Date: Sun, 29 Oct 2017 19:31:39 +0000 (UTC)
From: Bard
Subject: Answering a Straight Guy's "Tell Me How You'd Seduce Me" Story Challenge

First off, you won't like hearing this, but you are the definition of most
gay guy's wet dream: a hot straight guy that has no idea just how hot he
is. And how much we'd all plot and scheme for a chance to get to be
intimate with you.

That said, you're obviously straight, so not into guys at all, and the only
hope I'd have of getting to see, let alone touch you, when you were hard,
would be to either: get you drunk, then horny watching straight porn; or
seduce you with a bait massage, which is what this story is about.

Most guys are straight, well over 95%, but many have experimented a little,
or the thought of experimenting has a least crossed their minds.

It's not so much from any interest in another guy's body, though it's
natural for them to compare. It's that once aroused, from close physical
contact, especially in the dark, nature tends to wear down inhibitions.
The shock to most straight guys is, they can be aroused by another guys
touch. It's not a reflection on their manhood, it's just hardwired into the
male body. That might explain why they don't like to hug or show emotions
with other guys, from fear they may chub up.

But sometimes, when they are hyper excited, like when they win the Super
Bowl, instinct takes over and their first impulse is to hug and even kiss
their teammates and coaches. Some even lose it all together and break down
and cry. After all, they've just been through a war together.

So, here goes.

I'm a trainer at your gym, and have been scoping you out on the DL for a
while. Besides your body, you seem to have a great personality, and I've
wanted to get to know you, even if just over a beer, for a while now. But
apart from you asking me for some weight lifting advice, we have hardly
ever spoken.

Then one day my luck changed, and you asked me to spot for you. I stayed
professional and resisted the urge to perv.

You completed your reps and thanked me. After that, you seemed to seek me
out, and it became routine for me to spot for you. We still didn't speak
much, but I think that was just your style: you liked my company and help,
but you're not chatty by nature and we didn't need to know each other's
life stories.  This went on for about two months.

Then one day you came in with a pulled muscle. That's when I learned that
you run your own moving van business, and had lifted an air conditioner the
wrong way that day. You weren't sure you should lift weights for a while,
and you were just there to do some cardio. But it was clear to me, once you
got on the treadmill, that your back was bothering you, and that if you
thought you could run it off, it was wasn't going to work.

I don't have any medical training, but I am a licensed masseur, which you
knew from reading the certificate on my office wall one day. I told you you
should probably see a doctor to have your back checked out, but you asked
if I would take a look first.

Up to this point, I'm sure that you just wanted me to take look to see if
there was anything obviously wrong. I had seen you shirtless many times
before so didn't think twice about asking you to pull the back of your
shirt up in the middle of the lifting room for me to take a look. That all
changed for me the instant I touched your back.

I didn't see or feel anything obviously wrong, just some tension that I
thought would go away in a day or two, and that might benefit from some
local heat and massage. What I did notice, though, was my reaction to
touching you.

Any sense of professionalism had gone out the window. I would normally have
probed more, but I knew I was tenting up, and felt my face flushing, so I
pulled your shirt back down, stepped backed, and then turned so hopefully
you wouldn't notice my problem. When I glanced down, though, I saw that you
were reacting the same way, but from the look on your face, I don't think
you were aware of it yet.

I told you that your back looked ok, just knotted a little, but that if it
got worse or didn't improve in a day or so, you should see a doctor. You
then fessed up that you had no medical insurance. You also said that you
couldn't afford to take any time off work: you only had one part time
helper, and had moving jobs scheduled for the next day.

By luck, I had the next day off. So I told you I'd help you if you promised
to only watch us, and not do any lifting yourself. And if you were still
hurting afterwards, you'd see a doctor. I didn't want to be paid, but you
could buy me a beer afterwards if you thought that I had earned my keep.

That was too good of a deal for you. You couldn't accept that offer, it was
too generous. At that point, my senses had returned, and I knew that I had
no alterior motives, except maybe finally getting a chance to have a beer
with you. The deal to me was that, if you were still hurting after the next
day, the money you saved by not paying me could be used to pay for a
doctor's visit. I didn't want you to feel any other obligation to me, so I
tried to think of a way to make things seem fairer to you.

My sister was planning to move in a month, and I had offered to help
her. So I suggested you could return the favor by letting me use your truck
on one of your days off. You said you'd only agree if you could also help
with the move. A deal was struck, and we shook hands. You asked for my cell
number and address, and said you'd pick me up at 6:30 AM the next day.

The next morning, you arrived right on time, but without your helper: turns
out he wasn't the most reliable guy in the world. Luckily, though, you only
had three relatively light moves scheduled for that day.

We arrived at the first job, and despite your promise not to do any
lifting, you ended up carrying more than half the load. You did this at the
other two jobs as well, and by the end of the day, I could tell your back
was really hurting you.

Maybe your back would have gotten better had you rested it, but with all
the lifting that you did, it seemed like the pain was as bad as the day
before. And because you didn't think it was a fair test, you were now
trying to get out of your promise to see a doctor.

On the drive back, about two blocks from my apartment, you surprised me by
pulling into the parking lot of a small pub and said, "Time for a beer, you
earned it." I thought maybe we should do this another time, some night
after work, when the gym closed, and your back wasn't hurting. But then I
thought, beer is as good a pain killer as anything, so why not.

We sat at the bar and you ordered two beers; turns out we both drink
Heineken, so that was easy. We sat in silence for a few minutes, but when
the beers came, you thanked me again, for the millionth time, for helping,
and clicked our bottles together.

We ended up having another beer, talking only occasionally, but without any
awkward silence: we don't need to talk a lot to be comfortable around each
other.

It seemed like your back was doing better, but when we stood up to leave,
you winced in pain. It might have been a muscle spasm, or from sitting on
the bar stool with no back support. In either case, your pain was much
worse. I wasn't sure if you could drive.

When we got to your truck, you winced again stepping up to the cab. Your
truck is a manual shift, and you made an offhand comment that working the
clutch might be a problem. The second you said that, I came around to the
driver's side and asked if I could drive. You handed me the keys, and slid
over to the passenger's side, which might have caused you more pain than
had you gotten out and walked around.  I've had back pain myself, and I was
now feeling pretty bad for you.

You live about five miles from me, and I worried that you'd have trouble
driving that far, so I offered to drive you home and to take the subway
back. But you nixed that idea, saying you'd be fine in a few minutes. So I
drove to my apartment, and after searching a bit, found a parking spot big
enough for your truck. I then pleaded with you to come in and at least grab
an aspirin. You finally relented, and got out of the truck, but again I
noticed you grimace as your feet hit the ground.

You braved it up the front steps on your own, but by the time we hit the
first floor landing, you needed to take a break. I took this as a sign you
needed help, and had you lean on me the rest of the way up to the second
floor.

My apartment is just a studio, with a couch that makes up into a double
bed. I had you sit in the recliner while I got some water and aspirin. I
had some muscle relaxers left over from a prescription that I had when I
pulled a hamstring. But I don't like giving anyone my prescription
medications: it's not safe. So, I didn't offer you that option. Maybe I
should have.

Instead, I asked if you wanted to take a hot shower or bath to see if that
would help relax your back. You thought about it for a second, and then
said yes, you thought a hot shower might help.

I didn't ask for permission, I just knelt down and removed your sneakers
and socks, then helped ease you out of the chair. I watched how you walked
to the bathroom, and decided you'd be ok on your own.  So, after telling
you to call out if you needed anything, closed the bathroom door.

You stayed in the shower for about a half hour, which I took as a good
sign. When you came out, you were just wearing your boxers. I noticed right
away that you were smiling, and that you were walking much better.

I grabbed us a couple of beers, and asked if you were hungry. This time,
you just went with the flow and said yes, you were starving. I'm not much
of a cook, but quickly made some tacos that seemed to hit the spot.

Like most people, once you had eaten and started to relax in the
out-stretched recliner, you got sleepy, and soon fell asleep, which again I
took as a sign your back was feeling better. About an hour later you came
to, and apologized for snoozing. I told you no worries, and that I was just
glad that your back seemed better.

By now, it was about 9:00 PM, and I thought you'd need to be in bed soon if
you were going to get up early the next day. I was thinking you could take
a cab home and pick up your truck in the morning. I didn't like the idea of
you lifting again the next day, but I didn't know how to stop you. But then
you told me some good news, that you were off the next two days, and that
you thought, with the rest, your back would be as good as new. You even
promised that if it wasn't, you'd go see a doctor.

Apparently, the relief showed on my face, now that I knew you weren't
relying on me to medically diagnose your back problem. After two days, if
your back was still hurting, you'd see an expert, and in the meantime, you
wouldn't be risking any further injury. I was happy, and I guess it showed.

That's when my masseur-therapist side kicked in. I see massage more as a
pain reliever than an underlying problem solver. It can relax tensed
muscles and make a minor injury feel better. I wanted to see if I could
make your back feel even better, so I offered to give you a back massage.

Again, you surprised me by agreeing right away, seemingly no longer
concerned that you might be imposing.

I opened the couch up (I know, a massage therapist without his own table,
what's up with that?) in preparation, but in the middle of changing the
sheets, I started to panic. In my enthusiasm for seeing if I could make
your back feel any better, I had forgotten how I had reacted the last time
I touched you. I knew it was going to happen again. In desperation I
thought, maybe if I just target the knotted area, and not give a full back
massage, I could do your back the most good without revealing anything.

When the couch was ready, you pulled yourself out of the recliner, without
a noticeable grimace, and laid face down on the couch. I climbed on the
couch and knelt beside you.

I felt the knot and started to knead it as gently as I could. I then
scooped up some heating salve and rubbed it into the knot. Once you started
to feel the combined effects of the heat from the salve and my rubbing, you
let out a soft moan. It seemed like things were working. I was still
maintaining control of myself, and thought, I've made it. But then you
said, "That feels so good, could you please keep going and do all of me."

With that, I actually started trembling. You were facing away from me, but
you had to have felt the couch shaking. You didn't roll over and confront
me, though. Instead, you asked me if I had any more beer. I said sure, and
was thankful for the excuse to get off the couch. But when I had grabbed
the beers from the refrigerator and turned to start back, I lost all my
composure and stopped, stalling for time.

Except for my sneakers, I was still fully dressed, wearing the clothes I
had worked in all day, and realized that I probably smelled really
badly. On top of that, I was obviously fully tented. Both problems were
making me feel embarrassed as hell. The trembling only got worse, with
waves of high and low amplitude tremors washing over me. I liked you, but I
also LIKED you, and you were about to find that out the instant you took
one look at me. And on top of that, I smelled really bad. No doubt, I had
totally lost it, and couldn't move.

It might have been a coincidence, or you might have read my mind, but at
that instant you reached up and shut off the overhead lamp, leaving just
the glow from the light on the microwave's clock to light the room. Then,
easing the tension further, you said, "Sorry, the light was shining in my
eyes. I hope you can work in the dark."

That scored major points with me. You had let me know that, on some level,
you knew what my problem was, and you were fine with it.

I brought the beers in, under the cover of darkness, and asked, in a
trembling voice, "Can I take a shower before continuing your massage?" You
lightened things further by saying, "Yeah, that's a good idea; you
stink". I knew then, from your teasing, that I probably didn't smell as
badly as I feared.

I only took about 5 minutes to shower, which made me feel much less
self-conscious, and after weighing the options, decided to come out just
wearing my boxers: I'd be more comfortable and relaxed that way.

You were still lying face down, with your eyes closed, but you let me know
right away that you were still awake by saying, "That was quick."

I was fully erect, which would have been plain to see if you had looked,
from the tenting of my boxers. But you didn't look, and in the dark, with
your eyes closed, and your earlier signal that you didn't care if I was
chubbing up, I began to relax, and my trembling, which had lightened
considerably during the shower, faded to a stop.

I was on a mission now, actually two missions. The first was to make your
back feel as good as I possibly could. And the second was to make the rest
of you feel as good as I knew how - as good you just made me feel by
signaling that everything was all right - whether I was embarrassed in the
process or not.

So I climbed back up on the couch, and knelt next to you as before. I
paused first for a little liquid courage, grabbing my beer and chugging
most of it. You must have heard me gulping, because you sat up to suck your
beer down as well, never looking towards me, and then laid face down again,
facing away from me, and with your eyes closed. We were both ready.

I first started with your head, massaging your scalp, then your neck. Then
I moved to your shoulders, your arms, and then your hands.

I then jumped down to your feet, starting with your soles, then your toes,
then your ankles. Next, I kneaded your calves and then moved up to the back
of your knees, and a little higher, up to your lower thighs.

I then returned to your back, massaging just below your shoulder
blades. You started to softly moan now, which gave me some much-needed
encouragement. I continued lower down your back until I neared your pulled
muscles, just above your waist, and gently worked them until I couldn't
feel any more tightness.  For most of the massage so far, I had alternated
my hand and finger pressure from firm then to light, but now I used just
light, and revisited all the areas I had previously massaged. That left
just your upper thighs and buttocks.

Normally, when I massage someone, I have them strip down, and cover their
midsection with a towel.  You were still wearing your boxers, and I wasn't
sure what to do next. I was thinking of massaging you through you boxers,
but for what I had planned, they would be coming off soon anyway. So I
asked you to raise your butt a little. You did, and I pulled your boxers
off. Then I started massaging your thighs and butt, keeping well clear of
your crack. While I was massaging your inner thighs, though, the inevitable
happened, and I brushed your scrotum. But apart from each of us emitting a
small gasp with the contact, we each pretended not to notice..

Now, I was running out of areas on your back to massage, and stalling
again, which I knew from recent experience could quickly lead to a full-on
panic attack. But you amazed me again. You just softly said, "Fuck it", and
rolled over. The sight that greeted me was stunning, and caused me to gasp,
loudly this time.


You were fully erect, maybe 8", and the most beautiful sight I've ever
seen. Your cock was twitching, and you were leaking precum by the
gallon. Whether from shyness or shame, you had covered your eyes with your
forearms, but you did nothing else to cover yourself up, so I could see you
in all your glory.

Again, I started with your head, massaging your face and temples - anyplace
that I could reach around your arms covering your eyes - and then started
on your neck. Next, I moved to your arms and hands, then I started on your
chest, taking time to concentrate on your pecs and abdomen, before stopping
at your waist.

I jumped over your groin and down to massage your feet, and then moved up
your legs until about half way up your thigh. By now, you had moved your
arms to your sides, and you had a slight smile on your face.

As before, when I was massaging your back, I had been switching from light
to firm pressure, but now I switched to only light pressure.

I hadn't touched your groin area yet, but anywhere else that I touched
caused your cock to twitch. My sense was that you were pretty wound up by
now, so I decided to end the suspense for you and to just go for it.

I put my right index finger in the middle of your forehead, and then slowly
started moving downward, tracing your centerline. I think my finger tip
crossed your nose and chin before you realized where I was headed.

I traced your neck and Adam's apple, then took a detour when I got to your
chest to test the firmness of your nipples. Then I returned to your center
and resumed tracing downward again, until I got to your belly button. I let
my finger rest in the hollow for a moment, and then started downward again.
When my finger reached your waist, marked by the impression left by the
elastic waistband of your boxers, I took another detour and traced your
waistline, before moving my finger back to your center.

You're breathing was ragged at this point, and your cock seemed to pulse
with every heartbeat. I wasn't trying to edge you or to make you nervous. I
was trying to give you every opportunity to bail, now that it was clear
where I was going. But you didn't. The only signs of distress were sudden
spasms of your belly as my finger got closer to its goal.

I moved my finger downward again, until it just reached the top edge of
your pubic hair. Your cock was actually less than an inch above my finger
now, above your belly, pointed to your head. But I kept my finger low so it
wouldn't make contact yet. I kept going lower and lower, with the gap
between my finger and your cock narrowing, until the clearance was nearly
zero, and then waited for the next big twitch of your cock to create
contact.

With that contact, your cock pulsed the strongest that it had yet, and I
worried that you might cum well before I wanted you to. I thought that
using too light a pressure at this point could create a problem, so I
pressed my finger down a little more firmly and continued exploring
southward.

I found the base of your cock, then slowly traced along the underside seam,
now heading northward, towards your head. I traced the entire length of the
seam until I reached the rim of your cockhead. Then, I used my finger to
collect precum oozing from your slit, and smeared it over your cockhead and
shaft, before pulling my finger away.

I cupped the fingers of my right hand, and hovered my hand over your
cock. Then I slowly closed the gap until I was lightly holding your cock in
my hand. I could feel the heat radiating from your cock, and your
heartbeat.

With my left hand I fondled your balls, and with my right hand I started to
masturbate you.  I wasn't sure how far you'd let me to go. Just a hand job
could test the extreme limits of your tolerance, and I'd stop with that if
you wanted me to. But I knew I could do better if you'd let me. So I
removed my hands and tested the waters by lowering my head to lick the tip
of your cock.

Your eyes had been closed the entire time, and you probably didn't expect
me to do anything like this. On contact with my tongue, your eyes shot wide
open, you raised your head, and your contented smile turned to - I don't
know what. I was about to make a major retreat when, just as quickly as you
reacted to my tongue, you closed your eyes, settled your head back down,
and an even bigger smile appeared on your face. I took that as permission
to go ahead.

I started licking your head, your shaft, and your balls, trying to get them
as lubed as possible. I think just doing that almost caused you to lose it
a couple of times. Then once I had you fully lathered up, I started to take
you into my mouth. Again, just entering past my lips almost brought you
over the edge, but I paused to give us both time to adjust to the new
feeling.

Gradually, I took more and more of you in until finally I felt your pubes
hit my chin, then waited for a bit for you to calm down. Then I started
bobbing up and down, moving your cockhead from my lips to the back of my
throat, slowly at first, then faster as I felt you begin to swell.

Up until now, you'd been pretty passive, but as you approached orgasm, you
placed your hand on the back of my head, and applied light pressure to
control the depth and speed of my bobbing. Then, with a last, frantic
upward thrust of your hips and a groan, I felt your cockhead swell further,
followed by six powerful blasts of cum.

I tried to swallow as much as I could, but either you hadn't cum in a
while, or you were very excited, because I couldn't keep up with half of
the fluid volume, and I ended up with cum pouring from the corners of my
mouth. I slowly pulled off your cock, then licked the head and shaft as
clean as I could.  At this point, I noticed that my boxers were wet, and
that somewhere along the way, maybe with your first blast, I had cum
myself.

We both rested in the afterglow a while before I finally got up to get a
wet towel to clean you better. Then, I grabbed your boxers off the floor,
and put them on you. Only then did you open your eyes and look at me.

I was afraid of what I might see in them - straight guys are known to have
a panic attack after an experience like this - but all I saw was happiness,
maybe mixed with a little gratitude. But I think I may have seen something
else, too, a look that I could only hope for. You'll have to tell me
someday what you wanted me to see. I guess when you're as secure in your
sexuality as you are, a little experimenting can do no harm.

If I was having any doubts you settled them quickly by saying, "Thanks, I
needed that." And then, for good measure, you added, "My back feels
great. Maybe you should open a clinic." If you weren't straight, I'd have
kissed you hard on the lips for that one.

It was getting late, about 10:30 PM, so I asked if you wanted to stay the
night. "It isn't like you have to worry about me putting any moves on
you. I've already given you my best shot." You said, "Sure, that sounds
great. But I warn you, I snore." I knew that from when you slept earlier,
but didn't say anything. It was good to be able to give you a pass for a
change.

I tried to sleep in the recliner, but you got up and dragged me onto the
couch with you: I guess your back really was feeling better. I shifted over
to the edge to give you room, but you dragged me back to the middle. Then
you put your arm around me so that I couldn't escape again. I'm sure we
shifted positions in the night, but that's how we awoke in the morning.

A couple of weeks later, one night after the gym had closed, we grabbed a
beer together in a pub nearby.  Nothing seemed to have changed between us,
except there was a closeness that wasn't there before. I knew I risked
losing your friendship by asking, but had to know why you'd let me touch
you so intimately.

You thought about it for a minute, sighed, and then said, "I always knew
you liked me: I caught you looking at me a thousand times. But I never
thought you were a perv, someone that would stalk me in the shower or
locker room.

"When I injured my back, and you offered to help, the way that you offered
showed me that you were doing it for all the right reasons. You never tried
to take advantage of the situation, you were only concerned with my
well-being. Even though your lusting body sometimes conspired against you,
your good nature won out.

"That night, when I felt the couch shake from your trembling, I guessed the
reason why. I couldn't bear to see you suffer, especially because of me,
and I had to stop your anguish quickly: I'd start crying if I didn't.  How
gay is that?

"Yeah, I'm straight, I don't lust after guy's bodies, but I like and admire
you a lot, more than I can tell you with only one beer in me. I know I'll
never feel this way about another guy, but you can have me anytime you
want. You'll be my one gay exception. I don't know if I'll ever be able to
return the favor of how good you can make me feel, but I may surprise you
someday."

Then you paused for a second, shook your head back and forth a few times I
guess out of amazement, and sheepishly grinned, before adding, "I think
I've surprised you, and myself, a couple of times already."

Then you got up, and in front of everyone in the bar, pulled me from my
chair and gave me a hug while rubbing my back, which surprised the hell out
of me. And then I realized that your prediction had already come true.