was. Fuck! It was his naked package this time. I was sure, but I HAD to look.

Opening my eyes, I lifted my head, turned to my right... and there he was...completely naked.

Oddly, my first thought was how the hell did he get all his clothes off without me noticing, given his hands never seemed to leave my body? Needless to say, I didn't ponder on the mystery too long. I can't deny I was shocked. I simply WAS NOT EXPECTING ANYTHING TO HAPPEN, yet now it was like I was in middle of a porn film.

With his left hand now resting motionlessly in the crack of my arse, his right hand kind of aimlessly stoking my mid back, and his semi erect penis and ballsack resting in my hand, he looked down at me and almost apologetically asked, "It's Ok?" What else could I say, but 'Yes, Of course".

My attention then focused on the contents of my hand. I was in a mildly awkward position, but able to move my fingers about enough to rotate his gonads about in their bag.

While briefly admiring the view and appreciating the moment (I hadn't got as far as 'What happens now'?) what crossed my mind was the question 'Was he expecting me to pay for any extra service?'

I have never yet paid for sex, but the point here was that I didn't need money in Iran, so I didn't have any. The hotel was cashless. Anything like a massage HAD to go on the room account. He would know that. It's not like I even had anything more than few £'s in my room.

It did feel a bit of a dilemma. On one hand, I was going to have a tough time explaining that I was neither prepared, nor able, to pay him personally for 'extra's, but on the other hand, he would have known the cash situation, so maybe he just fancied having sex with me...and who was I to say 'no' to that???

Maybe he noticed how distant I seemed for a few moments..because he moved up to my head and rather gently stroked it with his right hand while working up that last little bit of erection with his left. I couldn't twist my head round enough to look up at him, but my view was now full of his groin at close quarters. In terms of size, it's 'very average', was also a very pretty, cut penis. A slight, upward curve, smooth warm caramel coloured skin, with a hint of veins, and a perfectly proportioned head. It fitted all rather neatly into my mouth, so I discovered as he slowly eased my head to the side and inserted his freshly hardened cock into my gaping mouth. I had to lift myself on to my elbows to be at the right angle to swallow the entire length....blissfully LOVING the sensation of his black pubic bush on my face. There was a long, slow, breathy, 'Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhgh' as he held my head against him, obviously enjoying the space he was filling in my throat. Frankly, if it wasn't for the fact that breathing was proving difficult, I could have slept there. I was truly in a happy place.

However, contrary to a popular misconception, oxygen ranks more highly than deepthroating, when push comes to shove. He seemed in no rush to move, enjoying the tableau we found ourselves in, as much as I was enjoying it ...but I had to breath. I lifted myself slight higher and twisted towards him. Using my right hand to take hold of his beautiful manhood I continued to give it more mouth action, especially enjoying sucking on his nob end like it was a lollipop. In my eagerness to enjoy him more, I turned my body further towards him. The move had the effect of exposing an exasperated swelling which had been trying to escape from under me for a while. He immediately leaned in its direction to take it in his hand. I was conscious then, that he didn't move..to the point that he was so still, I looked up to see what was going on. This close to his naked torso with his delightful man meat in my hand and his head turned to focus on my meat in his....he was quite a vision.

Of course, I'd seen him earlier, in the pool area, but I'd been so taken by the flash of his bum cheeks, I'd almost forgotten about the rest of his body. My face was just inches way from is tight, smooth abs and his stunning, hair embellished, chest.

He was still holding my member...holding it still, but seemed entranced by it....his focus, unwavering for the moment. I leaned towards him and breathed in his faint, fresh scent before gently planting a kiss on his smooth hip.

Everything had been calm, slow, gentle and soft. My head was swimming.

The kiss seemed to bring him 'back to the room'. Bending almost sideways..so leaving his groin more or less square on to my face, he leaned over and gulped in my waiting dick. Whatever his reason or motivation for bringing things this far....I certainly wasn't going to put a stop to anything now, though I'd no idea where it might lead. Coming as such a genuine surprise, I had no expectations. If he WAS expecting some kind of financial reward though, he was going to be disappointed.

Propped up on one elbow, I was posed like Cleopatra on a chaise long. My tool was accessible to him but it wasn't the best position to be in. He'd did that thing you do with a Mr Whippy Ice cream, where you put as much as you can in your mouth, close your lips round it, then draw it out, taking a thin layer of the ice cream as you go, until your lips meet at the top. I watched him do that 3 or 4 times, jerking me a few times in between each taste. (maybe I was precumming?) before resuming my own taste test on him. However, more or less laying flat on my back it was a bit awkward having to lift and twist my head to get my chops round his phallus, so I rested my head on the table and breathed in his hairy low hangers instead. With a mouth full of hairy gonads and holding his dick to my face while he gave attention to my throbbing erection, the sexual excitement and tension in me was mind blowing in that moment. I felt like I was living in a porno. 'Happy Endings' from masseurs may not exactly be uncommon, but here, in this setting, in this Country, with experience of his previous, dour demeanour, I simply didn't see it coming, despite him being the stuff of fantasy....and I think that's what made it SO hot.

It didn't end there. By rolling on to my back and him still standing beside the massage table, with his balls in my mouth, he was having to stretch a little too far to consume my fleshy stave, because without warning, his body/balls moved backwards, away from me, out of my reach. His left knee appeared on the edge of table as his right leg swung over my head and came to rest kneeling on the opposite side of me. From there, he lowered his junk back into my mouth, then resting on his forearms, 69'd me...almost resting his body on top of mine. He was hovering so closely, i could feel his chest hair mingling with the fur on my body. I was so turned on...every minute touch felt electric. Much as I was in heaven, I would like to have been able to see him in that position...because I was wondering what his arse was like. I'd only seen it so very briefly, and in a state of disbelief at the time. I knew it was a nice shape, from the walk to the massage suite, but uncovered....??

I was straining my head back to take his organ as best I could. He was making short thrusts with his hips as I opened my throat to allow a little more action from him.

His action on my jewel collection was getting quite rough. Fortunately, I can take a bit of heavy handedness, so it was ALL working for me.

Rimming is one of those sexual activities that varies massively from person to person.

I tend to be not at all interested (...and they're generally the guys I don't write about!!), or I can't get enough of it. I'm sure don't really need to explain how much I wanted to part the peachy buns hovering just inches away from my face...but the idea became a bit all consuming. With his knees spread either side of my head, he was in a variation of 'child pose' (yoga) in order to use me for his pleasure, but the position did mean I could reach my arms round his legs to take an arse cheek in each hand. Initially stroking them lightly, I was aware of some fairly fine hair (If is arse had thicker, black hair, like on chest and legs, I'm sure I might have noticed earlier). Resting my hands more firmly on his glutes, I could feel the movement of the muscles as he rocked his hips back and forth. The sensation in my hands, which created a mental image of RIPPLING buns fucking my face, resulted in the horn level being stepped up a notch.

Much as I was enjoying the moment (the continual moments), I wasn't at my most comfortable. I twisted my head sideways in order to release his invasion of my mouth, and instantly sucked his hirsute scrotum into the now vacant space. I REALLY had to be exercise some self control...because the intoxicating assault (albeit a welcome assault) on all of my senses was getting the better of me. I wanted to BITE into him. Biting his balls probably wouldn't go down too well!!

I could see the dark line of his crack. SO close.

For fear of losing control and doing him some damage to his manhood, I reached my arms back under his torso, placed my hands on his muscular pecs and pushed him upwards. Well, I pushed. I was never going to actually lift him, but after a few attempts, he got the message and sat up. Obviously, not sure why I was trying to lift him from me, I shuffled myself a couple of inches further up the table while now placing my hands on his hips to 'push' him down this time. He willing obliged to follow my signal, until the canyon of desire was close enough to lift my head and violate. The position he was now in meant his arse cheeks were automatically spread far enough apart that I could comfortably immerse myself in the dark, hair lined space hiding his pucker. I lashed out with my tongue, which caused him to flinch, faintly. I'm not sure if it was the surprise of the moment, or a new experience for him, but either way, I held him in place....not that I actually think he was going anywhere. Face and tongue now positioned, I renewed the pressure on his hips, directing him down while lowering my head, until he was properly siting on my face. God it was good. However, he quickly lifted himself off me slightly...perhaps thinking he was sitting too heavily. With more effort, I pushed him down again...and then gave him an extra little 'shove' as if to say 'No, no, no. I WANT you to sit on my face...so STAY there'.

I was incapable of doing much except flicking my tongue about his annulus whilst drawing air (any lack of oxygen would inevitably shorten the activity), but with my hands still on his hips, I tried pushing him in different directions...encouraging him to grind his arse into my face. He got it....just, vaguely moving his tush about. Heavenly.

I blindly reached my hands up his body, not aiming for anything in particular. Running my fingers through his chest hair, I felt his hands place themselves on top of mine. My right hand was help tightly in place, on his chest. My left hand, he slowly slide down his body until I felt the tip of his erect cock against my wrist. I had to bend my wrist rather awkwardly to take hold of his VERY stiff pecker, but once firmly in my grip, I was able to fondle his cock, balls and groin, properly, for the first time, sensing the textures of soft warm skin, throbbing cock, hair and pendulous balls...all slowly gyrating about.

His left hand let go of mine and caringly moved along my body, through my pubic bush until once again, he took possession of my swollen tool. Some cut men do seem to like playing with my dick like it's some curio. Perhaps it IS just curiosity about the ease with which I can be masturbated, with the skin effortlessly sliding back and forth. Whatever it is...I'm not complaining. In that moment, it dawned on me - he must be left handed. An odd thing to think about at that moment...but there we go!!!

As he started to jerk me off quite earnestly, without thinking about it I raised my knees and opened them wide, perhaps subconsciously 'exposing' my genitals to him more. There was another short burst of vigorous wanking. His right hand moved from his chest, took my left hand between his legs and pressed it firmly, motioning to rub him.

Maybe it was the lack of oxygen received while his gyrating butt smothered my face, but I was getting a bit dis-coordinated. My right arm was now waving about in the air, my left hand was awkwardly tossing him off and my entire head was pretty much immobile. I was in that strange place of loving every minute of what was happening, but at the same time, feeling that I (we) could be enjoying it more...but for the moment we continued as we were.

It wasn't long before there was a change of pace. He'd quickly wank my cock 4 or 5 times, taking his fist well over the nob head, right down to the base, then run his hand over my balls and press a finger a short way into my hole before returning to my cock and repeating the process a few times. Again...it was more or less a subconscious move, but I raised my bent legs into the air...lifting my feet from the massage table. The improved access to my hole meant he started to push his finger in deeper, the residual oil from the massage making it a smooth, easy process.

(edited to add that this happened before I was taking PrEP. It was VERY rare that I'd BB at this time)

Until this point I'd not given any though to the possibility of anal sex (frankly, I'd not had TIME to think about it). Being versatile, I'm usually comfortable which ever way anal may go (ideally, flipping). I can take the lead or let someone else do it...it's all fine with me. However, each time his finger disappeared up my jacksie, with the sensation becoming more enjoyable each time, the more I wanted HIM inside me. Fucking him would be a bonus, but I WANTED him pounding my arse.

The last time I felt so sure about wanting a particular person to fuck me was the first time I met TXTraveler, but it didn't happen that time. (edited note; TXTraveler is reference to someone on dudesnude.com)

I wasn't 'prepared', though, given the time of day I figured I should be ok (I don't need to explain further, do I?) and I somehow doubted he had condoms to hand. I did have a bit of a battle with the idea of him BB'ing me as I didn't know this guy from Adam. Maybe he was doing this sort of thing every day? He certainly wasn't a novice, though I had the feeling he wasn't terribly experienced. With all sorts of thoughts going round in head...mostly connected with enjoying the moment....I pushed thoughts of anal sex aside, thinking that I wouldn't actively encourage it...BUT...if it happened, I wouldn't stop it.

We'd been in this position for several a minutes now. There was no sign of him moving but it was REALLY getting uncomfortable, so I took the initiative to move things along by lowering my legs, taking hold of his hips again and 'pulling' him from my face. He reacted to the move quickly (as though he was waiting for something to happen), and 'vaulted' himself off the table, landing more or less where he'd started, his groin squarely in front of my face. I raised myself on to my left elbow and twisted myself towards him, put my right arm round his waist and pulling him in tight, I attached my mouth to his chest, like a limpet. He immediately puffed his chest up and clamped my head against the muscled mound. His nipple is small but pert. I bit on to it gently as I heard a deep intake of breath. I nuzzled him, playing with his nipple and even enjoy the feel of his chest hair on my face. (I'm guessing it's a throw back to a happy childhood. It wasn't uncommon when very young, that I would lay/sleep on my dad as he sat watching TV on a Sunday evening, liking the sensation of his chest hair on my face). I moved my right arm from is waist, down to his booty. Squeezing and stoking, It was my turn to slide my hand in between his cheeks and finger his hole. It was warm and wet. Using two fingers, I eased his opening apart before maneuvering inside, until a reached the barrier he would need to relax before I could go any further.

Perhaps, not wishing to go there, he sprung in to action and manhandled me on to my knees. As previously alluded to, I usually take the lead with a guy and CAN progress to being quite dominant if it happens naturally (pre-determined roles like that don't really work for me), but equally, if a guy has the passion/desire or self confidence to take command...I'm perfectly happy with that too.

So....I guessed what what coming. I desperately hoped that un-douched, all was going to be ok. It could have been such a passion killer!

As he climbed back on to the end of the table, pushing my legs apart in the process, he wiped his hand in my crack. Turned out he was adding some more oil.

Without delay or ceremony, he pulled himself close in to me, placing his hot blooded erection into the space his hand had just vacated, proceeding to slide it over my hole repeatedly. Then adjusting himself on to one knee...he positioned his throbbing nob head over my pucker and started to push. This is where it all became a bit of a mind fuck. I had to imagine the sight of the handsome, lascivious hunk of a man invading my butt.... and bare back too. I closed my eyes and pictured the scene as I felt him pushing against the temporary resistance of my sphincter, not yet fully adjusted to anything as large as even an average sized prick. I put my hand back to stop him pushing through too quickly. He waited.....I paused, then as I felt things relaxing I began to rock back and forth, taking him deeper inside me, at my pace, until that BLISSFUL moment when everything falls in to place, the 'gates' open and it feels like he's sliding a pole of joy through the entire length of my body, such is the rhapsodic sensation charging through me, until I genuinely felt it had reached my throat.

I let out a long groan which prompted him to lean forward and cover my mouth. Of course, not thinking about where we were, it was possible we could be heard. Unlikely, because of the specific location of the massage room...but possible. I immediately realised his concern, but even so, I opened my mouth wide and wrapped my lips round a few fingers, sucking on them with pleasure, despite the feint taste of oil.

He obviously thought I hadn't got his reason for covering my mouth as I heard him say, in his rich, low, sexy voice. 'No speaking...er...because....' I nodded and gave him a 'thumbs up' to signal I'd understood. With that, he withdrew his fingers from my mouth and taking hold of my hips, started some good, old fashioned, rhythmic fucking, letting out a sound like he was sucking air through his teeth and then letting out a long breathy 'Ahhhhhhhhhh'. It was a good deal quieter than my groan.

We didn't actually go on like that for very long at all. There was no way I was going to miss watching him orgasm as he shoots a spunky load inside me. Not that there was any indication of that happening imminently, but equally, I wasn't going to take that chance.

It was maybe a couple of minutes of fairly continuous shafting before I put my arm back to stop the motion, before gently pulling away from him...unhitching myself from the end of his nob. Obviously, he wasn't sure why I'd stopped the proceeding, so I quickly flipped onto to my back...took a quick look at his dick to make sure it was 'ok' (it was), and lifted my legs in the air. No further guidance was needed. Leaning forward, my legs forced further over my head by his shoulders, he swiftly guided his ram rod back into my open hole and placing his arms either side of me to hold his weight....he fucked. It was such a horny sight. With every stoke, I wanted to let out another loud groan of approval. Instead, I looked into his beautiful eyes and limited the noise to gaspy breaths. Occasionally, in not much more than a whisper, I'd mutter something imaginative along the lines 'yeah...fuck me'. At least, by keeping it simple, he seemed to understand as his fuck action increased intensity. I reached up feel his chest, squeeze his nipples, pull his fantastic head of hair (hair envy) and hold his throat. He would periodically stop briefly, making minor adjustments to his position, before continuing. I SO wanted to kiss him, but that ball was very much in his court. Again, I was fairly helpless in what I could do. I couldn't even wank myself effectively as my jewels were mostly hidden in the depths of my folded body.

As I looked down our bodies, between my legs, the light wasn't bright, but I could easily make out the rise and fall of his coffee coloured assault weapon and dark pubic bush as he thrust into me. Each plunge as intense as the one before, until his shifting about started to become a distraction for him. In essence, I think it was the towel on the table, moving and stopping him from keeping his position. In the end....I enjoyed his body close to mine, but by the look of determination on his face, it seemed clear to me that this was now a fuck to completion.

In broken English, I instructed him to move down the table and stand at the end. Obediently he shuffled backwards until he was able to step on the floor. Keeping my position, I wriggled towards him. He got the drift...took hold of my calves and pulled me towards him...until my arse was JUST overhanging the end of the table. With him standing, it was the perfect height for him to plough in to me properly and left me in a less folded up position so my own spunk gun was also more accessible. Again, without further ado...and perhaps even more enthusiasm, he guided his hard throbbing cock back inside me and immediately resumed the business of banging my arse. He got a grip of my legs holding them apart, in the air. He watched his cock ploughing into the depths of my anal canal. He made subtle changes to the speed and depth of his stroke, from a series long slower ones...which felt good in my butt, to shorter, faster, deeper ones which worked for the dirty talk going on in my mind. I was gritting my teeth with the desire for his use of my body.

The heat was rising for sure.

He let go of my legs, which continued to wave about in the air as he wrapped his hands under my legs and pulled my thighs to bring my arse and his groin even closer together...so he could hammer in to me. When he wasn't glancing down at the action, watching himself pump my arse, enjoying the sight of his meatus sliding effortlessly in and out...he was staring me in the eyes. The new position brought with it some renewed energy, spurred on by a macho aggression. It had been a good move to turn when I did. I felt certain he was rapidly working towards a climax.

His lips had formed a sneering curl, as his head tilted back slightly so he was looking down his nose at me. His eyes narrowed. His demeanor told me I was now nothing more than a piece of meat to be used.

Starting off with that 'Use me' tag isn't something I do or aim for...however, in the moment and when it happens, it's fucking hot. The 'dirty' expression on his face and his increased assertiveness...banging away at me, not just with his hip thrusts, but now with his whole body...it was final push I needed.

I still had some level of control with regard shooting my load..but it was there, ready to go. I could feel my balls were tighter and my whole groin was twitching in anticipation. I didn't want to bother with verbal conversation as I felt that anything other than the obvious... 'Ah, fuck! Yeah'...type talk, might distract him. Instead, I resorted to more obvious, non verbal signs to indicate I was ready to go. Small fast hip tilts.... almost like thrusting (enough to notice but not enough to stop his relentless abuse of my hole); exaggerating the leg twitching; the grunts and breathing picking up pace and pitch, that intense open mouthed look of concentration, the occasional roll of the eyes. Nothing was unreal...just exaggerated at times.

It worked. His body tightened and pursed lips added to the scowl. His eyes were widening and it looked as though he was beginning to shake. He started growling. Real growling. It was still low and quiet but in every respect the animal in him was taking over.

Quite suddenly, the veins in his neck stood out as his mouth opened and his fuck action slowed from frantic, to long, hard, deep, deliberate strokes, slapping into me. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and the growl took on and even deeper, throatier note, as he was clearly pumping his creamy, hot Arab seed inside me.

At the first obvious signs of his impending orgasm, I tightened my grip and vigorously wanked my meat to catch up. I wanted to have my orgasm while his cock was still inside me, massaging my prostate. It took no time at all, In a matter of seconds, I too was in the throws of ecstasy as I shot a stream of jizm on to my throat, quickly followed by a number of shorter squirts. I desperately held my focus on him..not wanting to miss a moment of his climax. It detracted from that completely internalised, blinding sense of orgasmic nirvana, when even a nearby atom bomb would go unnoticed, however, it was worth it, The x-rated scene of him temporarily lost in his own world, while ejecting the spunk from bis awesome, masculine, powerful body, into mine...was just fantastic. Even as the pace slowed, it felt like he was pushing the cum out of me, my hand action just helping along the way.

There are small moments and gestures which can take a memorable experience to the next level. His balls spent, his body and face relaxed, he was aware that I was still running a few seconds behind him. I had reached my peak but was still eeking out the last drops of sperm. He continued gently rocking back and forth inside me but contemplating the mess on my torso, he lazily placed his left hand on my abdomen and ran his hand through the cum and over my body...smiling a cheeky sideways smile, all the way. No rushing for tissues to mop the mess up, just an enjoyment of the end result.

By the time he had caressed up my body and snaked his way down it again, I was done, fairly collapsing back on the bed as he pushed my legs...indicating I should move back on the table properly so my legs wouldn't be left dangling. But what surprised me next (the man that keeps on giving) is that once I was laying fully on the massage table, he climbed on to the table too, worked his way up it like a prowling leopard, until his body was aligned with mine and then gently lowered himself on top on me. He buried his face in the nape of my neck and wrapped his arms protectively round both our heads. He was heavy, but fabulously so. I wrapped my arms around his waist and enjoyed simply touching him.

It felt unbelievable. To think of his seeming indifference to me earlier in the day, to this man who was laying in my embrace, his seed inside, mine drying between us, his softening cock pressed into my leg and his warm breath like a gentle breeze on my neck.

It was only a couple of minutes we lay there as still as could be, until he effectively did a press up to lift himself from me...the stickiness on our abdomens lightly tugging at our body hair, his muscled arms either side of my head, momentarily holding his body over mine, face to face. For the 2nd time that day, I swear I had a hot flush.

An odd thing...by the time he was standing back on the floor, he was (almost) the professional masseur again. He asked if I was OK. I nodded and gave a look that said,

'Duh! Why the fuck wouldn't I be?''

Not that I was about to move, but he put his hand on my chest as if to say, 'Stay there'. He took a small towel from a side unit and proceeded to clean the cum from me first, then himself. He then quickly dressed ...and pointed out that he hadn't finished the massage of my right leg??????? (Like I was going to complain to the management). However, even though I was now on my back, rather than my front, as before, he finished my right leg.

As I lay there, I puzzled the contrariety of his character. I genuinely didn't know what to make of him. The conundrum wasn't helped by the conversation we had as I sat on the side of the massage table, just before leaving. As I sat up, still naked, he stood before me and quite earnestly asked again, if everything was ok and if I was happy. (When I say 'conversation', it wasn't flowing. It was very basic Pidgeon English). I had to broach the subject of any anticipated 'extra' payment' over and above the hotels charge for a massage. He cut me short, waving his arms in front of me, saying 'No, No. No!' in such a way that it was like my question was an affront to his service.

The rest of my short time with him was uneventful, rather like the end of ANY massage. There's nothing sexual to add, but the story doesn't quite end there. As I was leaving, I mentioned that the next day was my last day before I was due to fly home and I already had another massage booked. He explained that it would be with the usual masseur as he only works as the masseur when the regular guy is off. The rest of the time he works in the gym (No wonder I'd not seen him before. I never venture into gyms). However, when I turned up the next day, having pondered him on so many levels, for the previous 24 hours, there he was, back in his role as the masseur.

In short, 'something' had happened that morning and he'd had some kind of disagreement with the boss. As a result, this was to be his last day working at the hotel. I never really got to the bottom of what it was about, but he looked completely dejected, so I asked if he would prefer not to give me a massage (even though I was paying for it). He said it was ok to carry on, but awkwardly asked if I minded if it wasn't 'the same' as the day before. Of course I did't mind, but I felt slightly awkward about the whole thing. Still....I lay naked on the table and had an excellent, non erotic, massage anyway.

Post massage, I asked what he was going to do. He thought maybe another hotel in the city centre, but he obviously had not real idea. I felt for him.

I told him how sorry I was at his misfortune, and wished him luck. He held out his arms, effectively asking for a hug. I held him close as his head rested on my shoulder. We stayed like that for a couple of minutes, but as we separated, he thanked me, kissed me on the lips, opened the door, and off I went.

As I passed reception, I was asked how the massage was. I didn't want to gush too much, but I answered, 'Excellent thank you. He's extremely good and a credit to the spa. I shall look forward to next time''.

I don't suppose for a minute it made any difference to his fate, but I hope that wherever he goes, he's ok.

Picture. me with a summer FB