There
are certain attractions that I look for when I book my annual summer holiday.
Among
many places where I have stayed, this particular resort is my favourite.
Why?
The quality of the rooms and inclusions. The on-site restaurant. The toys, such
as the catamarans, surf skis, paddle boards and jet skis. And the two swimming
pools – the outdoor one and the smaller, heated indoor one. The gym. The spa.
The sauna. The proximity to surfing beaches. And all of the tanned and toned summer
bodies who hang out here! And, as a massage therapist, I value observing
excellent muscle tone. On excellent bodies.
There
are certain times of the day when I really enjoy hanging out near either of the
pools, although the larger, outdoor pool is far more popular.
After
breakfast, it's the time when the people with the most energy, and those who
are not `hung over' from activities such as night-time drinking or partying,
come out to play. As well as the smaller kids, with a family `guardian'
supervising.
Then,
around lunchtime, whole families come down from their apartments, for a swim
while lunch is being prepared; maybe the dad is utilising the BBQ while the mum
is arranging the salads on an umbrella-shaded table. And it also gives me the
chance to see who `is connected' to whom and to note if any guys seem to be on
`big-brother duty' with younger siblings.
And,
the time after dinner is usually when the teenagers like to monopolise the outdoor
pool, fool around with one another, oblivious to the noise that they are
creating, but still early enough so that nobody really complains. Sometimes
there is also a bit of hanky-panky in the pool in places where the submarine
lighting is dimmest.
I
observe a lot of the `activity' from my favourite apartment's balcony, two
floors directly above the outdoor pool. I also get to note which guys are
`chick magnets' and which ones favour pairing off with a girl, and which ones seem
to muck around exclusively with mates and just how physical they get with one
another.
When
I'm down at pool level, I try to be as nonchalant and discrete as possible in
studying them, like when I `sunbake' on the partially-reclined sun lounge with
dark glasses masking my eyes. Or, in reading a book (sometimes it's the daily
newspaper) with occasional glances over the top to take in the nearby activity.
Occasionally,
in search of something to eat or drink, I get up and walk past groups of people,
and say `good day' to various and selected ones, especially the parents with handsome
offspring round around them, who then, usually introduce both themselves and
their teenage sons and daughters. So, when I return, I settle back into my
previous position, with refreshments, better-informed about who's who.
Just
doing normal and friendly guest stuff!
One
group that caught my attention two days ago was a handsome, tousle-haired
20-ish guy. And his younger sibling who sported similar physical features, but whom
I would describe more as `cute' than handsome. Both were sitting with their
mother. I guessed.
Yesterday,
after lunch, in my usual amicable custom, I strolled by, said `hello',
introduced myself and got to know them as Margaret, Michael and Victor.
After
observing Michael, his body, and his touchy-feely relationship with his younger
brother in the pool, I did have some thoughts, and plans, of getting to know him
better. Until today. The happy trio has been joined by a young lady who, by
their interaction, must be Michael's girlfriend.
So
much for my fantasy!
I
decide to ease my disappointment by having a spa and spending some time in the
sauna.
When
I return from my room, still attired in my `Speedos', towel over my shoulder, and
having collected the #2 sauna key from reception, Margaret and her company have
gone.
The
large circular spa, indoor, just off the pool deck, is open to all-comers, on
the condition that any children are supervised. There is also a shower.
Beyond
that, there are two locked doors. One leads to the smallish, `intimate' sauna
and the other to the well-equipped gymnasium. Both require a key from reception
and are restricted to people aged 18 and older.
The
spa is already bubbling, and occupied by three people, basically with their
backs to me. Two are arm-over-shoulder close together, and the other is at
about a metre away.
I
place my towel with the others on the wooden bench and ease myself into the
steaming, aromatic bubbles.
"Hi,
Rob," Michael greets me as I head for the largest gap around the edge,
virtually opposite him and his girlfriend.
"Hi
Michael, and Nicole, and Victor," I reply. "Great minds think alike, eh? I love
this spa when the water's hot."
Michael
says, "Hey, Rob, seeing that we're here for a week, why don't you call me
`Mick'?"
Nicole
adds, "And call me `Nic'."
Victor
says, "And I prefer `Vic'."
"That's
very funny," I tell them smiling, and then pointing to each in turn, I say,
"Mick and Nic and Vic. Pure poetry!"
However,
in my mind, I would really think of them by their full names.
At
this closeness, and from their expressions and voices, I'm tempted to hazard a
guess at their respective ages. Michael, a touch younger than me, may be 20. Nicole,
about 17. Victor is harder. 15? 14? 16?
We
spend a lot of time making small-talk about where we are from, what we do, what
we like to eat, what movies we have seen or intend to see while we're in town,
etc.
All
the while, I'm studying Michael's features.
His
light brown, tousled hair, now wet, is flat on his head and appears darker. I'm
tempted to throw into our `conversation' that people shouldn't submerge their
heads in a spa because of the higher risk of ear infections, but words don't
come out. I wouldn't want to offend him, in case there is still a chance of us
becoming friends.
He
has `normal' eyebrows over sparkling hazel eyes and now-wet, clumping long
eyelashes. His straight nose and relatively small lips sit perfectly above his
rounded chin. His grin is impish. I can see why Nicole is attracted to him!
Hell, I'm finding myself attracted to him!
I
look from big brother to little brother. They are very similar, including
height and upper-body muscles, except that one is older and the other has discernibly
younger features. One has some chin stubble and the other doesn't. Both have
the same attractive eyes and playful grins. And, from my previous observation
of both in their Speedos, one has slightly larger and more rounded `assets'
than the other, which is to be expected!
As
the conversation begins to flag, I say, "Hey, it's been good to chat with you
guys, but I need to hit the sauna before this spa water has my skin looking
like a prune!"
I
clamber out and retrieve my towel and key.
As
I put the key into the lock of the solid-timber door to the sauna, I hear
Michael say to his brother, "Hey, mate, Nic and I are going to head straight down
to the beach for no more about an hour. Can we get you to look after our stuff
and take it all back to the room?"
"Sure,
no prob!" I hear him reply.
I
close the door firmly behind me and it clicks, `locked'. There is another door into
the actual `hot' room which is obscured from view while ever the main door is
open.
This
`ante-room', well-lit, is about one metre wide and two long, with a bench and
hooks for clothes that you don't want wear inside, or things that you don't
want to roast, like your phone.
The
sauna itself is only about two metres by two. The door to it has a little
square window and, peering in, there is a reddish, very dim light. I can only
just make out that it is empty.
I
pull the door open and feel the gush of heat on my body, but mostly on my face
and deeper, into my nostrils and lungs, as I inhale.
I
close the door, spread a ladle-full of water across the hot stones and take the
higher of the two rows of seats as the resultant heat and steam spread. I sit
on, then open, my wrapped-around towel, exposing my naked body to the dim light
and the heat.
If
there were four adults in here, it would feel crowded. That is probably why
there are only two keys. When I was given #2, I had anticipated that it might
already be `occupied'. But, not so! Thankfully.
My
eyes are closed, and I have relaxed into the heat. My body is covered in beads
of perspiration, many of which I feel tickling my body as they succumb to
gravity.
I
hear the `outer' door open, then click closed, and I automatically `cover up'
with the two flaps of my towel.
Soon,
the lit-from-behind silhouette of a head appears, pressed against the little
window, apparently scanning for occupants.
As
the door opens and then closes, the light from the ante-room highlights a
familiar shape.
"Is
that you, Mick?" I ask. "I thought that you were going to the beach."
He
puts one foot on the lower seat, steps up, and then settles next to me.
"It's
me, Vic, actually," he replies.
"Vic,
how did you get in here?" I put to him.
"With
the key," he replies, "Number #1".
I
comment, "Reception only issues a key to people who are 18 or over. And I know
that they only give out two at a time. So, now, I have one, and you must have
the other one."
"Correct!"
he says.
"So,
how old are you?"
"I
must be eighteen, then, mustn't I?" he answers, cheekily.
"You
look more like 14!" I reply sceptically. Then I hit him with, "So what year
were you born?"
I
can tell from his hesitation, that he is doing a calculation.
"If
you are really 18," I say, "then you would know what year you were born without
having to work it out."
"I
do have a licence, you know," he replies.
I
can't tell whether he's miffed or being a smart-alec.
"Did
you drive here or come in by coach?" I put to him.
"By
car," he answers.
"What
car?" I question.
"White
Hyundai Kona."
There's
only one white Kona in the underground car park," I inform him, "and I've
parked next to it. It has `L' plates on it. Is it yours?"
"Yes."
"So,"
I deduce, "you are actually 16!"
"Well,
you can't get a Learner's Licence until you are sixteen in this state," he
replies.
"So,
how did you manage to get the key for the sauna?" I put to him.
Vic
grins, "My brother got it from reception. It was with his things that he asked
me to take back to our room. He won't be needing it for at least an hour."
"So,
why are you in here?" I ask.
"To
have a sauna, obviously."
"What?
On your own?"
"Yes."
I
say, "It's funny that just before I came in here, I heard you agree to take
your brother's things back to your room. Did you follow me?
"You
came in first, so I must have followed you," he replies cautiously.
"Why?"
I ask.
He
answers in a tone which is semi-accusing, but with a large dose of flirtation. "Because
I've seen you checking me out."
"When
did I do that?" I ask, defensively.
"Ever
since mum, Mick and I arrived," he says.
Should
I tell him that I was more focussed on his older brother?
"So,
what if I was looking?" I ask. "That doesn't explain why you followed me in
here."
He
doesn't answer me in words. Instead, he undoes his towel and displays a
fully-erect penis. Not long, but thick, flawless and tight. Perfect for an adolescent!
"Isn't
this what you really wanted to see?" he asks, and slides his backside closer to
me until our thighs are touching.
Without
saying anything, I look into his grinning eyes, close to my face, and then
study his body, as much as the dim light permits. However, my eyes have
sufficiently adjusted to the light, to make it easier.
His
ceiling-pointing erection is perfectly-formed and rigidly-straight. Perhaps
just a `smaller' version of what I had envisaged his older brother's to be, Handsome
for a younger brother!
At
its base, he has a tuft of dark brown, curly, adolescent pubic hair, and his
round, spreading balls appear hairless, like the rest of his body.
"You
can feel it, if you want," he says cheekily, grinning directly into my eyes.
"Why
would I want to do that?" I ask him, and swallow nervously.
"Because
you have a stiffy too," he replies. "And because I think that you want to!"
I
know that he's right, but I look down to confirm what he's saying and how he could
tell!
As
if the tent in my towel wasn't sufficient evidence, the half of it nearer to
Vic has slipped down, and my cock is actually visible, holding up the other
half, like a tent pole.
Instead
of covering up, I remove the towel flaps completely. "Happy now?" I ask him.
"I'll bet that you just actually wanted to see mine. "Didn't you?"
"Nice!"
he grins, and boldly takes hold of it. "Yours is bigger than Mick's!" He
encourages, "You can feel mine. Go on! It's OK."
Can
I resist? "You are sixteen, aren't you?" I put to him. "I don't need any legal
hassles!"
"You
already worked that out yourself, didn't you?" he asks. "Go ahead. Feel it."
Although
more at ease with willing, naked bodies on my massage table, I tentatively
enfold his erection in my fist. It jerks at my touch, and mine responds
similarly.
"You
can play with it, if you like," he says, slowly beginning to rub mine up and
down and running his fingers around the head. It is instantly obvious that he
is no novice at this!
"You
really know what you're doing, don't you?" I put to him, savouring his touch
and action.
"Of
course!" he replies. "Mick taught me when I was twelve. When I walked into his
bedroom one day from our shared bathroom, he was doing it to himself. Actually,
I was just standing at his doorway, watching him. When he finally saw me, he
yelled, `What are you doing?' and I answered, `What are YOU doing?'"
"He
said, `Get in here and I'll show you, but if you tell anyone, I'll creep into
your room while you're asleep and choke you to death!' He showed me what to do
and let me do it to him until his spunk spurted out. Then, he did it to me and
it felt amazing! I do it all the time now but I really prefer doing it with
someone else, instead of just by myself."
"Why
me?" I put to him, while both of our hands keep moving.
"I
recognised the look on your face," he tells me. "Mick gets that look whenever
he's horny and wants to muck around with me in his bedroom or mine. He doesn't
need to ask. Besides, I like you."
It's
ironic, I think, that I'm already doing with the young, 16-year-old brother
what I had hoped to do with the 20-year-old brother! And I didn't even instigate
anything!
I
feel my body give a surge of pre-cum which Vic takes and spreads, expertly,
down my shaft. My cock jerks at his touch.
"Nice!"
he says. "I knew that you wanted this!"
I
feel his own cock get wet and I make it slippery all of the way down too. I
fondle and tickle his smooth balls, and he puts his head back and groans.
"I
can suck you off, if you want," he tells me. "Mick taught me how to do that
too. He reckons that I'm really good at it."
"Why?
Is that what you want me to do to you?" I put to him.
"Hell,
yeah!" he grins at me. "Would you? Mick hasn't done it since his girlfriend
came on the scene. I hate her. He spends all of his time fucking her instead of
me."
"Whoa!
What did you just say?" I exclaim. "Did you just say that Michael fucks you?"
"You
can do it too, if you want," he tells me, quite shamelessly. "I enjoy it."
"Hey,
Vic," I say. "I don't mind wanking and sucking, but that's where I draw the
line!"
"I'll
settle for a blow job then," he tells me. "Thanks for offering!"
"I
wasn't exactly offering," I tell him, "but I wouldn't feel right doing it in here,
anyway. You never know when somebody could come along. Maybe the manager, or a
cleaner, with another key!"
Vic
says, "Mum's gone shopping and Mick said that the two of them would be about an
hour, so we could go to our place,"
"Actually,"
I tell him, "I think that my apartment would be safer. I have it all to myself,
and I'm not expecting anyone."
"OK.
Let's go!" he enthuses releasing his grip. Then, pausing, he says, "Oh, wait. We'd
better not leave together. You go first. What's your room number?"
I
tell him.
"Nice!"
he announces. "Two doors from mine. Same floor."
In
the ante-room, I put my Speedos back on, and sling the large beach towel over
my shoulder, allowing it to hang down the front to disguise my excitement. Then
I leave.
I
take the lift to my floor, and encounter Margaret coming out of her room as I
pass it.
"Forgot
my purse!" she says. "When I fished my phone out of my bag, I noticed that my
purse wasn't there! Just as well I didn't already have a basket full of
groceries at the checkout."
I'm
glad that Vic and I didn't finish playing sooner and that he didn't come up with
me!
I
open my door, check that the place is tidy enough for a visitor, and then wait.
Encouraged by what is going to happen, my cock is still hard.
I
hear a tentative knock, open the door, and Vic looks each way, up and down the
corridor, before ducking inside.
"I
had to put all of Mick's and Nic's things in our room first," he says, as if to
explain why he kept me waiting more than two minutes. "There was nobody there."
"I
saw your mother," I tell him. "She was coming out of your room when I passed
it."
"But
she already went shopping," he says.
"And
forgot her purse," I reply. "Just as well we didn't come back any earlier! Now,
where were we?"
We
shed our scant clothing and sit side-by-side on the comfortable triple lounge.
It is easy to sink into a reclining position and have full access to each
other's body, and we re-start our stimulation of each other.
In
better light this time, I again admire his youthful body and handsome `assets',
which respond with my every change of action.
He
copies what I do. "You're good at this too!" he chuckles. "Nice!"
We
continue until I warn him when I feel the beginnings of the end. "Getting
close."
He
sits up, and moves to kneeling between my knees and immediately goes down on my
cock. His experienced tongue and suction hasten what is inevitable.
"You
want to pull off, now?" I ask.
He
does. But only to answer, "Nah! I love this bit!"
And
he takes all of it into his mouth, swallowing twice, while I spasm and moan.
"Tissues!"
I say, pointing to the coffee table.
He
retrieves the box, and I take a couple to mop up. Not that he has left much!
I'm basically drying off his saliva.
"Thanks,
Vic." I say. "That was terrific! Your turn. Sit back on the lounge."
He
resumes his former reclining position, legs apart, cock standing upright. Well,
it's actually standing rigid off his abdomen instead of lying on it.
I
run my fingers up his inner thighs, past his cock and up to his chest, rub his
nipples and then proceed back down to cup his balls in one hand, while I take
his steely adolescence into my mouth fully, rubbing my nose in his pubic curls.
I
use my mouth and tongue, as he did. Then I pull off, and gently draw in each of
his balls in turn. Round and smooth! Then back to his cock, ensuring that my
lips squeeze his stiff bulk on the way back up, until I detect the change in
his breathing and the tensing of his body.
"Gonna
cum!" he groans.
"Relax
and just let it go!" I tell him.
I
count the spurts as he climaxes. Four big ones. And I suck out the remnant.
"Aargh!"
he says. "It's getting too sensitive!"
I
know what that feels like, so I pull off and give him the tissues.
I
sit alongside him. We are both spent!
"Wow!"
he grins at me. His eyes are sparkling through those thick eyelashes. "That was
really good! And you did some stuff that I want to try on Mick, when his
girlfriend gives me the chance!"
We
loll in post-euphoric relaxation, simply cupping each other's balls.
So,
Michael swings both ways. There's hope for me yet!
He
finally speaks. "Rob," he asks, "did you say that you were a massage
therapist?"
"Yes.
Why?"
"Well,
I had a car accident last week. Somebody hit me while I was driving, and I've
got a sore neck. Do you think that you could check it out for me? Please?"
"What?
In the Kona?" I ask him.
"No,"
he replies. "It was a different one."
I
get him to sit on the floor in front of me, between my legs, and I feel around
his shoulders, scapulae and neck. Some places elicit an "Ouch! Yes! That's the
spot! And that one too!"
I
relieve the trigger points and work the stiffness out of his muscles. Then,
with him lying on the carpet, I do a minor adjustment on his neck.
"Ohh.
That feels so much better," he says, twisting his head from side to side, then
up and down. "Thank you so much. For everything."
We
both put our Speedos back on, and he pulls on his shorts too.
I
check the hallway. "All clear," I tell him.
"Catch
you later," he says, and gives the bulk in my Speedos a soft, parting grope. He
turns and grins. I manage to land a swat on his tight backside on his way out.
I
close the door, put on the jug for a coffee and take a quick shower.
I
can't believe what has just happened! And, I reckon that it couldn't have been
any better with his older brother.
Having
woken from a necessary nap, I decide that a swim in the outdoor pool, will be
refreshing.
"Hello
Margaret," I say to the boys' mother, who is enhancing her tan on one of the
reclined sun lounges.
"Ah,
Rob," she says. "Please sit down. Can we talk while there's nobody else around?"
What
for? My heartbeat turns into a thumping bass drum.
"Victor
has just had a chat with me," Margaret starts.
I
instantly feel sick.
"He
told me something that you did to him," she says, with minimal expression.
Shit!
Why would Vic tell his mother what we did? Especially when he started it! I'm
as good as dead! I say nothing and wait for the guillotine to drop!
Margaret
says, "Victor mentioned that you were able to relieve the pain in his neck that
he's had for a week. Would it be too much of an imposition for you to look at
my elbow? I have really bad pains there. Everyone reckons that it's `tennis
elbow', but I don't play tennis."
I
hope that the relief in my chest and gut are not too question-provokingly obvious
as I exhale. But I relax, massively.
"Of
course," I say, calming my voice. "I suspect that it's tendonitis, and probably
emanating from your shoulder. I may not be able to `fix' it totally in a few
minutes, but I'm sure that I can relieve your current pain."
We
move to some chairs beneath an umbrella and I go into my `tennis elbow'
routine.
"Where
is everybody?" I ask.
"Michael
has taken Nic for another driving lesson in my Kona," Margaret starts. "She
wasn't feeling well for the first few days that we were here, and spent most of
the time in her room."
"I
parked next to the Kona," I tell her. "I thought that the `L' plates might have
been Victor's,"
"Why
would you think that?" she responds.
"Well,"
I say, "he's young and he did say that he hurt his neck when someone ran into
his car."
"I
think that you might have misheard him," Margaret tells me. "He was driving a `kart',
not a `car'. It was in a go-kart race. He's an amazingly-good competitor in his
age group."
"Do
you need a licence at a competitive level for karting?" I ask, running through
my head everything else that Victor told me, realising that his evasiveness was
to avoid telling a lie.
"Of
course," she replies. "They get up to some pretty amazing speeds."
While
we've been talking, Vic has emerged and walked up behind his mother, listening.
She hasn't seen him.
Margaret
continues, "The ironic thing is, that despite his driving skill in a kart,
Victor won't be eligible for a Learner's Licence on the road for another
thirteen months."
My
brain instantly does the calculation. WTF! The cute, randy bugger IS only
fourteen!
I
look over Margaret's shoulder and Vic pulls an `Oops!' face at me, then shrugs
and grins. He walks past us, drops his towel and his tight glutes head for the
pool.
"Hey,
Vic!" I call after him. "No diving for 24 hours. You need to look after your
neck."
He
turns, gives me a thumbs-up and grins, "Or, you could always give me another
treatment!"
Not
gonna happen!
-----
If you like these stories, please take a couple of minutes to email me
at
rob.zz@hotmail.com
I do try to reply to everyone. Please be patient.
-----
It is my intention to write a `massaging' story for each letter of the
alphabet.
Nifty has already posted `Adam', `Brock', `Callum', `Dylan', `Evan', `Flynn',
`Gino', `Hayden', `Isaac', `Josh', `Karl', `Liam', `Marco', `Nate', `Oliver',
`Paulo', `Quade', `Ronnie', `Simon', `Ty' and `Ulysses'.
(I think that `Gino' is one of my better works; however, it's in a different
location:) http://nifty.org/nifty/gay/highschool/massaging-gino/
-----
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