◄ Naked Day Rear Entry ►

He needed more than my hands on his cock

Who can resist the chance to talk about themselves? My unique massage for your mind gives you hours to tell me your story while I massage and play with your naked body too.

I thought he had fallen asleep during my long, slow, full body massage. But he hadn't.

"I really enjoy the way you massage," he said, "I haven't been touched with such care and sensitivity for far too long."

"My pleasure," I said. "I like a man who lies still and lets me explore his body in my own way."

I asked him to turn over and waited while he settled comfortably face up.

I worked my hands slowly along his legs, until my palms pressed between his inner thighs, lightly spreading them apart. My fingers circling his balls, exploring deeper.

With my hands under the pulsing shaft of his cock, I massaged his lower stomach, working my way gradually up to his chest. Lightly flicking my fingertips across his nipples. Then higher to his shoulders and neck. Standing at the head of the table, I leaned forward stretching as far as I could reach along his torso towards the head of his cock.

Massaging his foreskin

He turned his head to watch me in the mirror as I moved to the side of the massage table to stroke his thick cock. I was looking forward to applying more than my hands.

But for now, I only grasped the shaft in one hand to hold it steady, pointed upwards. Slipped one finger beneath the foreskin and swirled it round, enjoying the wet, velvety smoothness of the slick head.

"You really know your way around a dick," he gasped, lifting his head from the pillow to watch.

"I've had plenty of experience. But I don't want to get you too aroused yet. That's just a taste of what's to come," I said, "Let's move to the bed and get more comfortable."

Nude, body to body sliding

Usually men lie on the bed face up and I gradually lower myself so that our naked bodies are touching from head to toe. Instead, he lay on his side, inviting me to lie alongside him.

"Can we spoon for a while," he asked, "I'd like to give you back some of the affection you've been showing me."

He nuzzled my neck, his beard tickling. "You're a truly friendly guy," he said, "I'm really pleased I decided to spend the day with you."

"It's nice to be appreciated." He pulled me into a tighter embrace, pressing his body into me. I felt his cock lengthening, pressing against my bum.

"You don't mind that do you?" he asked, a little hesitantly. "Lying here with you is turning me on. I can move if it's uncomfortable."

"Don't move an inch. I like how it feels. But we should get a condom if you're planning to slip inside."

"I'm looking forward to fucking you. But not yet. Can we just lie here like this for a while? I promise I won't go any deeper."

We lay quietly for a few moments, his breath on the back of my neck, his arms around me. The shaft of his cock pressed between my cheeks.

Massage for his mind

Soon he said: "There's another reason I wanted to visit you today. I got the impression from your web site that you might be able to help me. That you'd listen to me if I wanted to talk."

"I like to listen. Tell me anything you like."

"Being here with you is the first intimate contact I've had in months," he said.

He told me about his first male to male sexual encounter. "I enjoyed the experience though it was a bit rushed and amateurish. So when I found you offered this all day session, I decided to try again with someone who had more experience with bi-curious straight men like me."

He stopped talking while I demonstrated my expertise on his penis. This time applying more than my hands. Bringing him slowly to the edge but still not letting him ejaculate. And giving him some tips for how to massage my cock as well. He was a quick study.

Each time we paused, he added something else to his story. Over the next several hours, he opened up more to me. Eventually, he trusted me enough to tell me about his failed marriage and divorce, his feelings and worries about being alone.

I've been so lonely

"If we'd had kids, things might have turned out differently. But all we ever had were our careers. And now, I'm not sure what I have to look forward to. What's the point of working for a future if there's no one to share it with?"

Every now and then as we talked, I shared a few stories from my own life to illustrate a point. He told me how relieved he was to discover he was not so different to other men as he'd thought.

"It's a great weight off my mind to realise I'm not really alone after all," he said.

I asked questions, encouraging him to expand on his theme. "This is not really something you can resolve in a day with me," I said, "as much as I'd like to help. But have you considered..." I made some suggestions.

He listened intently. "You're very wise," he said, "I wish I had a notebook to write some of these things down."

"You're welcome to call or email me any time and I'll repeat my suggestions."

Sexual therapy

When he had run out things to say, he asked if I could get him the condom I'd offered earlier.

"It's been months since I've fucked anyone," he said, "and I've never fucked a man. So tell me if I'm doing it wrong. I'm sure you've had far more experience than me."

He came fairly quickly the first time, a look of intense, exquisite pleasure suffusing his face. "Fuck that was good," he said as he lay panting on the bed beside me.

"Give me a moment or two, then I want to do that again. Much more slowly."

Later, after we'd shared a long, hot shower, we carefully towelled one another dry. Then we returned to the bed for the remaining hour.

He hugged me close and said: "I feel so completely relaxed and refreshed. I've never talked so much about myself to anyone. Not even my ex-wife. And sex with you is the best kind of therapy."

I've never met anyone like you I could talk with. I could tell by your questions that you were actually listening to what I said. I know I can tell you anything. It's the best kind of therapy.

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