The masseur had advertised in an alternative newspaper called The East Village Other. It was the height of the flower generation era. The ad had promised a "mind blowing massage." I bit.
A man fifteen or twenty years older than I opens the door of the small studio apartment, smiles and invites me in. He is a goodlooking man of perhaps forty five or fifty, with a short fringe of salt and pepper hair cut in bangs over his forehead. It has a sort of ancient Roman Senator look. He is wearing baggy cotton slacks and no shirt. He is in good shape, and has a hairless, well developed chest. He introduces himself as Piero, a name I had never heard before, but years later learned is a not-uncommon Italian name. He does not look Italian and has probably adopted this as a "professional name."
We exchange some small talk. I am very nervous, and Piero notices this, and smiles a lot. He shows me some of the little art objects that he has lying around. Then he invites me to take off my clothes and lie down on a full bed which is located in a sleeping alcove of the living room. I comply and nervously lie on my stomach as instructed. Piero slips out of his slacks, and is dressed now only in a small bikini brief of some type of animal skin pattern. There follows a lovely, warm oil massage. Piero has great strong hands and a soothing pleasant voice. He expertly massages my legs and back and spends a lot of time on my ass. I spread my legs a little and he reaches down and brushes my balls on each rump stroke. I start to relax. He is now massaging my arms and shoulders and then tells me to turn over.
As I turn on to my back, I look more closely at my masseur. He has a slim but muscular body, in very good shape for his age. I study his hair again; it is long and worn in an odd Prince Valiant style. But even more odd is his bikini brief. I notice that there is a little hole in the front, which is gathered in a tight elasticized circle, so that a cock (and balls) could be pulled through the front.
Piero praises my body and asks if I work out. I assure him that I don't and comment that I don't think that I am really that well built.
"Well, your legs are especially strong," he amends.
He then suddenly grabs my cock and balls in his fist and shakes them playfully.
"You really are Italian, aren't you?" he asks.
I have given him an Italian name, and I suppose the fact that I am uncircumcised has something to do with his comment, and the grabbing.
I am puzzled and a little alarmed, and I just laugh and nod my head. Piero continues with the massage, and is now seated above my head with his arms deliciously massaging my chest, head and neck. He focuses now on the nipples, and then swoops down the belly to the navel area. And up again in two wide circles.
Presently he is repositioned on the bed, kneeling between my legs. He pours some more oil into the palm of his hand and begins to massage my dick. Reaching under, he works on my nutsack, and then slowly starts to jerk me off. I am hard. And twitching. Piero pauses. He looks into my eyes, and lowers his head. He takes my cock into his mouth and begins to swallow it. He swallows it in steps, little gulps, swallowing as a seagull might swallow a fish. He is now down to my pubic hair, and my cock has completely disappeared inside him. And now, slowly, patiently, he comes up, again in small sections, revealing my lost prick inch by inch. He lifts it out of his mouth, and holding it he speaks.
"Well, smile !", he commands.
I guess that I am in such blissful awe of what is transpiring that I forgot to look appreciative.
"Sorry, I'm still a little nervous. Feels great though."
"Relax, baby. Piero will take care of everything."
Piero kissed and licked, sucked and tongued, until my dick was fluttering like a zither.
As he did this, he moved his body around allowing access to his crotch. Me, stupid dummy did nothing for minutes. Finally Piero reached down and stripped off his own briefs and I was treated to the sight of a very nice fat circumcised dick with a swollen pink head. I tentatively touched it, and then played with it a bit more boldly. I felt that my hand was cold against his warm phallus.
"The wedding ring is real, isn't it?", Piero asked.
I nodded assent, and Piero went back to his sucking. I could tell that he really enjoyed his work.
"Here I come. Piero! I'm gonna come ! Piero?"
Piero looked at me with a knowing, calming look, and nodded slightly, not loosening up his liplock on my cock a bit.
Spurt. Spurt. Spurt.
Yes. Nice. That was good.
Piero licks his lips, and then kisses my cock.
He continues to lick, and I have to pull away after a few moments. The head of my dick is too sensitive. He leaves and returns with a warm washcloth and cleans me up. Then he starts to lick me again. I pull away again.
"Tsk, tsk, still tender, are we? Okay, then, I guess we'll just have to leave you alone," he says talking to my dick in baby talk.
I'm pissing into Piero's bowl in his small bathroom. I look at the funny drawing over the toilet. It is of a little man with an enormous cock holding it up with both hands as he pees.
I confirm the price of the massage with Piero, and then take out some money and ask him if he has change. At this point in my career as a massage customer I didn't know that masseurs expect a tip. I suppose that it was gauche of me to ask for change. If I didn't want to tip him, I should have brought along the exact amount. But I am new at this, and Piero doesn't seem to mind. He hands me a ten dollar bill and I head for the door. It is locked. I pull on it unsuccessfully, and must have had a panicked look on my face as I turned back to the naked masseur.
He strolls over and turns the key, saying, "See! No trickery."