Sex Histories	Sex Histories Archive

Rhode Island-- You will notice that this letter is unsigned and that my name appears only on the envelope (which I request that you discard immediately). The reason for this is that I have suddenly become paranoid. As a masseur (I will start to give massage professionally in May), fooling around with my clients could be construed as prostitution.

Mind you, I don't believe that I am engaging in prostitution. I just fool around with an occasional client. I don't molest my clients. I admit that when I get an attractive man on my table I may massage a little lower on the abdomen than I should, or a little higher on the thighs than I should. But I don't touch their genitals unless they request it and unless they appeal to me sexually. Also, I don't accept any extra money for any sex I may have with a client.

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It turns out that the opportunities for fooling around in the massage profession are legion. I would say that most of the men who come to me enjoy the homo-eroticism of it in one way or another. Some just like being touched by a man, while others want action.

When a man (or woman) answers my ad, he has to answer some questions before I will set up an appointment. I ask these questions because I feel that I need to know something about the people I let into my home. He also has to give me his full name and a telephone number at which I can reach him. This screens out the kooks and dangerous ones.

Last Saturday morning a guy named Steve called me up and, after checking him out, I set up a one o'clock appointment for him. His answers to my questions were not overly exciting. He said he was 35 (good), worked in the lumber business (maybe good, maybe not), did not engage in any athletic activities (not good), but did do a lot of lifting on the job (good).

I was standing at the window when he drove up in his dark green flat-bed truck. He was wearing a navy blue work uniform with a navy blue cap. Having come from an upper middle class family, I found the prospect of massaging this working man fascinating.

Steve seemed to be a nice enough guy. He didn't say much but there was no hint of uptightness. He had a moderately thick local accent. He was medium height (about 5 feet 9 inches) and looked stocky. His face was broad and reddish, as was his thick neck, and his hands were calloused and grey from working.

I led him into the massage room and told him to undress and lie down under the sheet on the massage table and to call me when he was ready. At that point, I still couldn't tell what kind of body he had.

When I entered the room I was pleasantly surprised. He was lying with the sheet half-way up his chest and all that stockiness, it turned out, was thick, graceful muscle-- with the one exception of a moderate beer belly.

I was disappointed, however, when I looked at the sheet over his groin and judged that he had kept his underpants on. Nonetheless, the lump in the sheet looked sizable.

Each person responds differently to a massage, and Steve responded in the way I like best: he became very relaxed and "lost" to the experience. On the couple of occasions when I spoke to him, he had to rouse himself to respond.

When I got to his belly I discovered that he had not kept his underpants on after all. Still, there was no evidence of a hard on. However, when I got to his right leg, the lump in the sheet definitely grew. I decided to be bold and massaged his inner thighs close to his groin, brushing his balls a bit with my fingers. But his hard on went down by the time I finished both of his legs.

When I did his backside I included his butt. (I used to ask my clients if they wanted their buttocks done but now I just go ahead and do them.) He was lying on his dick so I couldn't tell if it was hard.

When the massage was over (despite all my shenanigans I do give a good massage), he was very relaxed. I wiped the oil off his backside. When he turned over, much to my delight he let the sheet fall partly off his body, so that his dick (flaccid, unfortunately) and balls were mostly exposed. I wiped the oil off one side of his front and then moved the sheet to wipe the other side. In moving the sheet, I inadvertently allowed a corner of it to cover his genitals. In a quick motion (meant not to be noticed), he flicked the sheet off so he was completely exposed.

That's when I knew he wanted some action.

I asked him if the massage lived up to his expectations and he said it was good. Then I asked if I had left anything out and he said, "I thought maybe you could do..." and motioned toward his dick. I said yes and oiled it up.

His genitals were beautiful. His cock swelled to 7-1/2 or 8 inches and, just like his body, was thick (very) and graceful. It was thicker at the middle of the shaft than at the base of head. He was cut but the doctor had mercifully left him with a lot of skin.

I told him that he had a big cock and he said, "Oh, yeah?" I honestly don't think he knew. After I jerked him for a bit he asked if I would suck it and I said yes.

Unfortunately, he came quickly, even before I could take a hit of poppers.

While I was waiting for him to dress, I was mildly fearful that he might get rough now that he had dropped his load. After all, this was a real blue-collar working man, not a gay imitation. But when he came out he was his same, placid self.

I asked him not to spread the word around that I had blown him and he said he had no one to tell.

Then I said that I enjoyed sucking cock and that he could come back anytime for a free blow job.

He told me that he got out of work around 9:00 and was that a good time?

I said yes.

He called the next day. He sounded tense on the phone and, again, I was a bit apprehensive; but when he walked in he was grinning and I knew everything would be all right.

It turns out that he is married to a woman he loves but who is semi-frigid (sex once a month). He has no animosity toward gays. In fact he is friendly and talkative and treats me with warmth and respect.

I sucked his cock and sucked his balls, which he loved. For a long time he just lay on the floor and let me rub my hands all over him. He seems to need a lot of human contact. I expect to see a lot of him.

There is one small thing wrong with him: he has a bit of trouble getting a hard on. But I think I will always be able to get at least one good hard on (and load) out of him each time I see him.

Basket, balls

One of my massages degenerated into sex even before it was over. The client was a stocky 29-year-old man whom I judged to be gay and who showed a large basket in his pants. The basket looked so good that I decided to throw caution to the winds.

Overall, this guy was decent looking, though not as attractive as my working man. When I got to his left thigh I massaged all the way up to his crotch, boldly brushing the back of my hand firmly against his balls. By the way, his balls were round and absolutely huge, probably the biggest I have seen.

I commented while I was doing this that it was important to massage the upper thigh muscles, and he said it was fine with him.

His cock hung to the right and when I got to his right thigh the back of my hand brushed the tip of his cock as well as his balls, at which point he started getting a hard on.

He apologized for the hard on and I told him it was a normal reaction. Then I touched the glans of his dick and told him that I could "take care of it" for him if he liked. He said that I could do whatever I wanted.

I didn't even wait. I finished that leg and then oiled his genitals and started jerking his cock. Then I sucked it.

He ended up sucking me too.

It was an exciting experience, although I am not sure he appealed to me enough for me to see him again.

I have had a lot of attractive men come for massages with whom I did not fool around, but who were a turn-on anyway. The second massage I ever gave was to a young college student. He was a working-class type who spoke in short, elliptical sentences with a heavy local accent. His behavior was reserved and macho. His body was thickly muscled, unusually firm, and well defined-- in short, he was a total hunk.

He sprang a hard on as soon as I started massaging his belly and sprang another one when I did his legs, and also when I took the oil off his body. I would say that he had a hard on most of the time. He obviously wanted some action but at that early stage I was still too timid to initiate anything. Also, acting like Sylvester Stallone as he did, I thought it too dangerous to just grab his dick. Unfortunately, he was too macho to ask for what he wanted. Too bad.

I also had a local racket-sports champion come for a massage. He got a hard on when I massaged his butt (he pushed it down between his legs so it was visible). When the massage was over, he didn't wait for me to leave the room; he just jumped up and started dressing right in front of me, with his semi-hard on hanging down. I was certain that I would see him again, but I haven't.

I had a tall, lanky "straight" guy show up for a massage. He was more modest about his body than most; when I told him to undress, he said "everything?" But when I explained that he should remove his underpants if he wanted his buttocks done, he readily took them off.

As soon as the massage was over, he asked to make a local call. I brought him the phone and he crouched on the floor, naked, while he made his call. Modestly, he kept his legs tightly together but to no avail, since his large balls and large semi-hard cock hung down between his thighs, quite visible.

I have given massages to two young, attractive, obviously gay men who did not get hard ons at all. I think that in both cases they were getting so much sex in their regular lives they didn't need to fool around with me.

However, one gay man who was quite fat and unattractive practically raped me. I didn't enjoy that at all.

Author Profile:  Boyd McDonald

Born in 1925 in South Dakota, Boyd McDonald entered Harvard as a high-school dropout after serving in the army in World War II. Jobs with Time, IBM, and several Wall Street firms preceded Boyd's career as a chronicler of gay sex. He was the founder and editor of Straight to Hell (alternatively the Manhattan Review of Cocksucking), and later published a number of anthologies of true sex histories. Boyd died in September 1993, two months after completing his final book, Scum.