As I wrote in the last entry of this column I spent some time working in Texas where everything is bigger, especially the closets. I massaged seventeen closeted men in a week’s time. While many of them were typical business types with no real charisma or charm other than the ability to make money, others were quite charming and attractive. I resisted advances all week for a night out or a sexual encounter with many of the seventeen. Many times that week I quietly considered myself a good person for not succumbing to the charms of a married man. I was a beacon of restraint and dignity in the massage community. I had morals.
I was a fool.
On the final day of my first trip to Houston I had a wildly successful pediatrician named Jackson as a midday client. He was forty-ish and built like a rugby player with burnt sienna skin, mildly freckled cheeks, green eyes and short salt-and-pepper hair that would’ve been wavy had he given it the chance to grow longer than an inch. He walked into my hotel room dressed in beige linen pants with a matching sportscoat, white shirt and brown saddle shoes. He introduced himself and gave me a firm handshake while maintaining constant eye contact — an attractive quality. And I melted.
Within a few minutes he was on my table enjoying a very thorough massage.
“You have strong hands. Can we extend the massage to ninety minutes?” he asked.
“Sure”, I replied too quickly as I noticed the ring on his finger. “So, you’re married?” I asked uncomfortably.
“I am. And I have three kids but, do you really want to talk about my wife and kids?”
I realized I was ruining the illusion so I continued the downward spiral.
“So, what do you do for work?”
“I’m a pediatrician.”
This couldn’t get any worse. He was overwhelmingly handsome and he saved the lives of children.
“We don’t have to talk about me. I’m sure your life is far more exciting than mine is. Where were you before you came to Houston?” This was a smart transition on his part.
“I was in Chicago. I live there. And now I’m here.” My attraction to this man made me so uncomfortable that my conversation skills had been reduced to that of a five-year-old.
“Well, I’m glad you are. ”
While I couldn’t immerse myself in banter with this beautiful man that made me shrink intellectually, I gave him one hell of a massage. I started at his neck then worked my way down his strong back with deep rubs and the relentless twist of my fists. I worked his rugby ass for a good twenty minutes then massaged and stretched his muscular legs before finishing with a foot massage that worked every pressure point I knew of. By the time he turned over we were both hard and ready to attack each other and we did.
“I knew you were in there somewhere. ” He said looking at my cock then grabbing me and pulling me to him. He gave me one of the most memorable first kisses I’ve had. It was deep, passionate and focused. We then moved to the bed and 69-ed (a position I usually hate) for a good twenty minutes. We devoured each other so long and hard that I’m surprised there was anything left to prove we were ever there to begin with. We jacked off, cumming together.
Afterwards, I rolled over unable to speak from the lockjaw I’d developed giving him the blowjob of my life.
“Wow. You’re pretty amazing.” He said, breathlessly.
I just looked over and saw the ring.