Revised version copyright 2008 by the author.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is another one of my former magazine stories, long out of print, back now in a polished-up version.
This story is about me and Ted. Ted is my regular massage therapist, and also my good friend. It just goes to show how the Internet has changed life, because I probably wouldn't have met him any other way. I'm in my early thirties and I don't run into that many people his age. Ted is fifty-nine years old, about my height, with a shock of silver hair and twinkly blue eyes. His gently craggy face and friendly smile give him the look of a kind grandfather, which in fact he is.
Ted's body isn't like those of most grandfathers, though. He works out regularly and has the wide shoulder, thick arms and chiseled pectorals to show for it. He came out late in life after being married and having children, and says he's trying to make up for lost time. He retired early after a successful corporate career, went to massage school and got his license. Bodywork for him is an agreeable hobby. "You meet lots of interesting people," he says, with a wink.
I've learned all of this about Ted during many regular therapy sessions. From the beginning he's been delightful and charming, and really easy to talk to. I've told him lots of things I only share with people I trust.
Ted makes me feel physically good too, of course, and, to be honest, it's more than just because he's an expert at massage. He has some special techniques that work like a charm if you want to feel totally relaxed. I went to him the first time not knowing for sure what to expect, but since I had met him in an M4M chat room, I thought he might be willing to do more than just rub me down.
I don't grill potential therapists about their looks and cock size, or ask them to send a picture over the Net. It's insulting to treat someone like that. Ted was honest about his age and what he looked like when we chatted, disarmingly so. I decided to give him a try.
When I got to his modest house and knocked Ted answered the door, smiling, dressed in a polo shirt and khaki shorts.
"Welcome, Brian. Come on in."
He showed me to the massage room and said, "You know the routine." He left me to get ready. I stripped and got face down on the table.
Although Ted had left me a draping towel, he didn't say anything when he came back and saw that I wasn't using it. He went right to work.
His strokes were thorough, slow and soothing. I noticed that he paid a lot of attention to my butt, his fingers frequently brushing my crack. It felt good and I didn't mind. By the time Ted was finished with my back side, I was pleasantly horny as well as relaxed. He asked me to turn over and I complied. I had quite a boner on by then, but figured he wouldn't be bothered by it.
Sure enough, Ted didn't miss a beat, but kept right on with the massage. His strokes soon became more and more sensual. In a few minutes I was breathing deeply, my cock hard and leaking. I wasn't surprised when he took my erection into his hand and began to stroke it. I closed my eyes and lost myself in the pleasurable sensations of a good hand job.
Then I felt Ted's other hand gently pushing on one of my thighs. I responded to his unspoken request and spread my legs, raising my knees a bit. While he continued stroking me Ted began to probe underneath my balls. A moment later my eyes flew open in surprise as he pushed one finger into my asshole. The combined sensation of being jacked off and penetrated was electric. When Ted's finger began pressing on my prostate I went over the edge, groaning as cum flew from my dick and splashed over my chest and belly.
Slowly my breathing returned to normal and I opened my eyes. Ted looked at me. "How are you doing?" he asked.
"Whew. Great," I replied. "Thanks."
"You're welcome." He took what was supposed to be my draping towel and gently blotted up the cum with it. "You came a lot."
"God, yes." I said, "Your finger kind of took me by surprise."
"I could tell you enjoyed that."
"Do they have a butt play unit in massage school?" I teased.
He chuckled and shook his head. "Just something I kind of figured out on my own."
I felt drained and content. Ted was an expert at massage, and the little extra he was willing to provide was something special. He hugged me when I left and said he hoped I would come back. I'd already decided that I would.
Our next massage didn't take place as soon as I would have liked, but soon I began to see Ted on a regular basis. Since we had established that I enjoyed his sensual play, he was less restrained about it.
It was about our fourth or fifth session when Ted surprised me again. That day, as usual, he worked a long time on my ass. While I was still lying on my stomach, he slipped a finger inside me and gently but thoroughly massaged my prostate until I was moaning with pleasure.
Later, when I was on my back and he began to stroke my cock, on an impulse I reached out and ran my hand over his body. In response, Ted slipped his clothes off piece by piece until he too was naked. That was when I discovered how diligently he kept in shape. He had a nice cock, long and circumcised. Judging by how hard it was he was enjoying himself too. He used his hands and fingers again to bring me to a shattering orgasm--I saw stars.
Slowly coming down from my high, I opened my eyes and saw Ted getting dressed. He handed me a towel, smiled at me in his usual way and left to let me get myself together.
We sat in the living room of his house afterward. I asked Ted how he had learned his skills. He said that it was just a part of self-discovery and exploring his own body and needs. Since he was so expert at making that part of a man's body feel good did he enjoyed receiving as much as giving? His answer surprised me. He had only been a bottom once, and didn't enjoy it, he said. Why not? I asked.
His smile tightened, and he told me a disturbing story. He had known a few years into his marriage that he was gay, but had stayed with his wife until his children were grown. They went through some rocky times when he came out, but managed to stay friends.
After their divorce was final, he started trying to meet people in bars. It's not so easy to do that when you're past forty. Finally one night he hooked up with someone who seemed nice and went home with him. That was a major mistake. The guy was drunk and horny and wanted to fuck Ted. Hoping to talk him out of it, Ted told him he was a virgin, which made his partner even more excited. The upshot of it was that he forced Ted into the act.
Ted had trouble telling what came next. The guy wouldn't stop, no matter how much Ted begged him. The pain was excruciating, but he bore it somehow until his partner came in his ass and pulled out. When Ted said to him, "you raped me," the guy got ugly and told him to put his clothes on and leave. Ted could barely walk, but somehow made it to an all-night convenience store and called a cab to take him back to the bar, where he had left his car.
Since then, no surprise, he'd been scared to try it again. For a long time he only did hand jobs and oral sex. He wouldn't fuck anyone, recoiling at the thought of putting someone through what he'd had to endure. Finally, a few years back, he had met a man he really liked who begged him to fuck him. His partner's ecstasy made him realize it was possible to enjoy getting fucked. After some cautious exploration with his own finger he had discovered some of the pleasures of ass play. But he still hadn't had the nerve to try taking another cock inside him.
I couldn't get what Ted had told me out of my mind. It made me sad and angry. It's bad enough to be taunted or bashed by straight homophobes, but Ted had been abused by someone with whom he thought he was safe. The bastard had made him afraid of an act that should be fun and pleasurable.
An idea began to grow in my brain. Ted wasn't my usual type. I had never thought about making it with someone so much older than me. But I enjoyed being with him, and just the thought of a session on his table made me hard. He liked me too, and by now, we knew what turned each other on as much as if we were lovers.
I knew that Ted's sixtieth birthday was coming up. He had mentioned it as a big occasion --he was taking some time to go visit his grown daughter and her family out of state. After making sure I wasn't interfering with any plans he had, I booked an appointment with him a few days before he was going to leave.
