Aaron's Gay Massage

Aaron wiped down the reception counter at his small massage parlor, the scent of lavender oil lingering in the air. He'd sunk everything into opening this place six months ago, a cozy spot tucked away in the city's quieter district, catering to men seeking relief from the daily grind. At 28, with a lean, toned body from years of yoga and client work, Aaron knew his way around knots and tensions. But money was tight—rent, supplies, and payroll for his two employees ate into profits fast. Still, he loved the job, especially the thrill of those moments when a massage edged into something more intimate.

His staff, Jake and Tyler, were both in their early twenties, openly gay like him, and they kept the vibe light. Jake, with his broad shoulders and easy grin, handled the heavier deep-tissue sessions. Tyler, slimmer with a mischievous spark in his eyes, specialized in sensual Swedish techniques. When the schedule slowed or after hours, the three of them often unwound together—hands exploring, bodies pressing close in the back room, turning downtime into heated release. Aaron grinned at the thought, adjusting his tight white tank top that hugged his chest.

The bell above the door chimed, pulling him from his reverie. In walked a client: mid-thirties, broad-chested with a hint of a beer gut, dressed in jeans and a polo that strained against his arms. He looked stressed, shoulders hunched, scanning the room nervously.

"Welcome," Aaron said, flashing a warm smile. "First time? I'm Aaron, the owner. What can I do for you today?"

The man, who introduced himself as Mark, nodded. "Yeah, first timer. Just need to loosen up after a long week. Full body, hour-long?"

"Perfect. Follow me." Aaron led him to one of the dimly lit rooms, the soft hum of ambient music filling the space. He handed Mark a towel and fresh robe. "Strip down, lie face down under the sheet. I'll be back in a minute."

As Mark changed, Aaron prepped his oils, his mind already wandering to the possibilities. He needed the cash, and something about Mark's hesitant glances screamed curiosity. Aaron returned, hands slick with warm oil, and started on the broad back, kneading deep into the trapezius muscles.

"You carry a lot of tension here," Aaron murmured, his voice low and soothing. His thumbs pressed firmly, eliciting a groan from Mark. The massage flowed smoothly—shoulders, arms, lower back—until Aaron reached the glutes. He draped the sheet low, exposing the curve of Mark's ass, and began working the hips.

His fingers brushed the inner thigh, inching closer to the crease where leg met groin. Mark tensed but didn't pull away. Emboldened, Aaron let his pinky graze the heavy sac of balls hanging beneath, a 'slip' that sent a jolt through the client.

"Sorry," Aaron said casually, though his pulse quickened. "Tight spots everywhere today."

Mark mumbled something incoherent, face buried in the headrest. Aaron continued, now targeting the hamstrings, but each pass of his hands ventured bolder—fingertips skimming the sensitive skin behind the balls, hovering just shy of the puckered hole. Mark's breathing grew ragged, his body shifting subtly.

"Everything okay?" Aaron asked, leaning in close, his breath warm against Mark's ear.

"Y-yeah," Mark stammered. "Feels... good."

Aaron smirked, flipping the script to have Mark turn over. The sheet tented slightly at the man's crotch, cock half-hard and straining. Aaron oiled up the chest, circling nipples that pebbled under his palms, then down the abs. As he reached the hips again, his hand 'accidentally' cupped the balls fully this time, rolling them gently.

Mark gasped, hips bucking. "Whoa—"

"My bad," Aaron lied smoothly, not retreating. Instead, he massaged the inner thighs, letting his knuckles bump the base of the thickening shaft. "But if you're enjoying it... I could make this even better. For a little extra, say fifty bucks? No pressure."

Mark's face flushed, eyes darting to Aaron's. The masseuse held his gaze, hand still teasing the underside of the balls, thumb circling perilously close to the asshole. The air thickened with unspoken want.

"I... yeah," Mark finally whispered, voice hoarse. "Okay."

Aaron's grin widened. He peeled back the sheet fully, exposing Mark's rigid cock, veined and leaking pre-cum at the tip. Without a word, Aaron dropped to his knees beside the table, spreading Mark's legs wider. He started at the base, tongue flicking out to lap at the heavy balls, sucking one into his mouth with a wet pop. Mark moaned, fingers gripping the table edges.

Aaron lavished attention there, tongue tracing the seam, then ventured lower. He nudged Mark's thighs apart further, burying his face between the cheeks. His tongue probed the tight ring of the asshole, circling the rim before pushing inside, tasting the musky heat. Mark writhed, cursing under his breath as Aaron rimmed him deep, fucking the hole with his tongue in firm thrusts.

"Fuck, that's—oh god," Mark panted, cock twitching untouched.

Satisfied with the loosening, Aaron pulled back, saliva stringing from his lips to the glistening hole. He shifted up, gripping the base of Mark's cock and swallowing it down in one smooth motion. His throat relaxed, taking every inch until his nose pressed into the trimmed pubes. He bobbed steadily, lips sealed tight, tongue swirling along the underside.

Mark's hands flew to Aaron's hair, hips jerking as he face-fucked the masseuse. Aaron hummed around the shaft, vibrations drawing out guttural groans. He deepthroated relentlessly, gagging slightly for effect, saliva dripping down the balls. Mark's body tensed, balls drawing up.

"Gonna—fuck, I'm cumming!"

Hot spurts flooded Aaron's mouth, thick ropes of cum sliding down his throat. He swallowed every drop, milking the cock with his hand until Mark slumped, spent.

Aaron wiped his mouth, standing with a satisfied nod. "Worth every penny. Take your time getting dressed."

Mark dressed in a daze, fumbling for his wallet and pressing a crisp hundred into Aaron's hand—double the ask, no complaints. He muttered a thanks and bolted out, the bell chiming behind him.

Alone now, Aaron locked the door for a quick break, his own cock throbbing painfully against his pants. The taste of Mark lingered, fueling the ache. He texted Jake: Back room. Now.

Jake appeared moments later, eyebrow raised at Aaron's flushed state. "Client wear you out? Or rev you up?"

"Revved," Aaron growled, yanking Jake inside and shoving him against the wall. He ground his erection against Jake's thigh, kissing him hard, tongues battling. Jake's hands roamed, squeezing Aaron's ass.

"Bend over the table," Jake ordered, voice rough. Aaron complied, dropping his pants and kicking them aside, ass presented. Jake slicked his fingers with lube from the drawer, working two into Aaron's hole, scissoring to stretch him.

Aaron pushed back, moaning. "Hurry—fuck me already."

Jake freed his thick cock, lining up and slamming in balls-deep. The stretch burned sweet, Aaron's walls clenching around the intrusion. Jake gripped his hips, pounding with short, brutal thrusts that slapped skin on skin. Aaron stroked his own cock in time, the friction building fast.

"Take it," Jake grunted, angling to hit the prostate dead-on. Each peg sent sparks up Aaron's spine.

They rutted like animals, sweat-slick and ****. Aaron came first, spilling over the table with a cry, ass tightening to pull Jake over the edge. Jake buried deep, flooding him with cum that leaked out as he pulled free.

Panting, they cleaned up, Jake slapping Aaron's ass playfully. "Business as usual?"

Aaron laughed, pulling up his pants. "Always. Now let's see if Tyler's got the next slot covered." The parlor hummed on, secrets safe within its walls.