Erotic Massage NYC

I turned to erotic massage as a young man living in NYC in the 1980s. I had enjoyed the Baths every week and backroom bars, where for the price of a beer I could get my cock sucked once or twice an evening. AIDS pulled the brakes on all that, so I discovered erotic massage. No sucking, getting sucked but lots of amazing touching. I found an ad for this delicious young Brazilian man/boy in his mid 20s, beefy and moderately hairy. He would greet me at his door in a white tank top and grey sweats. He would almost silently undress me slowly, keeping just an exciting few inches distance so our bodies never touched. There was no offer of a towel or drape to hide my nakedness. Lying on my back to begin I would be semi-aroused, my meaty penis knowing it would be treated to an hour of touching and worship. Taking his place behind my head, he would peel-off his tank top, exposing his broad, wiry-haired chest with dark brown nipples. The sound of the oil lubricating his big, soft hands…then that first touch as they gently landed on my own hard nipples, signaled that his breath, just an inch or so from my skin would soothe my chest all the way to my belly. His breath was warm and moist and almost in an instant my cock was hard, throbbing, longing for being pleasured.

His touch is something my body will never forget. Without ever licking or sucking, those hands and that delicious breath that erotically teased every inch of my nakedness brought me to the edge. He would then move from behind my head to my feet. I would focus on his beautiful face, and broad naked chest. He would slip his thumbs under the elastic waistband at his hips and slide them down, letting them fall to his bare feet. My healing God was now naked, his uncut fat cock semi hard and fully in charge. He would continue stroking and rubbing my nakedness, again his breath following just inches from my flesh, warming and soothing every one of his strokes. After nearly our entire hour of oil and touch and breath together, he would climb onto the table and kneel over me, straddling my hips. His hovering breaths landed his delicious mouth on my neck, gently nuzzling on each side, adding little kisses and tiny licks. My hard cock was aching for release. His fat beauty was engorged, and were it not for the epidemic raging in our world, I would have been suckling its hardness, devouring his load. He would lower himself onto me, swollen cock and balls onto swollen cock and balls. His mouth kissing, sucking my neck and ears while I was devouring him the same way. We moaned and groaned as he would work his uncut rock hard beauty into my aching bone. He could drive deeply with his foreskinned beauty, bringing me to explode, which triggered off his own screaming orgasm. I would visit him twice a month for nearly a year. After about months, he returned to Brazil. To this day, he is still one of my most often used masturbation remembrance. And I still scream out my pleasure when I shoot my load. – OldManMike