immigration – Mansploitation

Massaging the Football Player

Tupou is a Tongan exchange student playing football in Dallas, so when he gets an inconvenient stiffy, it’s up to the masseur Avery to help him out. Can Tupou get his needs met?

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Tupou Moala had been going along to get along since he arrived in America. He smiled a lot, and he nodded whenever he thought it appropriate. He agreed with whatever anyone suggested.
That’s because he was from Tonga, and while he had grown up speaking English alongside Tongan, he had trouble understanding nearly everything that happened in America. It wasn’t just the language — his English was good — it was everything about the culture. People spoke of television shows he didn’t know, hashtags he had never tweeted about. It might as well have been a completely different world. He felt like an old man angry about technology, even though he was only nineteen.
He had come to GHU to play football. Before he got here, he was only vaguely aware he was supposed to take classes at the same time. They had said that, but they minimized it. They said not to worry about the university part of university football. The only part that mattered was the football.
Now he struggled to get through his coursework, and didn’t even understand how to get tutoring — much less getting nerds to take his tests for him, which he also could have done if he had known that was an option — nobody had told him that because they assumed all jocks knew it. A lot of things in America were not explicit. Churches were racially segregated, for example, which nobody would acknowledge. It was impossible to know which churches were for white people or for black people except by going there and looking at the people going inside. Everybody assumed Tupou knew that nerds would do his homework if he asked them to. No one back in Tonga did homework for the rugby and cricket jocks who dominated the sports scene there. Those were the sports Tupou came up playing, and when he wasn’t busy with practices, he continued playing rugby with a local amateur team. Nobody here played cricket.
A lot of the people here didn’t speak English as he had learned it. There were a group of players from Florida who had spoken what Tupou was certain was a foreign language before finally learning it was, in fact, a peculiar dialect of English. He didn’t understand the black people who talked like rappers. He didn’t understand Coach Marshall at all, and they said he spoke proper American English. He needed to see a doctor every month and the medical system here was incomprehensible to Tupou — every time he went there, they said he was doing it wrong, signing in incorrectly, handing over the wrong cards, sitting in the wrong place. Every time, he did it differently, handed over a different card with his name on it, stood out of the way rather than sit, and still, they always said he was doing it wrong. It was a minefield too, because he’d found that he kept getting surprise bills in the mail, for medical appointments that he’d been told would be free. He assumed it was because he was doing things wrong, yet no one could tell him the correct way to do it.
But despite all that, Tupou really enjoyed America. The people were friendly, and the parties were fun. It was scary: there were so many people here, and none of them knew each other, it was so big, you could get lost in the woods here for years. It was cold most of the time too, which Tupou actually liked — he was big enough that he was normally overheated, so the cold was enjoyable.
Yet it was very very much unlike Tonga. There was not even any ocean for hundreds of miles in any direction. Tupou did not know how to take that. It wasn’t something that occurred to him until he had been in Dallas for some time, and then the thought of it gave him a claustrophobic feeling. Even though he could see for miles in every direction — Texas was very flat — he still felt penned in, cooped up and isolated.
Tupou was more than seven feet tall, and he had a full head of thick, wavy black hair. Men here did not have long hair, and many Americans made a big to-do about his hair. They thought it was either funny or gorgeous or weird or just plain interesting. Many men in Tonga have long hair. Many people in America liked touching Tupou’s hair.
He enjoyed American football. It wasn’t as much fun as rugby, but it was fun enough, even though Americans took it too seriously. He couldn’t believe they paid for him to come here and go to school just so he could play football.
It was because there were so many people. It took Tupou an embarrassingly long time to realize that was why. In Tonga, every single person would have to pay to see many games and buy many jerseys just to produce as much money as the university football league Tupou played in, and that was not even the main league! The National Football League was many times more popular than that, and a dozen or so minor leagues were also scattered around the country. And of course there were unpaid amateur leagues as well.
The city of Dallas had thirteen times the population of the entire country of Tonga. That was why there were many professional athletes in America, and virtually none in Tonga. Even their national rugby team mostly had side careers, and that was the most popular team in the country. In America, even minor sports have semi-professional leagues.
But the university sports team Tupou played for was very professional, and Tupou was expected to attend many practices, strategy sessions, weightlifting and cardio events, as well as massages from Mister Avery. He was an assistant coach who mainly taught gymnastics, not football, but he did provide massages for all of the football players. He was a very smart man indeed. He had an office near the showers in the locker room.
But Tupou had never gotten a “full massage” from Mister Avery. The others on Tupou’s team did speak of a “full massage” from Mister Avery, without specifying what it was.
Again, Americans love to not say things out loud.
Mister Avery had massaged his shoulders a few times and his leg once when he was limping in practice, and he had bandaged Tupou when he sprained a wrist during a match. But Tupou had never spent time alone with Mister Avery before he summoned him to his office one day.
“Am I in trouble?” he asked when his teammates told him he was to go see Mister Avery for a “full massage”.
His teammates had moved on to sharing stories of girls, and they ignored him. Tupou didn’t understand why he was supposed to see Mister Avery, or why his teammates were looking at him like he had done something wrong.
“Nah, you ain’t in trouble,” said George Hill — wide receiver — with a chuckle when he saw that Tupou was confused.
“Oh. What is it? What do I need?” Tupou said, and the others snickered. Tupou smiled as if he was in on the joke, but he did not know why he must now go see Mister Avery.
Perhaps, he thought, it was related to the hardon that struck Tupou the other day in the locker room. He was talking about a woman who he was to see that weekend, and when he told his teammates about her, his dick got hard. He was not the only one to get “boners”, as the Americans did say.
And Tupou had gathered that yet another thing Americans did not say was that those athletes who got an inconvenient boner went to go see Mister Avery. So perhaps that was why he was summoned to Mister Avery’s office.
“He’s prolly gonna jack you off. Do you do that in Tonga?”
“He’s gonna taste ya coconuts, Tupou.” That was Tuck McCarraher, one of those rednecks whose accents Tupou did not understand. He had long hair like Tupou but somehow it was always greasy, even right after he shampooed it. Tupou saw him shampoo it in the shower, and yet he came out greasy and hairy like a tired pig.
Tupou laughed along with the others, though he didn’t quite get it. It sounded like they were saying that Mister Avery would give him a handjob. But that, he assumed, couldn’t be right.
Still, the more he stood there, the more sure he was. That was why they hooted and made masturbation gestures.
The other players all assumed Tupou would freak out. That was why they made a big deal out of it. They more or less assumed that anyone who wasn’t from a Western country was probably from a pretty homophobic place.
But Tonga was one exception. Everyone hooted and laughed and pantomimed ramming Tupou in the ass — since Tupou towered over everyone, they just pretended to hump his thighs.
“He will wank me off?” Tupou asked.
The others laughed and said yes. They all thought it was funny that Tupou didn’t know it already. They had been talking about it all year. Tupou just hadn’t been listening or understanding well enough to pick it up.
But it was true. Mister Avery was known for giving out handjobs to any athlete who wanted it. They all thought it was better to go to him than to try to train with a stiff dick and blue balls. That was an idea Tupou well understood. Tongan men did something similar. Tupou was the son of a chief, and he was given a man to jack him off as soon as he turned eighteen.
Why did Americans not simply say so? They treat their women as fragile wisps, that was why, he decided. They did not want women to find out what men did behind closed doors.
“Will he let me ram him?” Tupou asked, his eyes opened wide. “In the bottom?”
That made the rest of the team fall quiet. Mister Avery handed out handjobs and swallowed their loads if they wanted that, but no one did anal. That, they all thought, was a step too far. No one here wanted to do that, no one on the football team at least.
“Prolly will, you big lug…” someone said, and everyone laughed. “He’ll love you…”
“Tupou’s crazy…”
“Mister Avery is small. Tupou will split him in half!”
They all burst into hysterical laughter over that. They all pretended they were talking about Tupou being tall — which he was, at nearly seven-feet — and heavy — which he was, being so thick and beefy he didn’t even fit in any standard-size jersey — and not his cock size. No one was willing to admit they checked out each other’s cock sizes in the shower.
But that was, in fact, what they were all talking about. Tupou had a gigantic dick, and Mister Avery was not a large man.
Tupou hurried off to Mister Avery’s office. He was ready to do it. That girl he hung out with this weekend had refused to have sex with him. A lot of the girls around here were like that, he had noticed, they talked about how cute he was and they played with his muscles and they rode his back like a horse, but they didn’t like the idea of actually getting fucked by the seven-foot-tall Tongan with a body like a shaved bear and a foot-long cock. They liked flirting with him and that was about it.
“Come in, Tupou,” Mister Avery said when Tupou knocked on his door.
Tupou walked in. He wore nothing but his jockstrap, cradling his sweaty balls and cock that barely fit in the pouch. He smiled at Mister Avery, wondering if those confused glances had been because athletes weren’t supposed to walk around in their jockstraps. No one had told him that either. But he shrugged it off for now. “Yes, Mister Avery. I will-“
“Did you talk to the Student Foreign Aid people? About the State Department?”
“What?” Tupou grunted.
Mister Avery sighed. “Of course you didn’t. You have to do what he says, Tupou, he’s been emailing you. He said the State Department needs an interview with you. It’s for your visa.”
“Oh.” Tupou grunted. He frowned. Were those other players wrong? Maybe Mister Avery was not planning on giving him a handjob after all.
“Is something wrong? He said it’s not a big deal. They just need to talk to you.”
“Oh.” Tupou grabbed his dick through his jockstrap. He wondered if his teammates were playing a prank on him. “Will you… Can I ram you?”
Mister Avery always took everything in stride, but that was sudden enough to shock him. He assumed Tupou was worried he’d be deported.
A long pause came between them, as both men froze like they had done something wrong. Mister Avery cleared his throat. His eyes bugged out. “Uh… Tupou…”
“The other players, they say that you jack them off. They say that you-“
“Tupou, I invited you in here to tell you about your visa, so you wouldn’t get deported. I don’t-“
“You don’t jerk players off? I want that.” Tupou crossed his arms over his chest. “I will do the visa, fine. I want-“
“I don’t just jerk players off.” Mister Avery wrinkled his nose. “That’s inappropriate.” He paused, and a sly smile crept on his face. “Sometimes… Men have urges, Tupou. Sometimes those urges lead to actions. It doesn’t mean anything happened, not really. It just means men are sometimes overcome by urges. They do things by instinct. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” It didn’t look like he understood. In truth, Tupou didn’t really care. He was waiting for Mister Avery to say either yes or no.
Mister Avery stood up and walked behind Tupou. He placed both hands on his broad shoulders. “I’ll just give you a massage. We’ll see what happens from there. If you need a hand at some point… I’d be glad to help out.”
Tupou smiled. He nodded. He could tell what was going to happen, and he enjoyed the massage — Mister Avery was really very good at it. He sighed, the stresses of dealing with a foreign country flowing away from him as he sunk down in the chair at Mister Avery’s desk.
His stiffness diminished slowly at first, then quickly. Tupou sat stiff until he took a big long breath, and he realized for sure that he was not in trouble. He had not done something wrong. Mister Avery was going to jack him off after all, and for now, the massage eased away the aches in his shoulders, then his back and his arms.
Soon enough, his muscles were big and soft now, relaxed, like liquefied meat beneath Mister Avery’s soft fingers. Tupou had to fight off the urge to kiss Mister Avery on the lips.
Somehow, Tupou ended up on the couch on one side of Mister Avery’s office. He just lay there, lounging, while Mister Avery kneaded his thick flesh. His jockstrap was off now, his massive uncut cock dangling over the side. Tupou couldn’t remembered if he had taken it off, or if Mister Avery had.
At last, it was happening. Tupou let out a baritone moan that echoed in the tiny cement-walled office. His cock throbbed, instantly running to full erection in Mister Avery’s hand. Tupou was uncut, well more than a foot long, his dick flopping at first before it was as hard as iron.
Mister Avery stroked it slowly, teasing him, his other hand continuing to caress Tupou’s chest and shoulders. Tupou licked his lips. He wanted to demand that Mister Avery start jerking him off — the other players had implied it was allowed, after all — but he had a feeling it would be better to not say it out loud. It seemed a lot of Americans were more willing to do things like this as long as they never had to admit they had done them.
Indeed, his teammates only communicated about Mister Avery’s “full massages” through sarcasm, jokes, accusations, etc. Nobody admitted clearly that they themselves had done so. Americans never say what they mean.
“Hmmm… You were tense, Tupou. You must have been stressed out about moving to America,” Mister Avery said softly. He leaned over and sucked a few beads of sweat off in the valley between Tupou’s powerful pecs.
“Yes.” Tupou’s voice rumbled and resonated, the sound booming in Mister Avery’s ears because he was still bent over, licking his chest, so the sound was close to his head. He sucked on both nipples.
Avery’s head moved lower, his kisses and his soft lips making a trail down Tupou’s belly to his crotch. Tupou closed his eyes as his dick disappeared down Mister Avery’s throat. A wave of soft, blissful pleasure enveloped him, and Tupou stretched his arms and legs like he was just waking up.
“Eeeeehhhh…” Tupou groaned. His whole muscular body rippled from head to toe.
It had been a long time since Tupou had gotten jerked off by a man, the last time he did it was back in Tonga. He wasn’t even aware how horny he was until he finally felt a warm mouth encircle his dick once more. He moaned, his pitching island accent shining through in the sound as it resonated in the office.
For the first time, Mister Avery felt like he was being seduced by a player instead of the other way around. They often came to him wanting handjobs, but they never outright asked for it, and they certainly never asked for it. Instead, the other players usually just let themselves get hard while he massaged their shoulders or refused to take their jockstraps off because of an erection, and Mister Avery would “convince” them to let him help out. When they wanted to bust a nut, they just stood there hemming and hawing, refusing to either lay down or leave, until Mister Avery took the initiative to get on his knees.
But Tupou was different. He guided Mister Avery’s head in place, and he made sweet love to his throat like no football player ever had. Mister Avery tasted the sweet and fresh flavor of Tupou’s cock, which tasted of sunlight and ocean waves. He moaned and guzzled it down deep.
Salty precum flowed. Tupou was young and virile, already nearing orgasm though Mister Avery suspected he would last longer than most men his age. His dick was slick with fluids, which Mister Avery guzzled down.
The dome didn’t last long. Tupou was too large — both overall and in his cock specifically — and too enthusiastic. He gripped Mister Avery’s head and rolled around with him on the couch, like he might find an alternate throat in there big enough for Tupou’s entire cock. He plowed in and out with all his might, but somehow it didn’t come across like a violent throating. It was more of a plain and pleasant love-making session, and it made Mister Avery swoon with desire, hands roaming all over Tupou’s powerful thighs and thunderous asscheeks.
Eventually Mister Avery pulled off his dick, leaving thin tendrils of saliva collecting his lips to Tupou’s shaft. Tupou gasped with desire and wiped up all that spit and precum on his shaft, wiping it off on Mister Avery’s chin.
He was used to his men laying there, maybe pretending to be asleep or to think that his love-making was a form of massage. But Tupou took charge and made love to Mister Avery’s mouth.
And then, all in one smooth motion, he had Mister Avery bent over the couch. Tupou towered over him, flexing his chest muscles and gently but firmly forcing his cock into Mister Avery’s tight ass.
“Damn.” Mister Avery muttered through gritted teeth. He rarely got it up the ass — he enjoyed it, it was just a step too far for most of his players, so he didn’t do it very often. He grimaced as Tupou’s cock invaded his ass.
It was tight and pinching. Mister Avery sucked in his breath. Tupou wrapped Mister Avery’s tiny body up in his massive arms, plowing in inexorably though not cruelly. Just like when he had lovingly rammed his dick in and out of Mister Avery’s throat, Tupou had a way of plowing that was both aggressive and soft, sensitive yet hard and difficult and strugglesome in all the right ways. Mister Avery cried out for more.
The pain turned very quickly into pleasure, and when Tupou’s uncut dickhead hit his prostate, a jolt of pleasure wracked Mister Avery’s body, and a shiver of mind-numbing sensations ran up his spine. It felt so good he literally drooled and had to wipe the fluids off his lips, which still tasted of Tupou’s precum.
The couch strained to support them both as Tupou rammed his cock in and out. Tupou was gigantic and he plowed in an animated way, rocking the couch to its foundations and even making the floor creak. Somehow the rickety old office couch held despite its creaking and wheezing.
Mister Avery was shocked at how easy it was to take. For him, Tupou’s massive size was a challenge he wanted to rise to meet. Tupou was not used to that because the university girls he had been with since coming to America (and most of the Tongan girls back home) found his size a turn-off. Tupou was well-practiced in using his dick as gently as he could, so he managed to get it all in without too much difficulty, much to his surprise.
So they both moaned as they plowed hard. Mister Avery barely needed to jack himself off, which was good because Tupou plowed so hard he barely could. Mister Avery cried out, grunting and groaning loud enough that he was sure anyone outside the office could hear.
Hopefully, he thought, no one was there.
An orgasm ripped through Mister Avery’s body, and he shot his wad onto the couch. As he experienced the most incredible climax of his life, Tupou reached his own orgasm. He shot a huge load that filled Mister Avery’s tight ass.
It soaked into his flesh. They both sighed, and Tupou grunted something in Tongan. The indecipherable words rang out in Mister Avery’s ears as cum flowed through him, and the creamy, sticky texture of it coated Mister Avery’s body.
They both moaned together. “Oh god, yes, Tupou…” Mister Avery murmured. Every time he thought it was over, more cum filled into him, great gobs of it, more and more with every passing moment. Was that because he was so big? Mister Avery wondered, or maybe it was because he was a young and virile man? Or was it that he was a little — or a lot — socially inept and hadn’t had a girlfriend since coming to America? Maybe a little of all those things, Mister Avery thought, or maybe Tupou simply had overfull balls.
In any case, Mister Avery accepted every drop, letting it flow into him and seep into his flesh. There was so much cum in his body Mister Avery imagined he could taste its salty flavor.
Mister Avery laid limp on the couch, while Tupou groaned and humped his hips a few more times. When he was satisfied that every drop of cum had escaped his dick, he sighed and leaned back. Then he was motionless for a moment. At last he grunted again, and twisted his hips as though his post-orgasmic bliss felt so good it hurt. His cock popped out.
Mister Avery took a deep, relieved breath. He turned his head to smile at Tupou and gently rubbed his shoulders. “Good job, Tupou. I hope you feel better now.”
“I do, Mister Avery.” Tupou’s big goofy grin spread over his face. “If I need another massage, can I come see you again?”
“You can come see me anytime,” Mister Avery said with a smile.

The Politician

When Avery lobbies a presidential candidate on some pet issues, he didn’t realize what he was in for! The studly Governor Harold Tamperton is ready to give Avery the reacharound of a lifetime in exchange for political support, an exchange that’s worth every penny to Avery!

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Or read the whole thing here!

Avery sighed. Was Mr. Tamperton going to stand him up? He would have thought not — Avery was representing an important lobby group, and Mr. Tamperton’s campaign was who set this up. They reached out to Avery, not the other way around. Now Mr. Tamperton was an hour late. Avery had come to assume politicians would always be late — that was in their DNA. A part of him had believed Charlie Tamperton’s claim that he would be different. A part of him hoped Tamperton would be different.
But mostly, Avery suspected that Charlie Tamperton would not be different at all.
The hotel lobby was fashionably minimalist, with carpet softer than most mattresses and of the most exquisitely vibrant shade of white Avery had ever seen, it was sort of an electric white, like the white equivalent of neon pink, and it was spotless. Shockingly spotless, like fresh off the factory, not a single smudge or mote of dullness. That and an odd statue were the only things of note in the vault-like minimalist “splendor” of the Granger Ben Hotel.
Minimalist doesn’t mean spending less on decor, it means spending more on less decor. The elite will always spend to make sure the peons know they can. In the olden days, they did so by hiring a hundred artisans to work for a lifetime decorating every inch of a cathedral. Now they hire the equivalent in man-hours to create, install and clean a fantastically expensive alabaster carpet that gets steam-cleaned every ten minutes and one statue that was hard to identify but might have been a goat in a bathtub and which may have had a feminist bent. Avery couldn’t quite put his finger on what was feminist about it. It had a plaque, but he was not going to read a goddamn plaque about a feminist, like in a museum, but anyway, both the goaty shape and the bathtubby shape had a feminist air about them. So instead of hiring stonecarvers and woodworkers to build a cathedral for seventy years, they pay a couple million up front for some absurdly dumb feminist goat in a feminist bathtub and a million or two in wages over many years to various cleaners, installers, repairers, etc. They spend just as much, but they call it minimalist.
Avery would rather employ stonecarvers and woodworkers than feminists and cleaning crews. Plus, there’d be more to look at when he sat here twiddling his thumbs like a fucking idiot, waiting an hour and a half for that billionaire shitheel Charlie Tamperton. Avery was definitely deleting his dumbass apps. Except the one with the ostrich that finds coupons.
“There you are, Mr. Flowers,” said a suited man who appeared next to Avery, startling him. How he snuck up to Avery in a minimalist hotel lobby, with nothing to hide behind except six uncomfortable chairs, ten dead-eyed staff and a goat-in-a-bathtub’s worth of feminism, Avery will never figure out. Somehow the Asian man with the dead eyes and swampy cologne managed to surprise him. He gave Avery a polite nod. “I’m Delaney Chu, Mr. Tamperton’s campaign manager. He’s ready to see you now.”
Avery nodded and shook his hand, wondering where Tamperton had come from — Avery was sitting in the front lobby of the hotel, and he hadn’t seen Tamperton enter. He must have slipped in through a service entrance, presumably to avoid the mob of journalists outside. The Democratic primary was heating up, and Tamperton was no doubt being followed by both the press and his opponents’s trackers.
“Mr. Tamperton is very excited for this opportunity,” Delaney said. “He’s wanted to reach out to the legitimate-massage community for a long time. Honestly it’s my fault he hasn’t, blame me for that. He’s been telling me for months that we’ve got to make some allies there. And he’s totally right.”
“I see,” Avery said. He didn’t really believe Delaney — not that he thought Delaney was lying, exactly, but it made sense for Mr. Tamperton to focus on consolidating the main wings of the Democratic Party. He had risen to prominence with a series of sharply worded statements in accordance with Avery’s views, including a harsh eye aimed at the prostitution industry, especially the semi-legal massage parlors that make it hard for legitimate companies to operate. Avery’s business couldn’t compete in advertising with literally all of the city’s pimps and hookers, but many city governments across the country had decided it was better to the semi-tolerate semi-legal semi-businesses of pimps and madams, and they had no interest in supporting the operations of legitimate massage companies. Avery had formed and then found himself in charge of a lobby group devoted to legitimate-massage businesses, and as the presidential race heated up, Avery found his little pressure group rising to the top of the Democratic Party. That wasn’t because it was a huge pressure group, precisely the opposite. All the huge pressure groups had committed to a candidate months or years ago. Avery’s was one of the few groups that hadn’t yet committed to a candidate.
The immigrant-rights community nationwide had rallied around Avery and rocketed him to the top of the Democratic Party’s primary polling in the early months. That was not his intent — a lot of immigrants were masseurs, that was why. So the conventional wisdom was that candidates could nail down Avery’s endorsement and garner votes from the anti-prostitution folks and the immigrants.
Now that the first primaries and caucuses loomed closer, some of the more minor candidates were getting traction. Mr. Tamperton’s endless barrage of media-grabbing statements dominated the news, while Vermont Governor Paul Thandrasepkatar got some key endorsements, especially from a handful of celebs. Tamperton had come out on the wrong side of the police brutality debate, which made it hard for the ultra-leftists to support him. Governor Thandrasepkatar had come out in support of some popular things, which Mr. Tamperton couldn’t support without being seen as a flip-flopper. So despite Tamperton’s initial success, Governor Thandrasepkatar was vacuuming up support.
Avery represented one of the few immigrant civil rights organizations that hadn’t yet endorsed Thandrasepkatar, and he knew Tamperton was going to be desperate for a way back in to the good graces of the immigrant community. He wondered what Tamperton would say today to dominate the news cycle tomorrow, and he hoped it wasn’t at his expense.
Of course none of that had anything to do with legitimate massage. But more than two-thirds of the dues-paying businesses in Avery’s lobby group were owned by immigrants, and there were a lot more immigrants than legitimate massuers in this country.
Avery was so lost in thought he didn’t notice that Delaney was taking him downstairs, to the basement. He wasn’t going to a hotel room at all.
In the basement of the hotel — the basement had no decoration either, just more spotless white in the form of painted walls, which again had no smuges or fingerprints or faded spots —Delaney brought Avery past the pool. They stopped in front of a door marked SAUNA. He smiled and held the door open, motioning for Avery to squeeze in past the pair of burly bodyguards who stood sentry.
“Mr. Tamperton is getting a steam,” Delaney said. “But he’ll see you now. Feel free to take off your clothes.”
There was a little changing area in the front of the sauna. Avery entered and nervously took off his clothes. He had always loved saunas — that was his favorite part of his recent trip to Finland. It was only as Avery wrapped a towel around his waist and walked into the sauna that he realized he had posted about the trip, and his effusive love for saunas, on Facebook.
That was why Tamperton arranged for a meeting here. He looked through Avery’s Facebook timeline until he found out what he liked: saunas. It felt like pandering, it was patronizing. It was hard to take notes in the steamy sauna too, which made Avery wonder if Tamperton’s plan was to prevent Avery from keeping a record of what he said.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Flowers,” Mr. Tamperton said. His face was shrouded by steam. “Please, call me Tamperton. Don’t you love this sauna? It’s the greatest, I’m a yuge fan of saunas. The steam is wonderful for the skin.”
“Yeah, I’m sure,” Avery said. “Well… Tamperton, I’m sure you realize why I agreed to meet with you. The organization I represent-“
“Wait, wait, Avery, let’s not jump right into business,” Mr. Tamperton said. “Let’s just chat a bit. I’d like to get to know you.”
Avery shrugged as he sat down. The sauna was so misty and dim that he hadn’t seen Tamperton until he got to the bench he sat on. That’s when he clocked that Tamperton was stark naked, not even wearing a towel around his waist.
His body was more powerful than it seemed when he wore a suit on television, Avery thought. Tamperton had a barrel chest, not at all saggy from age, and though the hair on his head was ruddy and balding, the hair on his chest was fresh, dark and just thick enough to grab nd hold onto. He was stronger than Avery had thought he would be, and perhaps most surprisingly, he had a massive cock resting between his sweaty thighs.
This was definitely not how Avery had expected this interview to progress. He wondered how he could bring this up at the next meeting without looking like a Tamperton fanboy excited to see his crush’s cock. That wasn’t at all how Avery felt He had never thought of Tamperton as having an excellent physique until just now, when his naked, sweat-dappled body was right in front of Avery’s eyes.
And now Avery found his eyes drawn to that magnificant cock.
“How are you enjoying the campaign?” Avery asked, nervous at sitting next to someone so intensely masculine, not to mention a powerful billionaire. The humid sauna-sweat glistened on his broad chest and shoulders, and when he touched his own chin, he left a trail of moisture that ran down his the curves of his pecs in rivulets.
“I’m enjoying it plenty, I love this kind of scrappy repartée, the exchange of ideas, the Sturm und Drang of it all,” he said. “The one problem is that I never see my wife.”
“That’s tough. Being president is even tougher though,” Avery said. A part of him had always been worried that Tamperton wasn’t serious — being president wasn’t like being CEO of a professional rugby team (that was one of Tamperton’s high-profile business ventures). He was going to have to be on duty all the time.
“Sure, sure, I can’t wait. I’ll enjoy that, honestly. My wife will be there in the White House with me. She can’t travel on the campaign trail with me, but she would gladly move into the White House. She’s already picking out curtains,” he said. Then he cleared his throat nervously. “Look… I’m gonna have trouble concentrating on this interview if we don’t do something about…” He gestured towards his crotch. “Without my wife at my side at nights, I need another way to let off a little steam.” He laughed as he gestured to the steam that filled the sauna.
“I’m sorry, Tamperton?”
“Do you want to jerk me off?”
“… I’m sorry, Tamperton?”
“Of course you can’t put it in your article. I’ll deny it. Not even my bodyguards out there know what we’re doing in here,” he said. He shrugged. “You don’t have to. I just thought you were the kind of man who knows your way around a cock.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “Don’t pretend you haven’t been checking me out.”
Avery nodded and blushed.
Before he could do anything else, Tamperton leaned in and kissed him. Avery was so shocked he just sat there like a dead fish at first, then shoved his tongue in Tamperton’s mouth. They collapsed onto the sauna bench, with Tamperton on top of Avery, his burly body weighing him down and his heavy cock pressing into Avery’s thigh.
“Oh… Mr. Tamperton-“
“Call me Tamperton.”
“Tamperton…!”
Tamperton kissed a trail down Avery’s neck and chest. He suckled on each nipple until it was hard, and he smiled at Avery. “You see, I do respect immigrants. I love the immigrants. Not to mention massage. Massage has helped so many of my rugby players with physical ailments.” His breath condensed on Avery’s nape. “I’ll do whatever I can to help the industry.”
“I see…”
His back arched as pleasure shot through him. Tamperton gave his dick a few strokes. It pulsated between Tamperton’s thick fingers, as Avery dragged his own fingers through Tamperton’s thinning reddish hair. The body heat emanating off Tamperton merged with the humid warmth of the sauna, and Avery found his hands moving over the well-worked muscle of Charlie Tamperton’s chest and back.
Then Tamperton lowered his head, as he kissed Avery again on the lips, then the chin, the neck, and a moan of passion came out of both men. Avery sucked in his breath.
This was not how he thought this little foray into lobbying would pan out.
His hands fluttering and running all up and down Tamperton’s well-muscled back, Avery leaned back, thinking Tamperton would soon stop kissing. But no, his kisses moved lower and lower.
Then, before Avery knew it, Tamperton’s mouth encircled Avery’s dick. Avery was astonished to feel his lips on Avery’s cock, but he was too aroused to even process what was happening. He continued lowering his head, still holding his breath as his heart raced, until Avery was laying on the sauna bench on his back. He reached for Tamperton’s crotch, and he hefted that fat erection in one, then both, hands.
With Tamperton atop him, Avery and he arranged their bodies to sixty-nine, with Tamperton on top, his plump, piggish prick aimed right for Avery’s mouth. He was so huge and heavy that Avery could barely wrap his arms around Tamperton’s body.
Avery opened up, feeling that familiar sensation of hot meat invading his throat. His fingers clenched Tamperton’s thick back and ass, as precum invaded his mouth. Avery sucked vigorously, deep-throating and swallowing every inch of his meat. They writhed together, in unison, and for a little while, Avery forgot that Tamperton was part of the political and business elite.
Tamperton’s muscles tightened and flexed above Avery. Tamperton was in much better shape than he had seemed, and Avery could feel the power bristling just below the surface of his body. He had the muscle of the rugby players he employed, Avery thought, wondering if he worked out with his athletes. He was a tech guy, originally and mainly, Tamperton built his business off apps. But he was never a slim computer geek, and his patronage of the American Rugby League was well-known.
The rugby players probably sauna together, Avery realized as he slurped on the savory cock invading his throat. Tamperton might sauna with them.
He loved the man’s body hair too, just thick enough to be unkempt and furry, but not so thick as to be dirty or offputting. He smelled clean and strong, even his dick and despite the sauna-induced sweat that covered his body. His balls were thick and heavy, without the old man-droopiness that Avery had rather assumed he would have.
Precum flooded Avery’s mouth. He enjoyed the sour and salty flavor of precum, not to mention the creamy texture, and he savored it in his mouth now as well. He let it coat his tongue, which ran up and down Tamperton’s veiny shaft. Avery was leaking precum too, and Tamperton swallowed it like he was well-practiced. Avery wondered how often Tamperton had done this before.
He did not do it like a man exploring something new. He did it like this was old hat.
“Wait,” Tamperton said, pulling out just as Avery neared his orgasm. His hefty body hovered above Avery, who gasped in desperate need for more. His cocktip dangled tantalizingly near, just centimeters above Avery’s head. Tamperton smiled. “I’m gonna ram you now, okay? In the ass. I need a tight booty, and I can tell you are gonna be taut as a drum.” He caressed Avery’s smooth belly and added, “I’m gonna tap your ass good, Avery. You won’t be walking straight for a week. You like it like that?”
Avery nodded. “Hell yeah.”
“Do I have your endorsement?”
“I…” Avery gulped. “I need your support on-“
“Of course, of course. The proposed legislation, right? The Massage Rescue Plan? I can absolutely support that, and I promise, if elected president, I will do everything possible to ensure it gets through Congress,” he said. He stood, letting his erection bob around afront Avery’s face. Avery chased it with his tongue until he sensed Tamperton’s bemused gaze.
Then Avery serioused up. Despite his own erection and his strong desire to handle Tamperton’s, Avery only shrugged. “Well then, I guess we can support you — it’s not entirely up to me, you know?”
“I understand. Just tell them what I said — what I said about the Massage Rescue Plan — and that you believe me,” Tamperton said. He teased his knobtip on Avery’s lips. “You do believe me, don’t you?”
“Fuck yes!” Avery exclaimed. He felt bad about selling out his endorsement so easily, but he reasoned that it wasn’t really up to him anyway. He’d tell his committee the political promises Tamperton made, and if that was enough, they’d take their endorsement public. Supporting that in private was the most Avery could do. He wasn’t sure Tamperton understood that, but Avery was not in a position to explain the nuances of his lobby group’s mechanisms.
In one smooth motion, Charlie Tamperton stood, holding Avery in his powerful arms. He flipped Avery over, then bent him over the bench and spread his asscheeks. Avery’s knees went weak even before penetration began. He couldn’t believe this was happening to him, and he wondered if anyone would believe him if he told. Probably not, he decided as Tamperton’s broadly muscled chest rippled behind him, rubbing on Avery’s smooth back.
Tamperton must have had a bottle of lube hidden somewhere nearby, because Avery felt that slippery coldness, which was a pleasant sensation contrasting with the humid warmth of the sauna. The lube slid into his ass and spread to every corner, making him feel all slippery inside. Already Avery felt Tamperton’s hot cock throbbing against the small of his back, and Avery had to hold back a chest-rattling howl of desire.
“Here it comes, Avery, be ready for it,” Tamperton said, using his toned arms to hold Avery in place. The fact that he said Avery’s name turned him on — it felt good to know he was on a first-name basis with someone like this. People often treated him as though he should have personal connections in the government and business elite because of his position in this lobby group, but he didn’t, until now. Tamperton was the only major politician he’d ever met.
“I’m ready…”
A burst of pleasure erupted in his ass as Tamperton’s thick meat pushed inside. Avery gasped and writhed in his arms, struggling to take in its thickness. He reached behind himself with one hand to guide it in, so he could only support himself with the other hand.
Tamperton wrapped both arms around Avery’s body and held him tight, lifting him up so he didn’t have to support himself on his hands at all. Avery’s feet were barely on the floor at all. He ground his ass into Tamperton’s crotch, while feeling his hairy chest grind against Avery’s back.
“Oh god… I secretly love your budget proposal,” Avery blurted out. He hadn’t meant to say that, hadn’t even really thought it firmly to himself. But he felt so good that his internal filter disappeared, and so he moaned on a few more words about tax rates and progressivity before losing track of his thoughts.
“Really? I’m glad you like it, Avery…” His voice was low and guttural, aimed directly in Avery’s ears. Again, when he said Avery’s name, it sent a shiver of sexual energy up Avery’s spine, which caused him a spasm of pain and pleasure as it made his ass twinkle. Avery wondered if Tamperton knew how arousing it was to hear him call out Avery’s name.
One of Tamperton’s hands crept around to Avery’s dick and began stroking it. Avery was already so close to orgasm that his whole body twitched and pulsated as though his touch was painful. Avery moaned so loud he wondered if the bodyguards outside could hear, but if they did, they didn’t say anything or even poke their head in.
Despite Avery’s animated response to his touch, Tamperton didn’t slow down. He forced his dick in and out, hard enough that Avery felt overwhelming agony that was drowned out by the bliss emanating from his ass. He moaned around the thick arm that caressed his neck and face.
He finally shot his load just as Tamperton reached his own climax. Hot cum sprayed from his dick and covered the bench beneath him. Avery moaned and squirmed beneath Tamperton’s grasp. His back rippled as his muscles all tightened at once, and Tamperton held him tight. It felt like they were melting together, becoming one person, and Avery even had a momentary fantasy of him moving into the White House with Tamperton.
Wad after wad of creamy seed burst forth within Avery’s spasming body. It coated his insides and dripped down his legs as Avery’s spine undulated. Pleasure coursed through his veins. He gasped and fell limp, supported only by Tamperton’s strong arms.
Then it was over. Avery had no idea how long it had lasted. His orgasm felt like it might have gone on for hours, though he knew that was impossible — Tamperton’s retinue would have come in to get him by now. He must not have been as loud as it felt like he was too. Bodyguards would definitely have come in if they heard Avery scream the way it sounded in Avery’s own ears.
Tamperton pulled out, sending a shiver of relief up Avery’s back. His jizz continued seeping through his body and dripping down his thighs. Tamperton whistled his appreciation. “That was nice, Avery,” he said. “Reminds me why I’m not loyal to women. They don’t do it like that, and if they did, they’d still want to cuddle and talk about feelings afterwards. You don’t want to do that, do you, Avery?”
“No,” Avery said. The last thing he wanted to do now was talk about feelings. Cuddling did sound appealing, but once the orgasmic afterglow wore off in a few minutes, he’d be tired of it and their bodies would be hot and sticky.
“Good,” Tamperton said. He held Avery close in his powerful arms, where Avery felt safe and protected. He could see why people supported Tamperton politically — even if he was obviously full of hot air, he was confident and swaggerous, and it made Avery feel less vulnerable to be there scooped up in his arms.
“That was amazing, Mr. Tamperton… Tamperton, I mean,” Avery said. “Are you really a big supporter of the legitimate-massage industry?”
“I really am. It’s vital to the athletes who work for me, and I have always insisted that my companies offer massage as part of the healthcare and benefits package,” he said with a deep breath. “I’m so glad to have your support. I look forward to your organization campaigning with me.”
“that’s really up to the board,” Avery said. He blushed as he straightened out his sore legs — he thought Tamperton was right about him not being able to walk straight for a little while, at least not without concentrating intensely. “But I’ll recommend we come out to support you.”
“Thank you, and Avery?”
“Yes,” Avery said as Tamperton stood up and headed towards the door.
“When I win, I want you to visit me in the White House. You can arrange that, right?”
“That won’t be a problem,” Avery said.
“Good. We can have a wau-wau and… do other things, things that are definitely going to be off the record,” Tamperton said with a knowing grin. “The Lincoln Bedroom will never be the same.”