Absolutely Filthy Brian
Today's story takes place in the 1980s. The AIDS health crisis had hit. I had become more careful than ever. But I still needed that special male touch. Upon responding to an appealing masseur ad, I detected some hesitancy on the other end of the line. Turns out that the masseur, named Brian, is in the midst of moving some furniture from a friend's apartment to his own. Things should be settled by late afternoon, so we set up an appointment for then. The ad had mentioned that Brian is also available to work with a friend, so I inquire about that and he is going to call his friend and set it up for him to join us.
When I arrive, a flushed and somewhat harried attractive young man answers the door. The furniture move has not been successfully completed, but Brian interrupts the job to take care of this paying client. Turns out the friend was not available so it will just be the two of us. We move into a bedroom and Brian is quite open about the carnal nature of our appointment, and baldly asks what I like.
"Umm, I don't want to DO anything really, just, fool around a little. Like you know, I would really love it if you could put on a show, sort of, for me, and then, we could, umm, like take it from there."
"A show?"
"Well, yeah. I had originally been hoping to watch you and your friend get it on. But since he couldn't make it, well, your ad said that you've got nine inches, and so whether you actually have nine or not, it would be fun to..."
"I do have nine inches."
"OK, great, I just meant that it would be cool to watch you stand over there and do a slow strip and then pull on your long dick and tease me with it, and, umm, like that."
"Well, okay."
Brian proceeds to do a nice strip, opening one fly button at a time, and then turning around and rubbing his jean clad ass, and then slowly lowering them. I take out my dick and start to jerk off as I watch.
Brian has no pants on now, but keeps his shirt on as he works up his long, bent cut cock, which might actually be about nine inches long, as advertised. I strip off my clothes and pile them next to the bed. I am lying back on his bed, head propped up, as Brian slowly moves his body in a dancelike rhythm a few feet away. I ask him if he has ever stripped in a strip show or worked as a dancer. He shakes his head no, and seems a little insulted by the question.
After perhaps ten minutes of this, Brian moves on to the bed, and I begin to caress his body.
"You really don't want to do anything?"
"Well, no, it's hard but..."
"I can see it's hard," he laughs. "Oh, married, huh?", he asks, noticing my ring.
I nod to that and continue to lazily enjoy the feel of his body. I squeeze his cock and then give it an "indian burn" type double handed movement, each hand turning in opposite directions. This makes him very hard. He begins to play with my dick, and then slowly draws some of my precum onto the tip of his finger and stretches it out in a thin luminescent strand. This turns us both on, and before I quite know what is happening, Brian has my cock in his mouth. He sucks it hungrily making guttural sounds.
I say "Oh, oh, oh." I do not pull away or remove my dick from the warm moist cave it has found.
After a minute or so, I steel my resolve, and pull out. He looks at me, inquiringly.
"Hey, I told you I don't want to do anything," I scold. "You're okay, aren't you? I mean you're clean, aren't you?"
"Absolutely filthy !" he responds with glee.
"I'm sorry," I apologize for asking such an impudent and pointless question. "It's just that I'm so nervous about this sort of thing."
Brian smiles. "You know, hustlers generally are a lot more careful in getting check-ups than the married guys who suck you off in men's rooms," he asserts.
Maybe he has a point.
Anyway during this theoretical discussion we have continued to fondle, and squeeze and twist and play. We are facing each other on the bed now, with our legs intertwined and our dicks pointing at each other. We are each reaching forward with one hand and manually stimulating the other's dick with a vengeance. I tweak Brian's nipple with my other hand, and he cries out and begins to shoot. I start to come before he is finished, and our moans blend.
As I am dressing I coyly ask Brian if I am invited back.
He says "Sure, and by the way, my real name is Michael."
He gives me a different phone number for "friends," and I am strangely flattered.