Date: Mon, 24 Dec 2012 08:40:57 -0800 (PST) From: Anthony Palazzo Subject: vintage thrills; 27. Tribute to a Legend Tribute to a Legend MASSEUR; 5"8" (That's good, he's on the short side.) BODYBUILDER (OK, I like muscles.) 40 YRS (Terrific, older is better; don't want a twink.) HAIRY (A hairy bodybuilder? Great! This I gotta see!) HUNG (Always welcome.) UNCUT (Swell, been a long time since I played with any skin besides my own.) UPPER WEST SIDE; IN/OUT (All fine.) Unsuccessfully tried to reach this guy several times. And then one afternoon, just happened to be in the City and tried the number which I had been carrying around with me. Whattayaknow? He answers the phone. The small lobby of the building near Central Park is weird. Nice building but all kinds of graffiti scrawled on the walls. I scan the writing as I look for the bell. They seem to be notes of tribute to a famous screen legend from the past. Weird. But it is all explained within the first few minutes of meeting with my new masseur. It seems that a famous actor, now dead more than twenty years, used to live in this building. Odd though that the scribbling, almost certainly done by teenagers, would create a graffiti shrine to this talented troubled man who was probably dead before they were born. Oh well, I guess celluloid insures a perennial life of sorts, or at least lasting fame. As I undress I muse about the thought that, with any luck, I will ejaculate within the hour, and I will be coming in a spot not more than a couple of hundred feet at most from where one of the most famous sex symbols of the century no doubt came many times. Funny, strange thought. But now down to business. Mario greeted me wearing only gray gym shorts and moccasins. Now he has lost both and has set up a thick mat on the floor covered with toweling and invited me to spread out. Within minutes he is massaging my tired muscles skillfully and treating me at the same time to the attractive sight of his nude ripped bod. He is no hunk, but is a type that I find attractive. His features are not Hollywood perfect like the former building tenant, but there is a rough appeal to the masculine face with its aquiline nose and white even teeth. Mario has dark brown hair and a body that is very tan with well defined musculature. And oh yes, his cock is phenomenal. Long and snakelike; brown in color, thick at the base and tapering to a long puckered foreskin. It seems that Mario has been away which accounts for my difficulty in reaching him by phone in the recent past. He apparently winters in Fort Lauderdale and has just recently returned to New York. Odd coincidence is that I too have just returned to NY from the Ft. Lauderdale area a few days earlier. So we chat about Florida, with him knowing a great deal more about it than I. He is happy to fill me in on gay life down there, and I make mental notes for any possible future trips. Mario is reaching between my cooperatively spread legs to massage my inner thighs, ass cheeks and he is now touching just the tip of my cock which is peeking through more and more as he works me over. The teasing pleasure-pain ends as he asks me to turn over and I am able to look him over more frankly. He also looks me over, comments positively on my uncut cock (he doesn't get many; isn't it great to have skin?; I'm so glad I wasn't cut, etc.) and I agree with everything. Mario and I share the intimate information that although we regard ourselves as bisexual males who have actively explored gay sex for years neither of us has been fucked. This creates a strange bond of sorts. Mario has probably told me this so that I dispel any thoughts that I might have had about fucking him. He has a virgin asshole, he proclaims. He is surprised when I say "me too." This macho exchange leads to Mario setting up a verbal fantasy where he is my gym trainer and we have both been working out and are all hot and sweaty and then get into a mutual masturbation scene. I play along with the fantasy, which becomes more real as I start to jerk off his impressive tool. He manipulates me to erection, which isn't difficult since I have been half-hard for a while. Mario is now kneeling over my head with his long semi-erect cock dangling over my face as he massages my tits and gently rubs little circles on my nipples. I resist reaching up to take it into my mouth, which probably surprises him. I instead reach around and feel up his muscular ass, dipping my fingers into the crack and making large circles with my hands which end in tight squeezes of his perfect cheeks. He leans forward and starts to masturbate me faster and harder, talking macho dirty talk, still pretending that we are gym buddies lending each other a helping hand. I enjoy this and go along with it. I try to extend the ecstasy by slowing up Mario's hand but he is pumping fast and hard now and he soon has my load splashing on to my stomach and chest. I grunt with pleasure and pick up the pace on his prick, grabbing it firmly in a deathgrip so that he can't get away now. He allows me to jerk him to a come, and two sparse white spurts are now joining mine on my chest. I rub my hands on my sticky tits and dedicate the warm feeling to the absent film legend. I feel sexually sated. This should last me a while. Yes, it was a most enjoyable sex drenched hour spent appropriately at the residence of an American sex symbol.