Duncan Walsh is an alpha male mechanic with a pain in his knee, for which he has to see a masseur… and he never thought he’d have some muscle-bound long-haired stud like Johan. Can Duncan submit to Johan’s specialized brand of manly healing?
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Duncan Walsh went to the massage parlor kind of hoping that nothing gonna happen. He never wanted to come here. This did not look like his kind of place. It was ornately decorated, sumptuous with dense carpets, incense burning and colorful tapestries. There was a statue of Buddha, fat and jolly and wise, made of gleaming brass with stone inlays.
He shifted nervously on his feet. Duncan had never in his life gotten a massage, not even informally from a girlfriend or anything like that. He wondered if he was supposed to get naked. Was he too dirty? Was he supposed to take a shower first? No one told him that.
In this rundown corner of the state, most people looked more like Duncan than the fey Asian man at the desk inside. Duncan was tall, broad-shouldered, clad in heavy workboots, with a grizzled jaw that was painfully square and so tan it was indistinguishable from dirty. He wore a knee brace atop his black jeans, and he walked with a limp in his right leg.
That’s why he was here. His insurance company wanted him to get a massage before they paid for more expensive treatments. Duncan did not like the idea of some stranger pawing over his body.
He didn’t visit prostitutes, but he would rather have gotten an awkward handjob from some skeezy lady than get a real massage from one of these thin Asian men. A scowl plastered itself on Duncan’s face. Fortunately, this was not a prostitution kind of massage parlor, he knew that. He’d made that clear to the insurance company bitch on the phone. He told that man, in no uncertain terms, that if his insurance was gonna make him go get a happy ending, he’d be fighting that shit in court, you best believe it. Duncan would see that insurance bitch in hell before he sees him at a happy ending massage parlor.
Duncan Walsh was a Christian man.
The masseur he was seeing was named Johan, and he was a certified medical professional. That was why Duncan’s insurance company sent him here. He was the only qualified masseur in this town, where Duncan worked as a mechanic at a local garage.
What kind of an Asian name was Johan anyway? It didn’t really sound Chinese or Japanese, he thought. Korean? Vietnamese? There were pictures of snow-capped mountains in the massage room he waited in and pictures of a man skiing. There was a flag too. It wasn’t Japanese, but Duncan couldn’t place it (Japan was the only Asian country whose flag he could picture off the top of his head).
The door opened, and Johan walked in. Duncan’s heart sank.
Johan was not a slim Asian man at all. He was taller than Duncan, and at least as muscular. His shoulders were broad, his chest strapping. He was arguably in better shape than Duncan, which made Duncan furrow his brow. Duncan was strong but meaty, not a six-packed handsome stud like Johan. Johan had long blond hair like a man from the cover of a romance novel. He glanced at Duncan and smiled. He spoke with an odd, singsong accent — Swedish — and introduced himself. He discussed Duncan’s pain and had him take his clothes off. Duncan hesitated but did so. He left his underwear on.
He definitely felt dirty. There were smudges of grease on his legs. He had come straight from work. Johan was very clean, and he smelled like soap. That annoyed Duncan. Swedes were a clean people, right? Johan was probably thinking badly of Duncan, like he was some trashy American redneck, Johan was sophisticated and European, probably a nobleman or something. Duncan wrinkled his nose at that thought.
Obviously that was a silly thing to think. Johan may have a noble nose like an emperor and a strong jawline, but he was just a masseur. Hardly a, whatever, a grand duke or something.
He lifted Duncan’s leg, which caused agonizing pain, and Duncan sucked in his breath. But then Johan massaged the meat above and below Duncan’s leg. Duncan nearly stopped him because the pain grew so bad, and he writhed on the massage table.
“Oh, hey… Oh oh, shit, oooooh, shit, are you… is it…. Oooh shit…”
But Johan just ignored him and kept massaging. After a minute or two, the pain in Duncan’s knee let up substantially. His jagged grunts of pain turned to a sigh of relief, as Johan’s firm hands moved down to his calf. Duncan closed his eyes and tried to relax.
“You have much tension in you, yes,” Johan said. He sounded like the Swedish Chef, Duncan thought, but with one of those very deep voices that rattled your bones. A lot of people said Duncan had a voice like that, but his was softer, raspier, gentler — Johan was taller, so his voice was achingly baritone.
“Yeah.” Duncan didn’t think he could relax while he was being pawed by this great big Swede. He gasped and sighed — was this almost over? He didn’t think he could take it.
And then a great sense of please overtook him. He relaxed almost instantly, and his knee felt so much better he had to look down to see if something was wrong. But no, the massage had just worked extremely well, at least for the moment.
“Wow, that feels… a lot better,” Duncan said. He looked around as though to find a way out of the massage room. He kind of wished this didn’t help. He was annoyed by Johan’s handsomeness. He can’t be both handsome and competent. That wasn’t fair. Duncan looked at Johan with hostility in his eyes, which Johan either didn’t notice or didn’t care about.
“That is good for certain, yes,” Johan said with a baritone grunt. “I must use oil now.” He grabbed a bottle of sweet-smelling massage oil and squirted it onto his hands. He worked it into Duncan’s thighs. Duncan didn’t want to smell like flowers, but he didn’t complain.
Duncan realized he had an erection only moments before Johan grabbed onto it with his lubed-up hand. Every fiber of Duncan’s being told him to stop Johan, but it felt so good he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He just looked at it like a gory scene in a horror movie, one that he couldn’t tear his eyes away from.
“You will be better. You are tension too much,” Johan said with a grin. “It is okay. Do not have a worry.”
“Uh-huh.” Duncan’s teeth were gritted shut. He lifted his weight off his ass, jutting his hips upward.
His cock throbbed in Johan’s hand. Duncan couldn’t believe how good it felt. The massage oil sent a wave of warmth and arousal through his body, and that feeling made him moan like a seduced girl. He blushed.
Then Duncan’s dick disappeared into the burly Swede’s mouth. Duncan threw his head back and bit a lip. He was both humiliated and so turned-on he wanted to bust. His dick felt like it was going to explode.
This was the first time Duncan had ever jacked off with a man. Once he and his buddies had been in the city for a weekend, and they all got a blowjob from a slut in an alley. That was the first time Duncan had ever touched cocks with another man — one of his fellow mechanics insisted on jousting with him because Duncan had a legendarily huge cock (that they had all seen in the work showers) and he thought it would be funny to “touch tips on a bitch”.
And he was right, it was kind of funny.
Johan’s broad, muscular back rippled in front of Duncan’s face. Johan was built like a fieldhand. Duncan hadn’t wanted to get jacked off by anyone but himself, much less a man. If he had been forced into it, however, he would have preferred one of the fey Asian men. That would have been a lot like getting sucked off by a woman.
But this was nothing like a woman. It was, Duncan realized, the thought making him blush intently, far better.
Johan licked like a man, like he had a job to do and needed to do it the best he could. It wasn’t exactly erotic, though it did turn Duncan on and make his dick spew precum. Johan sucked on Duncan’s shaft deep, to the root, nose nestling in Duncan’s unkempt pubic hair. He throated like it was an attack, like he was violently annexing Duncan’s cock to his throat.
“Oh, god, Johan!” Duncan moaned. He writhed as though the pleasure emanating from his cock was actually pain. He touched Johan’s back, not deliberately, just as part of his flailing, and he shuddered at the sensation of his muscles writhing beneath Duncan’s fingers.
But he didn’t move his hand away. His mind screamed at him to stop, to let go of Johan’s back — there was sweat there too, clinging to Duncan’s skin where he touched it — yet he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. It was like clutching a barrel of rope. Duncan was strong, but he was not muscular like that, he had never had a six-pack. He had always had a thin layer of pudge over his powerful body. He had never had muscle-upon-muscle just beneath his taut skin, with seemingly not a drop of fat anywhere on him. Duncan was jealous (sort of — guys with bodies like that got made fun of, in Duncan’s experience, everyone loved teasing prettyboys and making them dirty).
He wasn’t used to being the small guy in the room. Duncan had hit six feet tall in the tenth grade, and he had only gotten taller since then. He was a baritone-voiced beast in most communities — only in this town was Duncan seen as normal or even small-sized in comparison to the average local.
A chill ran up Duncan’s spine. He realized his hand on Johan’s back had roamed lower. He didn’t mean to, but somehow his hand rested on Johan’s ass. This was all feeling too good. Duncan wished he had gone to another massage parlor.
He had never touched a male ass (aside from some male bonding and horseplay on his baseball team) until now. He gulped nervously. Still his mind wanted him to stop even as his body refused to comply. His hand gripped the firmness of Johan’s asscheeks.
Why am I doing this? Duncan felt like running away. His finger slipped into Johan’s asscrack. Was Johan manipulating him deliberately? Was it possible he had been hypnotized? Duncan knew that was ridiculous, but he couldn’t understand why his body failed to feel the same revulsion his mind did.
His finger slipped into Johan’s ass. Duncan had never even done that with a woman. Duncan had lied to his coworkers about that. They talked about giving girls “The Shocker” — a sex move where you put two fingers in a girl’s pussy and one in her asshole — during a late-night jaw session, and Duncan had felt left out, so he pretended he had done it. He wasn’t even sure it was a real thing, not just a joke. But everyone else reacted as though sticking a finger in a girl’s ass was normal, and Duncan had pretended the same thing.
In truth, Duncan was not very experienced with women. He was bold and confident when it came to his muscles, to work, to sports and to violence — he had been a high school wrestler and briefly, an amateur boxer — but he was completely lacking in confidence with girls. He’d only had sex with three women in his lifetime (he told his fellow roughnecks seven), and he’d only screwed one of them more than one time. He’d gotten his dick in that girl’s ass once, but she said it was too big and it hurt too much, so he had barely gotten started before she called it off.
It had felt amazing though. For those first few seconds when he had the first inch or so of his dick inside her tight, virginal asshole, he had nearly cum right there. Now he couldn’t even wait to do that again. Damn did he love that! Now that he was jacking off with the masseur, Duncan felt hornier than ever. The anxiety over the situation had morphed into a desire to bust a fat nut, which was exactly what he was about to do, he thought, pleasure coursing through his veins. Johan’s throat was hot and moist, and it squeezed his dick just right. Duncan gasped and bit his lip.
His finger slipped into Johan’s tight asshole. He was presumably not intact like that girl had been, but Duncan was still shocked at how tight his ass was. Did the masseur take dick in his ass? Maybe this was as strange for him as it was for Duncan. Duncan’s pinkie finger struggled in. Duncan gurgled and bucked at shock that he would do such a thing.
Johan grunted around the cock in his throat. He licked the shaft, slathering spit up and down it. Duncan couldn’t tear his eyes away from his finger plugged into Johan’s bubble-butt. Copious saliva dripped down his oil-slicked thigh.
“Oh god,” Duncan gasped as Johan finally pulled off his cock. Duncan sat up, but Johan just pushed him onto his back again on the massage table. “Uh… So, uh…”
“Shush,” Johan said. “Do not talk. It is not needed. I will give you relaxation and take away any of it, the tension that is inside of you, yes?”
“Oh, uh…”
“Yes, excellent, good, very good,” Johan said. “You will do.” He stroked Duncan’s dick, the waves of pleasure his hand sent up Duncan’s spine distracted him enough that all he could do was sputter and mumble.
“Hm, oh, I see. Okay then, well, I uh… Okay, I see… Ah-hah, ah… Okay, well, that is, oh…” Duncan threw his head back. He couldn’t watch. He knew what was coming and he didn’t want to stop it — but even if he didn’t much like it, he definitely didn’t want to see it.
Johan’s huge body didn’t prevent him from being quick and graceful as he climbed up onto the massage table. He gripped the sides of it with his feet like a chimpanzee, barely fitting his hulking body atop the massage table, which didn’t seem strong enough to support two huge men.
But the massage table did hold.
“Oh god…” Duncan turned his head to the side so he didn’t have to see.
Johan sank down on his cock. Duncan sighed and Johan twitched as Duncan’s cock slipped into his tight ass. Johan stopped moving with his plump butt atop Duncan’s manhood. He took a deep breath and held it, closing his eyes. He groaned and ground his hips from side to side, moving his ass over Duncan’s cock.
“You are good, yes, okay?” Johan said. He leaned forward and massaged the meat of Duncan’s pecs. Duncan wasn’t used to being manhandled by someone so strong; it felt almost violent and painful, the way Johan rubbed his skin, like he wanted to rub Duncan’s pecs all the way off and get access to his innards that way. Duncan bristled and lifted his head up.
Duncan kept his hands up. He fleetingly touched Johan’s back, but it felt too real to touch his spasming muscles now. His shoulders were so firm, his back toned. Duncan wanted to look away, but there was nowhere else to look in the tiny massage room. He wondered if he could feel his own cock through Johan’s body, when his hands briefly touched Johan’s ass. Definitely not, he decided, since Johan was such a huge thickbody. A thin, delicate woman, maybe? Or one of those fey Asian men.
Oh how Duncan wished one of those Asian men might have come on to him. He would have refused that. It was ironic because, if he had given in and cornholed one of the Asian men, he would have felt more comfortable with it. But his more comfortable feelings also would have meant he just said no. It would be easy to say no to some minicing Asian man who probably weighed like a hundred and ten pounds.
Johan, however, had surprised him. Now Duncan wanted to keep going more than anything and could do little more than keep his hands above his head, watching his dick slide haltingly into Johan’s broad ass. Johan struggled and bit his lip as he lowered himself. He used his thighs to control his descent, making it slow and even, inch by inch. Duncan watched his cock disappear like he was being led to his own execution, which felt good for some strange morbid reason.
He tried to close his eyes, thinking it would be easier if he didn’t have to watch himself cornhole a man, but that was not easier. At least watching, he could watch Johan’s back writhing, and he could see that his cock was safe.
“Oh god, oh, god, oh god, yeah, yeah!” Duncan grimaced. He was definitely not gonna tell anyone he knew that he had done this.
All of a sudden Duncan recalled that a lot of roughnecks came to this massage parlor. Some of them surely knew Johan. Some of them probably got jacked off by Johan in precisely this way, he realized. That was disconcerting. Maybe they all knew this was going to happen and were laughing about it.
Or maybe Johan didn’t normally do this. Maybe they’d all call Duncan a freak if they knew.
“Your knee is feeling much better in your leg, yes, no?” Johan asked when his ass was all the way down on Duncan’s cock. He acted like that hardly mattered, like he hadn’t struggled to take it all. He rocked back and forth on Duncan’s cock as he leaned forward and rubbed Duncan’s knee again. “Does it have healing?”
His accent was not too hard to understand, but it was hard enough that Duncan had to stop and concentrate. He nodded and bit his lip. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from his cock. “Uh-huh.”
“Good, that is for excellency. That is healing, I am certain,” he said. “Do you have access to sauna?”
“Uh-huh.” Duncan didn’t really listen to the question. There was, of course, no sauna back at the garage at Screw Tight Auto Repair, but there was a shared showering area and next to it a little showering nook — technically it was the women’s shower, but there were no women, so it was mainly unused — that was sometimes adapted into a sauna. The vents were closed or blocked, and the showerheads were turned on, with all but one on the hottest possible setting. The men sat in there, naked in the dark since the fluorescent lightbulbs had never been replaced and no longer worked. The five hot showerheads and one cold one combined to fill the room with steam. Duncan and his friends would sit there and drink beer (kept cold in a cooler just outside the shower). He enjoyed that, in large part because he got the comfort of nudity without having to see or be seen due to the darkness.
“You should have use for sauna. It is Swedish, and it is very good for Swedes. It will enact many benefits for your knee,” Johan said.
“Ah. Okay.” Duncan sharply inhaled. He could not even think about his knee right now. His heart was about to pound out of his chest, and he wanted more than anything for Johan to move. But the giant Swede just stayed still with his ass full of Duncan’s cock. It squeezed and sent spasms of pleasure to wrack Duncan’s body, and Duncan sucked in his breath.
“The steam is doing much good, it is certain, for sure,” Johan said. “You can also do steam bath. That is a thing, yes, it is, right?”
“Uh-huh. Yep,” Duncan said. He had no idea what a steam bath was. His voice wavered and broke, which it continued doing even as he stopped talking and it was just his breathing that wavered and broke like a little boy’s voice.
“Excellent, it will do much to promote your healing, yes,” Johan said. “You will cum in me now.”
He took a deep breath and lifted his ass, at last moving it atop Duncan’s cock. Duncan gasped. Johan seemed practiced and proficient at this position, though it seemed very awkward for Duncan. Johan gripped the edges of the massage table with his toes and used his feet for leverage. He lifted himself almost all the way up off Duncan’s cock, so Duncan saw his entire pulsating, veiny shaft, then Johan lowered himself all the way back down.
When he planted himself on Duncan’s dick, it sent a wave of pleasure up Duncan’s spine. It was uncontrollably intense, mind-melting, and it made Duncan moan like no woman had ever caused — he was normally so shy and reserved during sex he barely made a peep.
But this was already so incredible and stressful that he could do nothing more than submit to it. He certainly couldn’t filter his reactions or feel shyness. He just submitted to the almighty power of Johan’s tight ass.
The orgasm that erupted within him was so powerful he thought his shaking would break the table. Duncan fully expected to plummet to the floor with that giant Swede on top of him — would that shatter my pelvis? He tried not to rock the table too much, but the feelings flowing through him were too potent not to move and shake.
“Oh god, yes!” Duncan screamed, the first time he had ever done anything more than grunt when he came.
An orgasm ripped through his body, as Johan did the same, spraying his wad onto the floor of his massage room. Duncan spurted his cum into Johan’s tight ass, sending jet after jet of his juices up inside Johan. Some of it ran right back down Duncan’s shaft, coating his manhood in it and soaking his pubic hair.
Johan sighed. Duncan grunted and gasped, feeling a mixture of relief, fear and pleasure. His hands gripped Johan’s ass again, despite his misgivings, and his fingers tightened into claws that held onto him tightly. Duncan gulped and bit his tongue as the last aftershocks of his orgasm wracked his body.
At last he was done. Duncan’s limbs fell limp, arms dangling off the sides of the massage table. Johan slowly, awkwardly lifted himself off Duncan’s cock. When his ass finally plopped off, both men sighed grandly. Intense relief flooded Duncan. His dick was painfully sensitive at first, and the cold air made him gasp again.
“You are very good, you are nice man,” Johan said. He stretched his legs and his arms. He smiled broadly. He pulled his long blond hair back.
“Uh-huh.”
He grabbed some tissues from the box on his counter. He wiped off Duncan’s cock and his own ass. Then he helped Duncan up. “You are complete now. You can be going. I will massage you again in two weeks, yes?”
“Uh… Yeah,” Duncan said. Once more, his mind told him to never return here again. His body wasn’t sure it could wait two whole weeks.
“Your insurance will cover two massages every time every month, every two weeks is appropriate, yes?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Excellent, good. I will do your dick too. It is good for you. Come back to see me,” he said.
“Oh, okay,” Duncan said as he hurriedly put his clothes back on.
Johan placed one thick, meaty hand on Duncan’s shoulder while Duncan laced up his heavy workboots. Duncan bristled but didn’t make him move. He just grabbed his shirt — it felt too confrontational to put it on while Johan caressed his bare back — and stood.
“Uh, thanks,” Duncan said. He turned around and walked out, shirt in hand. He could feel Johan’s eyes watching his ass shake in his faded dirt-caked jeans.
It was only as he walked out into the bright light of a warm summer day that Duncan knew what his decision was: yes. He’d spend the next two weeks listing all the reasons he shouldn’t come back. He was so focused on that he didn’t even notice how good his knee felt.
But at the end of it all, at the end of that last, was the only factor that really mattered: Duncan really wanted to do it again. He couldn’t wait to come back. Just so long as he didn’t have to tell anyone about it.