Date: Sun, 26 Aug 2012 16:25:52 -0700 (PDT) From: Joe the Hobo Subject: Country Club Prostate Masseur "Shit!" I yelled as I narrowly missed a bed of flowers as I pulled into the Country Club. Stealing quick glances at the road while I attempted to get my head through my uniform, I groaned as I thought of how poorly this summer was starting off. "You're late, Jeff!" My boss Andy's lips read as I pulled into the pool and spa parking lot. Thankful I had finally gotten my shirt on and buttoned before he saw me driving in, I put my car in park and jumped out as fast as possible. "Not off to a great start, are we?" He said with a handsome smirk. "Get your ass in there and get ready. You've got Mr. West coming in in fifteen minutes." "Good to see ya, Jeff." He smiled. "You've got two guys before lunch, so I hope that big cock of yours didn't sleep too much since last summer." He gave me a pat on the shoulder and went off to his office. I stood there shocked for a fraction of second before I laughed to myself. I'd forgotten how forward that guy is and how unorthodox this summer would be. My name is Jeff Wilson and I work at the country club in my upper-class suburb. This was my second summer working here. I'm twenty-five years old and am currently working on my masters in finance and business administration. I guess you could say that my resume lists me as a `summer massage therapist for an upper class country club', but I think that's a little deceiving. With no intention of beating around the bush, I give the dads at my country club a good shoulder rub and then fuck their brains out by appointment. Now I'm not going to sit here and try and tell you that this is a completely normal summer job at the Country Club, but here it's pretty casual. Working at the Country Club is absolutely fascinating. Everything that goes on here is known by absolutely everyone, but nothing is out in the open. Carole Timmons and Marissa Salvatore are fucking each others husbands and still manage to have their Wednesday brunch group every week with the four of them and talk about what colleges their kids are going to while trying to make their well-rehearsed smiles look as sincere as possible. The first thing I want to stress is that this isn't some cliché about a massage therapist freeing the sexual desires of a couple of rich, repressed gay guys in broken marriages. The guys I massage are very rich, very professional, and very straight. No matter what culture you're in, males will always do what makes them feel good. Different structures emerge in our society over a period of time. Just like the women in our country started putting down the binkies and the baby powder, and started picking up the business suits and brief cases, the men have started shifting their traditions, too. Though it wasn't advertised on hot pink and yellow paper around the place, it was a pretty accepted thing that while the woman sat by the pool drinking their frozen lemonades or doing yoga, their husbands could be relaxing on a massage table getting with their legs up and asses in the air getting their prostate milked. To put it simply, I was 10 inches up their husbands' assholes so that they didn't have to be. As for myself, as I said, I am twenty-five and have a 10 inch cock. Of course, I'd like to think there's more to me than that, but after a whole summer of working here doing what I do, I've been conditioned to believe that this is what people are most interested in. I am tall- about 6 feet 2 inches, and lean, but toned. I am also gay, which I believe makes my job a lot easier, but a fact I have to keep hidden from my clients. As stated before, these are very masculine, heterosexual men, and if they knew they were having their asses pumped by a gay dude it would be emasculating for them. (I know...) I have dark black hair and blue eyes. I am supposed to keep my body hair completely shaved, but every so often I skip shaving and let it grow out a day or two because I think it looks better that way. Some of the guys I massage like to joke that I am `Disney handsome'. It always makes me laugh when I picture Prince Eric lubing up some guy's ass and then ramming his rod up into him, but I guess I could see it. I had about 15 minutes to spare before my first session so I decided to tidy up the room a bit. Wow, were there some memories in here. My massage room was pretty simple. It was a round room with glass along the walls that you could see out of, but not in (as you can imagine, a feature, without fail, every one of my clients makes sure of before their first time). In the middle of the room is a standard massage table at about knee level height, but this one was special for one reason: There was a hole in the lower center of the table. My claim to fame here in hushed voices is my ability to give men hands-free orgasms. A combination of being blessed with a nice, big, lengthy dick and years of practice on my roommate (more on that later), I'd finally mastered the technique. My boss, Andy, had made it very clear that this job was to get the club members off, not me. I've learned that it takes constant attention to the prostate to make this happen, which means I needed to learn how to take my pleasure out of the situation. Nevertheless, these straight guys have got tight asses, and nothing gets me off more than seeing a straight guy squealing around not knowing what to do with his hands as I literally fuck the cum out of him. I've learned to pace myself and often will not cum during a session. Each session lasts 45 minutes and sometimes the clients are just satisfied with a prostate milking, which is just them lying on the table as I caress their prostate with my dick as their cum slowly drips down in a long, constant strand for the majority of the time. The hardest part for me is to try and not cum when their sphincter starts to spasm during their anal orgasms. Most of the clients prefer I not cum since they prefer I go bareback, as it feels better for them, but a few of them love it when I cum 10 inches up their ass. It's as professional as possible. There's no kissing, not blow jobs, or rimming. Just a massage on their prostate. Though I do enjoy rimming in my personal life, these guys just want to cut to the chase. There are all coming straight from the gym showers (I do love this job) and they're clean as a whistle. "Three minutes, Jeff." Andy said as he popped his head in. "And you've now got four more after him. I told the rest they would have to wait until tomorrow." "Jesus, Andy!" I said, half annoyed and half excited. "I know. I promise we will tone it down by the end of the week, but you should have expected this after you decided to take a break for school. And besides, I've got a car payment to make, so you just do what you do best." "It's nice to know you're willing to go the extra mile." I said, sarcastically. "You think I wouldn't be doing it myself if I got the dick you have, kid?" He said, laughing. "Quit the attitude and get ready to fuck some ass." He turned around and left. "Charming." I thought to myself. There was a buzz to my right meaning my appointment, Mr. West was here. I stood straight, took a deep breath, made sure my hair and uniform were tidy, and slid the door open for him. In walked Rick West, clad only in a towel, still wet and smelling fresh from his shower with a huge grin on his face. **************************************************************************** Part 2 coming soon! Please send any comments to jhtravus@yahoo.com Check out my other stories - A Very Convincing Suitemate (College) and Big Dick Club (Adult Friends)