A Quiet Understanding

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After years of being physically active, I suppose it was inevitable that I’d eventually screw something up. Now in my early forties, the decision to go head-to-head with a bunch of twenty-somethings on the basketball court may not have been the best decision. After straining the muscles and tendons in my left shoulder pretty badly, I spent several weeks with a physical therapist getting things back to normal. Jane was terrific, and I learned the value of proper stretching and the miracle of a skilled massage. When the doctor released me, and the insurance payments dried-up, I was mildly disappointed to lose Jane’s magic touch on my shoulders.

“Steve, I want you to keep doing the stretches and pay attention to any aches that might reappear in your shoulder.” Jane said professionally, while going through my file on my last visit. “You might want to consider seeing a massage therapist if muscle aches become persistent. Here’s a card for a very skilled therapist I met during a seminar. He’s local, reasonably priced, and proficient in a variety of methods.”

“Thanks, Jane…I’ve appreciated your help.” I said, taking the card from her hand. “Do you ever take private clients?”

“I wish I could, but my contract with the hospitals keeps me busy. I’ve used him before when the therapist I normally see is out of town.” Jane said with a smile. “You might even consider making massage a monthly thing for stress…it has several benefits beyond muscle issues.”

I tucked the card in my pocket and thought nothing more about it as I signed the paperwork that released me from Jane’s care. I felt confident that I had learned my lesson about over-doing it, and went back to my usual routine at the gym.

About three months later, I managed to irritate things again. Despite loading-up on Tylenol, the dull ache just wasn’t going away. I thought I had lost the card Jane gave me, but my wife kept it with the other paperwork in our files at home.

“Stop trying to tough it out. Give the guy a call and see if he can help.” My wife said while rubbing my shoulders sympathetically. “Let go of a nickel…your health is worth it.”

“I know…I’ll call tomorrow.” I replied with a sigh. “Having someone paw on me with a doctor’s order is one thing. Doing it voluntarily is another.”

“Oh good grief…he’s working the kink out of your shoulder, that’s all.” Linda said, gently smacking my back. “You should try a full massage sometime. It’s the highlight of my visit to the day spa with my girlfriends.”

“I’m not ready to for dark rooms, new-age music, and cucumbers over my eyelids.” I answered sarcastically. “Not to mention the hours it would take me to pick out a nail color.”

“You can be such an ass.” She said playfully. “Maybe we should start salons for men where you lay down on a boulder and bears walk on your back while heavy-metal bands play in the background.”

“Now you’re onto something.”

“Ugh…”

++++++++++++++++

Reluctantly, I made the call and arrived a week later for my first appointment. The guy ran the business from a small building behind his home…likely a converted garage. I was pleasantly surprised by both his professional demeanor and the high-end appearance of the studio. Bill was about my age, also very fit, and easy to talk to. After asking several health-related questions, we discussed his rates and services.

“I can, of course, focus only on your back and shoulders…but that really won’t cost you any less.” Bill said, while looking over the file I kept from Jane’s sessions. “You should take advantage of the opportunity to relax and lose some stress as well…treat the whole body, not just one part.”

It was probably the money argument that won me over, so I decided to let him do the “full assessment”, as he called it. Bill was very patient in describing the process and made it clear that the levels of dress and what areas he worked on were always up to me. The whole “full-body” massage thing was a new experience, and I wasn’t sure how comfortable I was with it. Bill made no comment when I got on the table wearing an old pair of swim trunks. His touch was a bit firmer than Jane’s, and I found it even more effective on my sore muscles. I had to admit, he was every bit as skilled as Jane said he was. By the time the first session was over, I felt fantastic and more relaxed than ever. Maybe Jane and my wife had a point about the virtues of massage as a monthly routine.

++++++++++++++++

After the first six months of seeing my new therapist, I got more comfortable with whole thing and finally ditched the swim trunks. It seemed more than a little silly, since Bill still kept me draped with a sheet the whole time anyway. Besides, the oils were staining the trunks and Linda kept chiding me to grow up. Bill was never anything but completely professional, and I felt as comfortable with him as I did with my doctor.

As always, Bill asked about any special areas of concern, and I had to confess to over-doing the lunges and turning my thighs into an aching mess. When I undressed and got under the sheet, Bill arrived a few moments later canlı bahis in his usual hospital scrubs. This time he dimmed the lights and started some soft background music….something he didn’t do after I made a comment about massage turning into “new-age voodoo”.

“Before you say anything…just go with it. I think you’ll find it adds to relaxation, and not part of some druid ceremony.” Bill said with a dry wit. “Besides, it helps me keep a smooth rhythm. So I’m being somewhat selfish.”

“Fine…whatever…just wait to sacrifice the goat after I leave.” I replied, feeling comfortable enough with Bill to give him some shit.

“I believe Tina is planning to sacrifice some t-bones tonight. Sorry to disappoint you.”

It briefly occurred to me that this was the first time Bill mentioned anything about his own relationships, but it soon faded as he skillfully eased the tension from my shoulders. By the time he began working on my thighs, the music and lighting had me in a fog of relaxation.

“This will be more effective if I work on your glutes as well as the hamstrings. Are you comfortable with that? Bill asked in a low tone, in keeping with the soothing environment.

“Yeah…sure…fine.” I mumbled, truly losing myself in the moment.

It felt a bit unusual when Bill moved the sheet off one side of my ass, but I soon didn’t care as the kneading and pulling whisked away the dull ache. When he switched sides and began working the other leg, I felt his fingers lightly brush against the bottom of my balls. Bill never paused, and continued his work as though nothing happened. The sensation was unexpected, and I shrugged it off as accidental. Nevertheless, I experienced a slight twinge in my cock, and felt somewhat embarrassed by my body’s reaction. When it was time to roll over, Bill raised the sheet and blocked his face as he always did. As he lowered the sheet, I noticed that my cock was plumper than it would normally be. I was nowhere near hard, but not completely flaccid either. I could feel my body tense, wondering if he would notice and tighten the knot in my stomach.

Bill didn’t seem to notice the larger outline under the thin sheet…or was professional enough not to show it. After a few minutes working on my arms, he moved to my chest and belly, breaking the usual silence to make a comment in a calm and soothing voice. “Breathe deeply…relax…let everything go…you are safe.”

When the massage was over, and he had left the room, I remained on the table a few moments before getting up. Tossing the sheet off me, and sitting up, I noticed that my cock was at least half-hard and felt a wave of shame come over me. I couldn’t believe that just having my ass touched, or a slight brush against my balls could produce such a reaction. Countless physicals with my doctor never created this problem, and I agonized over having to look Bill in the eye when I left the room.

After I got dressed and stepped into the small waiting area, Bill handed me bottled water like he always does, and seemed totally unfazed. I probably should have mirrored his professionalism, but instead stuck my foot in it. “I’m sorry man…I don’t know why that happened.”

The look on Bill’s face said that he wanted to deny knowing what I meant…but knew that wouldn’t fly with me. Instead, he gauged my reaction and told me what I needed to hear. “It’s not unusual…it happens. Massage is by definition very intimate. It takes trust and comfort to be touched in certain areas. I hope you feel safe when I provide the work your body needs. I am not embarrassed…but pleased that you’re at ease enough to let your body do what is natural and not try to repress it and create unneeded stress.”

“Wow…what are you…some kind of massage-whisperer?” I asked jokingly. “I was working on an ulcer, but you’ve made me feel a lot better.”

“Good…it’s nothing to get worked-up about.” Bill said, giving me a firm handshake. “You need to know that the ninety minutes you spend in that room is not only about soothing muscles, but creating calm and allowing stress to leave your body. What happens during the session is as private as seeing your doctor. It’s a no-judgement zone.”

“Oh shit….are we back to sacrificing goats?” I said with a smirk, feeling much better.

“Yep…and that’s all the new-age bullshit I’m going to give you today.” Bill said with a laugh and opening the door for me to leave. “I hope to see you next month.”

“Um…yeah…you probably will.”

+++++++++++++++++

Admittedly, I hesitated about keeping my usual appointment, but after talking it through with my wife, she reassured me that I was making too much of it. I didn’t have the same problem with my thighs this time around, so the massage was uneventful. Bill started doing my buttocks as part of the routine now that my comfort level was no longer an issue. I had become addicted to the monthly opportunity to “zone out” and looked forward to the various techniques and stretches that Bill worked into the sessions. Depending on how intense Bill thought things needed to be, I sometimes had “stirrings” in the private areas, bahis siteleri and sometimes not…but at least I stopped worrying about it. I even got to the point that a towel was enough coverage to be comfortable…keeping Bill from spending so much time shuffling and tucking that damn sheet.

A few months later, however, things took an unusual turn. I had again worked too hard at lunges, and Bill was spending more time on my upper thighs and buttocks. He was standing at the side of the table, kneading my thigh when his fingers once again brushed against my balls. It hadn’t happened since the first incident months ago, and I might not have given it any thought until it happened again seconds later. This time, and to my own horror, I let out a purely instinctive moan. Bill moved away from that area, and I worked to calm my mind when a new sensation became apparent. My arms were always flat against the far sides of the table, with my palms facing up. Against the edge of my hand, I felt the fabric of Bill’s scrub pants, and the flesh behind it wasn’t the broad surface of his leg…but had to be the warm head of his cock. Instantly my pulse began to race, and I wondered why my arm didn’t immediately pull away. Bill remained there only a few moments, moving down the table as he worked on my calves. My body trembled slightly as my mind fought to play-down the event as nothing important.

Bill must have sensed my anxiety and spoke softly. “Breathe…relax…your body knows how to release the tension…don’t fight it.”

I did as he asked, taking several deep breaths and focused on the sounds of the babbling stream coming from the cd player. Bill moved to the other side of the table and began working the other leg. Instead of folding the towel to one side as usual, he removed it completely before firmly kneading my right buttock. The skill of the massage never wavered, and Bill was attentive as ever, but his fingers unmistakably brushed against my sack for the third time. Again, a soft moan escaped my lips before I could suppress it. My cock stirred…I was getting hard.

“Are you ready to roll over?” Bill asked in a low, masculine tone.

“I…uh…I don’t know.” I stammered, shocked by my body’s raw instincts. “I…I’m not gay.”

Bill firmly but comfortingly massaged my back. “In here, you’re not anything but you. There are no roles to play, no rules to follow. Just relax, let your body tell you what it wants…there is no judgment.”

Slowly and awkwardly I rolled onto my back, my cock swollen and pointing toward the ceiling. Bill placed a warm washcloth over my eyes and rubbed my forehead before speaking again. “I am here to calm your body and your spirit, but your limits are always honored. Your trust is a sacred bond. Let your tensions, frustrations, and anxieties flow out of you.”

Bill took his time, working my upper chest and neck, then back to my feet and methodically up my legs. By now I was achingly hard and leaking precum onto my belly. I gasped for air as he cupped my balls and gently tugged on the loose sack. His hands were warm and slick from the oils, and felt incredible as he gripped my rigid pole. Bill stroked my cock with knowing skill while fondling my balls with the other. I couldn’t see anything with the cloth over my eyes, and my ears filled with the sounds of nature from the cd. My breathing became ragged, and my hips rose to meet the firm strokes of Bill’s hand. Moaning deeply, my body tensed and cum erupted from my cock in four heavy streams. The warm seed splashed on my chest and ran down the sides of my ribcage as Bill coaxed every drop from my boiling nuts. It had been a long time since I came that hard, and I lay exhausted on the massage table, panting for air.

Bill said nothing as he calmly wiped my body with warm washcloths and dried my deflating cock. Drawing a sheet over me, he handed me another warm cloth and encouraged me to take my time getting dressed. He then left the room as though it were any other appointment.

I must have been stunned, because I didn’t know what to think. All I felt was incredible satisfaction and relaxation. Part of me wanted to be mad and pissed-off…but I just couldn’t manage that emotion. I walked into the waiting area with a dazed and confused expression.

“I hope you’re alright.” Bill said, sounding genuinely concerned. “I went where I felt you needed me to go. You were a bundle of nerves that needed release. Call it a “happy ending” if you want…but that kind of cheesy service is not what I’m about.”

“How did you know I’d let you do that? Weren’t you worried that I’d beat the shit out of you?” I asked, not really sure yet how I felt.

“Well…a little. But I’ve gotten to know you and trust you…I hoped you felt safe around me.” Bill handed me bottled water and sat behind his desk. “Sometimes all that energy has to find an outlet…I just let it out.”

“Frankly that sounds like more new-age bullshit.” I said curtly, but not in a mean tone. “Still…I don’t hate you…and I feel pretty damn good right now…all things considered.”

“Like I’ve said before, what happens during the session bahis şirketleri is private, and all about you. That kind of thing may or may not ever happen again. It’s only as important as you make it.”

“Well…it will take some time for me to digest all this, and I’m not naïve enough to think you’re being completely selfless.” I said, tossing his fee on the desk.

“You’re right, of course. I risked my reputation and professionalism on indulging my own curiosities.” Bill said, suddenly looking troubled. “I am sorry. I tried to rationalize my poor behavior. I certainly don’t expect to be paid for that.” Putting the money back in my hands, he led me to the door. “If you feel the need to pursue this legally, I’ll certainly understand.”

By the timbre of his voice, and the look of regret on his face, I knew Bill was remorseful. Even so, I still harbored no malice or feelings of revenge. “Nobody died, Bill…there’s no need to get dramatic. If I make another appointment, I guess you’ll know we’re good.”

+++++++++++++++

I skipped the next month’s appointment, but the unexpected nature of the things that happened stuck with me. My dreams occasionally focused on what it might have been like to let things go a bit further. I think all men are at least a little curious at one time or another, and Bill pressed the matter more than I would have ever dared. I’m confident enough in my sexuality that the incident didn’t cause me any stress, but it certainly fueled ideas that had never surfaced before.

The shoulder had been giving me problems again, and Linda didn’t understand my reluctance to make an appointment. Not wanting to have her nag me to death, I sent an email and arranged a visit the following day. Bill seemed genuinely pleased to see me, and conducted himself with utmost professionalism. I went back to the sheet instead of the towel, and he never made any move that strayed from the course of the massage. At the end, I couldn’t help but feel like I wanted more. I thanked him for the excellent service, and arranged to go back to the monthly routine. Nothing was mentioned about prior experiences, and I was glad to avoid the topic.

By the time the next visit came around, I’d been having more explicit and unconventional dreams. As much as part of me wanted to deny it, I couldn’t refute the notion that another round of the taboo had an illicit appeal. “What the hell…what’s the worst that can happen?” I thought to myself as I got onto the table without any covering.

Bill entered the room in his usual set of scrubs, dimming the lights a bit more and starting the cd of crashing ocean waves. “So, what are the problem areas today?”

“Oh, nothing in particular…just a relaxing time away from the world in a comfortable space.” I replied casually.

Bill said nothing, but quietly got to work. The pace of the massage seemed a bit slower and even more deliberate than in the past. When he began working my thighs, the movements seemed reluctant…almost timid. And then I felt the brush of his pants against the side of my hand. I took a deep breath, gathered my resolve, and slowly curled my fingers. At first, I felt nothing…but then sensed the thin cotton fabric against my pinky, and a pliant appendage underneath. Bill then brushed the back of my scrotum and I responded with a soft moan. Moving my hand closer to the edge of the table, I flicked my fingers across what could have only been his stiffening prick. Bill’s grip moved higher up my thigh, firmly pressing the crease where my legs met my ass and blatantly rubbing against my balls. I was committed to the experience now, and slowly spread my legs wider, giving him easier access.

As the cd changed tracks to a stream with chirping crickets, Bill pulled away with a ruffling sound behind me, and then moved to the other side of the table. He started rubbing my calf as he’d done on the other leg, but now something warm and firm pressed against the bottom of my foot. I was still staring at the floor through the bottom of the head support as my heart-rate increased and the sound pounded in my ears. Bill’s skilled hands crept up my thigh as he stepped further along the side of the table. His touch once again reached my sack, and the head of his cock came to rest in palm of my up-turned hand. Mindlessly, I wrapped my fingers around it…feeling the slimy precum and smearing it around the spongy helmet with my thumb. I heard Bill groan and then felt a warm stream of oil flow down the crack of my ass. He had never been so thorough with my butt before and I moaned deeply as his fingers ran from the back of my balls, deep into my crack, over my untouched pucker and back down again.

For a moment, I wondered what Linda would think if she saw me like this…though it would likely turn her on. Turning my head for a better view, I saw Bill standing there completely nude and my hand wrapped around his seven-inch cock. He looked down and grinned, reaching his hand under me and pulling my hard prick down between my legs. His fingers teased the bottom of my shaft and glans as his other hand slowly worked a finger into my ass. I wasn’t sure about the intrusion, but the delicate touch across my prostate quickly dispelled any misgivings. I was content to indulge the gentle tease forever, but Bill was equally focused on completing the massage.

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