Deep down I guess I knew that he would wank me. After all he would not have advertised it as a man to man erotic massage if he was not going to would he? That said everything seemed above board and normal at first. Not just normal, but spotlessly clean and not at all sordid or wanton and that was nice.
The house was in a leafy part of Walthamstow in north east London. It was in an area called Walthamstow Village, though how a village can really be in an inner city I am not sure, but then there is the Greenwich one isn't there?
I had phoned earlier in the day and Mike had told me that I could have an appointment at two for up to two hours or any time in the evening. As Kelly, my wife, was home that evening and had told me she was going to cook dinner, I chose the afternoon slot. Cooking dinner was a something she did occasionally when she was not away from home with her training company. She was away far too much for a marriage to be successful and not creak and groan with extra marital activity. I suspected she had such activity and I knew I did. That said we got on well, especially sexually and cooking dinner was a euphemism for an evening in with food and wine and a long fuck. Hence, it had to be the afternoon.
Mike opened the door wearing a grey track suit. He ushered me in and we stood in the hallway of the small, terraced house that was probably built in the twenties when Walthamstow and other such areas were main commuting locations for London.
"Hi James, how are you?"
"Fine thanks Mike," I replied feeling hellishly nervous.
He was a little younger than me probably early forties, but was quite good looking with what looked to be a toned, slim body. He was quite smiley and friendly and immediately made me feel comfortable.
"The studio is upstairs," he said rather confusing me?
"Studio?"
"Yes that is what I call my massage emporium," he smiled. "Come on follow me."
I followed him up the narrow stairs my heart beating faster by the moment. He led me into what would have been the front bedroom. It was neat and tidy with a massage table in the middle, a dressing table along one wall with towels and bowls and bottles on it. There was a sink, a couple of easy chairs, a trouser press and along another wall, rather interestingly there was a bed covered with a pink duvet.
"Like to shower first?" He asked.
"Yes that would be great."
"Ok that's in here," he said leading me next door. "There's gell and soap in the shower and there's plenty of towels," he went on pointing to a pile of clean, white towels piled up on a stool. Again I was impressed by how clean everything was and how matter of fact he was. "Undress in the studio, have your shower then pop back in there," he said adding. "I will hear when you are finished and I'll come back upstairs."
I went in the studio and undressed. My cock was tingling and I could feel the start of an erection as I walked to the bathroom. I showered making sure I avoided touching my genitals too much as I would have been so embarrassed to have a hard on before he even started the massage. The thought of that, though, was encouraging stirrings down there and I knew that I would need little encouragement.
Returning to the studio I was surprised to see that he had drawn the thick drapes and the room was lit just by a few aromatic candles. There was some haunting violin music playing. I had wrapped a towel round me for the short trip to the studio so I kept that on and leaned against the table waiting for Mike. He was there quickly. I sort of gulped when I saw that he had removed his track top and was wearing a singlet like athletes wear. His arms and shoulders were nicely tanned.
"Hi," he said. "Nice shower?"
"Yes good thanks."
"Ok pop yourself on the table and we'll get going."
