- Joined
- Nov 18, 2017
- Posts
- 396
- Media
- 3
- Likes
- 1,348
- Points
- 313
- Location
- Somewhere over the rainbow 🌈 Midwest
- Verification
- View
- Sexuality
- 69% Gay, 31% Straight
- Gender
- Male
The First Time, Jason’s Awakening!
Jason had always been a runner. The rhythm of his feet pounding the pavement, the steady cadence of his breath, and the burn in his muscles were his sanctuary. At thirty-two, he was in peak physical condition, his lean frame a testament to years of discipline and dedication. Married to his high school sweetheart, Emily, and settled into a comfortable life in Kansas City with their young daughter, Jason’s world was predictable, stable, and, he thought, complete. But after a particularly grueling twenty-mile run one Saturday morning, his body screamed for relief. His calves were tight, his hamstrings ached, and his lower back felt like it had been compressed into a vice. A massage was in order, and not just any massage—he needed someone who understood runners.
That’s when his running buddy, Mike, mentioned David. “He’s a pro, man,” Mike had said over post-run coffee at a local café. “A masseur who gets it. He’s a runner too, so he knows exactly how to work out those kinks. Plus, he’s got a home studio, super chill vibe. I’ll text you his number.” Jason, sore and desperate, didn’t think twice. He trusted Mike, who’d been part of his running group for years. By that afternoon, Jason had booked an appointment with David for the following day, Sunday, at 2 p.m.
David’s home studio was tucked away in a quiet, tree-lined neighborhood near Loose Park, Kansas City’s sprawling urban green space. The house was a modest but well-kept bungalow, with a small sign by the door that read “David’s Healing Touch: Massage Therapy.” Jason rang the bell, his gym bag slung over his shoulder, still feeling the dull ache from yesterday’s run. The door opened, and there stood David.
At fifty-two, David was striking. Taller than Jason’s six-foot frame, he had broad shoulders, a trim waist, and the kind of muscular definition that spoke of someone who took care of himself. His dark hair was streaked with silver, and his blue eyes sparkled with a warmth that immediately put Jason at ease. He wore a fitted black t-shirt and loose linen pants, his bare feet suggesting a casual, almost bohemian vibe. “Jason, right?” David said, his voice smooth and welcoming. “Come on in.”
The interior of the studio was a haven of calm. The air smelled faintly of lavender and eucalyptus, and soft instrumental music played from hidden speakers. Dim lighting cast a warm glow over the space, which was sparsely furnished with a massage table at the center, a small desk in the corner, and a shelf lined with oils and towels. David led Jason to a small changing area behind a bamboo screen. “Undress to your comfort level,” he said, his tone professional but friendly. “I’ll step out and give you a moment. Just hop on the table when you’re ready, face down.”
Jason nodded, feeling a mix of anticipation and exhaustion. He’d had massages before—therapeutic ones at the local spa or sports clinics—but this setup felt more intimate, more personal. As a fit guy who took pride in his physique, Jason had no qualms about nudity. He stripped down completely, folding his clothes neatly on a chair, and climbed onto the table, settling face down with his head in the cradle. The room’s ambiance enveloped him, the soft music and dim lighting lulling him into a state of relaxation even before the massage began.
David returned a few minutes later, his bare feet padding softly against the hardwood floor. “Alright, Jason,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “Let’s get you feeling good. Just breathe deeply and let me know if anything feels off.” Jason mumbled an affirmative, already sinking into the table’s plush surface.
David began with long, sweeping strokes, his warm hands gliding over Jason’s back, shoulders, and arms. The oil he used was lightly scented, warming Jason’s skin as David worked with a skilled, confident touch. Jason sighed, the tension in his muscles beginning to melt away. David’s hands moved with purpose, kneading the knots in Jason’s calves and thighs, his fingers digging just deep enough to release the soreness without causing pain. It was, Jason thought, one of the best massages he’d ever had.
As David worked his way up Jason’s legs, he spent extra time on his glutes, an area Jason hadn’t realized was so tight. David’s hands were firm, pressing into the muscle with slow, deliberate circles. It felt incredible, but also… different. No masseur had ever focused so much on that area before. Jason’s breath hitched slightly as David’s fingers grazed the sensitive skin near his inner thighs, sending an unexpected jolt of warmth through his body.
“You good?” David asked, his voice calm but with a hint of something else—curiosity, perhaps?
“Yeah,” Jason replied, his voice muffled by the cradle. He was good. More than good. The sensation was new, intense, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it. He tried to focus on the music, on his breathing, but his body was responding in ways he hadn’t anticipated.
David continued, his hands now working the crease where Jason’s glutes met his thighs, his fingers brushing closer to areas no one had ever touched during a massage. Jason’s heart rate picked up, and he felt a flush creeping up his neck. This was uncharted territory, but he didn’t want it to stop. David’s touch was confident, almost possessive, and Jason found himself relaxing into it, letting the sensations wash over him.
David’s fingers dipped lower, grazing the sensitive skin of Jason’s perineum, then lightly circling his anus. Jason’s body jerked involuntarily, a soft moan escaping his lips before he could stop it. His mind raced—part of him wanted to tense up, to question what was happening, but another part, a deeper, primal part, craved more.
“You good?” David asked again, his voice lower now, almost a whisper.
“Yes,” Jason managed, his voice barely audible. He was good. He was more than good. He was electrified.
David’s hands lingered, one fingertip pressing lightly against Jason’s entrance, not penetrating but teasing, sending waves of pleasure through him. Jason’s cock stirred beneath him, pressing against the table, and he felt a mix of shock and arousal. He’d never felt anything like this before, never imagined he could. His body was betraying him, or perhaps revealing something he’d never acknowledged.
David paused, and Jason heard the soft rustle of fabric. He kept his face in the cradle, his mind spinning, but he caught a glimpse of David’s bare feet and legs through the hole in the table. David was undressing. Jason’s breath caught, his pulse hammering in his ears. What was happening? Why wasn’t he stopping this?
David’s hands returned, this time to Jason’s head, his fingers threading gently through his hair. The touch was intimate, almost tender, and Jason felt his body relax despite the storm in his mind. David lifted Jason’s head from the cradle, turning it to the side. That’s when Jason saw it—David’s cock, hard and inches from his face. It was thick, veined, and glistening slightly, a stark contrast to the soft lighting of the room.
Jason froze, his eyes wide, his breath shallow. He’d never been this close to another man’s erection, never even considered it. He was straight. Married. A father. But his body was screaming something else, something he couldn’t ignore. David didn’t say a word, but his intent was clear. He used his fingers to gently part Jason’s lips, guiding himself forward. The tip of his cock brushed Jason’s mouth, and Jason’s lips parted almost instinctively.
“Just relax,” David murmured, his voice a soothing command. “All men want this. Let it happen.”
Jason’s mind reeled, but his body complied. David pushed forward, sliding into Jason’s mouth, slow and deliberate. The taste was foreign—salty, warm, alive. Jason’s first instinct was to pull away, but David’s hand on his head was firm, guiding him, holding him in place. And then, something shifted. The shock gave way to a strange, intoxicating thrill. Jason’s tongue moved tentatively, exploring, and David let out a low moan, encouraging him.
“That’s it,” David said, his voice thick with pleasure. He began to move, thrusting gently, his fingers tightening in Jason’s hair. At the same time, David’s other hand slid down Jason’s body, finding his hole again. He pressed a finger inside, slow and slick with oil, and Jason’s body arched, a muffled groan vibrating around David’s cock. The dual sensations—David in his mouth, David’s finger inside him—were overwhelming, a tidal wave of pleasure and surrender.
Jason’s own cock was rock hard now, grinding against the table with every movement. He was lost, caught in a haze of need he didn’t understand but couldn’t resist. David’s pace quickened, his thrusts deeper, his finger moving in rhythm. Jason felt helpless, consumed, but also alive in a way he’d never been. He was sucking eagerly now, his tongue swirling, his lips tight, driven by a hunger he didn’t know he had.
“That’s it,” David growled. “Here it comes…”
The warning was barely out before David’s cock pulsed, a hot rush flooding Jason’s mouth. Jason swallowed instinctively, the act both shocking and exhilarating. At the same moment, David’s finger pressed deeper, and the friction of Jason’s cock against the table pushed him over the edge. He came hard, his body shuddering, his own release spilling onto the table as waves of pleasure crashed through him. It was unlike any orgasm he’d ever had—raw, primal, all-consuming.
David withdrew slowly, his breathing heavy. He grabbed a towel, cleaning Jason gently, his touch almost reverent. “Get dressed,” he said softly, his voice back to its professional tone. “Take your time.”
Jason lay there for a moment, his mind a whirlwind. What had just happened? He felt exposed, vulnerable, but also strangely liberated. He climbed off the table, his legs shaky, and dressed in silence. David was already in the next room, giving him space. When Jason emerged, David was waiting with a glass of water and a warm smile.
“You did great,” David said, as if it were just another massage. “You’re welcome back anytime. Oh, and one more thing—I run with a group called Front Runners, a gay running club. We meet every Sunday at Loose Park, 8 a.m. You should join us. I think you’d fit right in.”
Jason nodded, still processing, his voice failing him. He took the water, mumbled a thank you, and left, his mind racing as he drove home.
The days that followed were a blur. Jason went through the motions—work, dinner with Emily, playing with their daughter—but his thoughts kept drifting back to David’s studio. The memory of that day was vivid, intrusive, and it stirred feelings he didn’t know how to reconcile. He was straight. He loved his wife. But what he’d felt, what he’d done, was undeniable. It wasn’t just physical—it was emotional, a connection he hadn’t expected.
He didn’t tell Emily. He couldn’t. But he also couldn’t shake the invitation to run with Front Runners. By Saturday night, curiosity and a strange pull he couldn’t name won out. He texted David, confirming he’d be there.
Sunday morning, Jason arrived at Loose Park, his stomach in knots. The group was small but lively—about a dozen men, ranging from their twenties to fifties, all fit, all welcoming. David greeted him with a knowing smile, introducing him as a “new friend.” The run was brisk, the conversation light, and Jason felt a sense of belonging he hadn’t anticipated. These men were open, unapologetic about who they were, and they accepted him without question.
After the run, David invited Jason for coffee with a few others. They laughed, shared stories, and made plans for the next week. Jason listened more than he spoke, but he felt seen, understood in a way he hadn’t before. David didn’t push, didn’t bring up the massage, but his presence was a quiet anchor.
Jason returned to David’s studio the following week, and the week after that. Each session was a plunge into a world he was only beginning to understand, a revelation guided by David’s knowing hands and quiet confidence. The massages always ended the same way, with Jason surrendering to desires that felt less like a betrayal and more like a truth he’d buried. Outside the studio, his connection with David grew through runs with Front Runners, coffee meetups, and late-night conversations that peeled back layers of his life. As he laughed with the group, their openness and authenticity mirrored something inside him, something he could no longer ignore. Jason began to question everything—his marriage to Emily, the life he’d built, the man he’d pretended to be. He loved Emily, but the love felt like an echo of a younger, less honest self. The façade he’d lived behind was crumbling, and with each run, each touch from David, he felt ready to accept a truth he’d fought for years: he was a gay man, and this was the life he wanted to claim.
For Jason, it was the beginning of a profound transformation, one that would reshape his future. Loose Park, with its winding trails and open fields, became more than a place to run. It was where he found a community, a truth, and the courage to step into his authentic self, guided by David and the unexpected friendship that had set him free.
Jason had always been a runner. The rhythm of his feet pounding the pavement, the steady cadence of his breath, and the burn in his muscles were his sanctuary. At thirty-two, he was in peak physical condition, his lean frame a testament to years of discipline and dedication. Married to his high school sweetheart, Emily, and settled into a comfortable life in Kansas City with their young daughter, Jason’s world was predictable, stable, and, he thought, complete. But after a particularly grueling twenty-mile run one Saturday morning, his body screamed for relief. His calves were tight, his hamstrings ached, and his lower back felt like it had been compressed into a vice. A massage was in order, and not just any massage—he needed someone who understood runners.
That’s when his running buddy, Mike, mentioned David. “He’s a pro, man,” Mike had said over post-run coffee at a local café. “A masseur who gets it. He’s a runner too, so he knows exactly how to work out those kinks. Plus, he’s got a home studio, super chill vibe. I’ll text you his number.” Jason, sore and desperate, didn’t think twice. He trusted Mike, who’d been part of his running group for years. By that afternoon, Jason had booked an appointment with David for the following day, Sunday, at 2 p.m.
David’s home studio was tucked away in a quiet, tree-lined neighborhood near Loose Park, Kansas City’s sprawling urban green space. The house was a modest but well-kept bungalow, with a small sign by the door that read “David’s Healing Touch: Massage Therapy.” Jason rang the bell, his gym bag slung over his shoulder, still feeling the dull ache from yesterday’s run. The door opened, and there stood David.
At fifty-two, David was striking. Taller than Jason’s six-foot frame, he had broad shoulders, a trim waist, and the kind of muscular definition that spoke of someone who took care of himself. His dark hair was streaked with silver, and his blue eyes sparkled with a warmth that immediately put Jason at ease. He wore a fitted black t-shirt and loose linen pants, his bare feet suggesting a casual, almost bohemian vibe. “Jason, right?” David said, his voice smooth and welcoming. “Come on in.”
The interior of the studio was a haven of calm. The air smelled faintly of lavender and eucalyptus, and soft instrumental music played from hidden speakers. Dim lighting cast a warm glow over the space, which was sparsely furnished with a massage table at the center, a small desk in the corner, and a shelf lined with oils and towels. David led Jason to a small changing area behind a bamboo screen. “Undress to your comfort level,” he said, his tone professional but friendly. “I’ll step out and give you a moment. Just hop on the table when you’re ready, face down.”
Jason nodded, feeling a mix of anticipation and exhaustion. He’d had massages before—therapeutic ones at the local spa or sports clinics—but this setup felt more intimate, more personal. As a fit guy who took pride in his physique, Jason had no qualms about nudity. He stripped down completely, folding his clothes neatly on a chair, and climbed onto the table, settling face down with his head in the cradle. The room’s ambiance enveloped him, the soft music and dim lighting lulling him into a state of relaxation even before the massage began.
David returned a few minutes later, his bare feet padding softly against the hardwood floor. “Alright, Jason,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “Let’s get you feeling good. Just breathe deeply and let me know if anything feels off.” Jason mumbled an affirmative, already sinking into the table’s plush surface.
David began with long, sweeping strokes, his warm hands gliding over Jason’s back, shoulders, and arms. The oil he used was lightly scented, warming Jason’s skin as David worked with a skilled, confident touch. Jason sighed, the tension in his muscles beginning to melt away. David’s hands moved with purpose, kneading the knots in Jason’s calves and thighs, his fingers digging just deep enough to release the soreness without causing pain. It was, Jason thought, one of the best massages he’d ever had.
As David worked his way up Jason’s legs, he spent extra time on his glutes, an area Jason hadn’t realized was so tight. David’s hands were firm, pressing into the muscle with slow, deliberate circles. It felt incredible, but also… different. No masseur had ever focused so much on that area before. Jason’s breath hitched slightly as David’s fingers grazed the sensitive skin near his inner thighs, sending an unexpected jolt of warmth through his body.
“You good?” David asked, his voice calm but with a hint of something else—curiosity, perhaps?
“Yeah,” Jason replied, his voice muffled by the cradle. He was good. More than good. The sensation was new, intense, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it. He tried to focus on the music, on his breathing, but his body was responding in ways he hadn’t anticipated.
David continued, his hands now working the crease where Jason’s glutes met his thighs, his fingers brushing closer to areas no one had ever touched during a massage. Jason’s heart rate picked up, and he felt a flush creeping up his neck. This was uncharted territory, but he didn’t want it to stop. David’s touch was confident, almost possessive, and Jason found himself relaxing into it, letting the sensations wash over him.
David’s fingers dipped lower, grazing the sensitive skin of Jason’s perineum, then lightly circling his anus. Jason’s body jerked involuntarily, a soft moan escaping his lips before he could stop it. His mind raced—part of him wanted to tense up, to question what was happening, but another part, a deeper, primal part, craved more.
“You good?” David asked again, his voice lower now, almost a whisper.
“Yes,” Jason managed, his voice barely audible. He was good. He was more than good. He was electrified.
David’s hands lingered, one fingertip pressing lightly against Jason’s entrance, not penetrating but teasing, sending waves of pleasure through him. Jason’s cock stirred beneath him, pressing against the table, and he felt a mix of shock and arousal. He’d never felt anything like this before, never imagined he could. His body was betraying him, or perhaps revealing something he’d never acknowledged.
David paused, and Jason heard the soft rustle of fabric. He kept his face in the cradle, his mind spinning, but he caught a glimpse of David’s bare feet and legs through the hole in the table. David was undressing. Jason’s breath caught, his pulse hammering in his ears. What was happening? Why wasn’t he stopping this?
David’s hands returned, this time to Jason’s head, his fingers threading gently through his hair. The touch was intimate, almost tender, and Jason felt his body relax despite the storm in his mind. David lifted Jason’s head from the cradle, turning it to the side. That’s when Jason saw it—David’s cock, hard and inches from his face. It was thick, veined, and glistening slightly, a stark contrast to the soft lighting of the room.
Jason froze, his eyes wide, his breath shallow. He’d never been this close to another man’s erection, never even considered it. He was straight. Married. A father. But his body was screaming something else, something he couldn’t ignore. David didn’t say a word, but his intent was clear. He used his fingers to gently part Jason’s lips, guiding himself forward. The tip of his cock brushed Jason’s mouth, and Jason’s lips parted almost instinctively.
“Just relax,” David murmured, his voice a soothing command. “All men want this. Let it happen.”
Jason’s mind reeled, but his body complied. David pushed forward, sliding into Jason’s mouth, slow and deliberate. The taste was foreign—salty, warm, alive. Jason’s first instinct was to pull away, but David’s hand on his head was firm, guiding him, holding him in place. And then, something shifted. The shock gave way to a strange, intoxicating thrill. Jason’s tongue moved tentatively, exploring, and David let out a low moan, encouraging him.
“That’s it,” David said, his voice thick with pleasure. He began to move, thrusting gently, his fingers tightening in Jason’s hair. At the same time, David’s other hand slid down Jason’s body, finding his hole again. He pressed a finger inside, slow and slick with oil, and Jason’s body arched, a muffled groan vibrating around David’s cock. The dual sensations—David in his mouth, David’s finger inside him—were overwhelming, a tidal wave of pleasure and surrender.
Jason’s own cock was rock hard now, grinding against the table with every movement. He was lost, caught in a haze of need he didn’t understand but couldn’t resist. David’s pace quickened, his thrusts deeper, his finger moving in rhythm. Jason felt helpless, consumed, but also alive in a way he’d never been. He was sucking eagerly now, his tongue swirling, his lips tight, driven by a hunger he didn’t know he had.
“That’s it,” David growled. “Here it comes…”
The warning was barely out before David’s cock pulsed, a hot rush flooding Jason’s mouth. Jason swallowed instinctively, the act both shocking and exhilarating. At the same moment, David’s finger pressed deeper, and the friction of Jason’s cock against the table pushed him over the edge. He came hard, his body shuddering, his own release spilling onto the table as waves of pleasure crashed through him. It was unlike any orgasm he’d ever had—raw, primal, all-consuming.
David withdrew slowly, his breathing heavy. He grabbed a towel, cleaning Jason gently, his touch almost reverent. “Get dressed,” he said softly, his voice back to its professional tone. “Take your time.”
Jason lay there for a moment, his mind a whirlwind. What had just happened? He felt exposed, vulnerable, but also strangely liberated. He climbed off the table, his legs shaky, and dressed in silence. David was already in the next room, giving him space. When Jason emerged, David was waiting with a glass of water and a warm smile.
“You did great,” David said, as if it were just another massage. “You’re welcome back anytime. Oh, and one more thing—I run with a group called Front Runners, a gay running club. We meet every Sunday at Loose Park, 8 a.m. You should join us. I think you’d fit right in.”
Jason nodded, still processing, his voice failing him. He took the water, mumbled a thank you, and left, his mind racing as he drove home.
The days that followed were a blur. Jason went through the motions—work, dinner with Emily, playing with their daughter—but his thoughts kept drifting back to David’s studio. The memory of that day was vivid, intrusive, and it stirred feelings he didn’t know how to reconcile. He was straight. He loved his wife. But what he’d felt, what he’d done, was undeniable. It wasn’t just physical—it was emotional, a connection he hadn’t expected.
He didn’t tell Emily. He couldn’t. But he also couldn’t shake the invitation to run with Front Runners. By Saturday night, curiosity and a strange pull he couldn’t name won out. He texted David, confirming he’d be there.
Sunday morning, Jason arrived at Loose Park, his stomach in knots. The group was small but lively—about a dozen men, ranging from their twenties to fifties, all fit, all welcoming. David greeted him with a knowing smile, introducing him as a “new friend.” The run was brisk, the conversation light, and Jason felt a sense of belonging he hadn’t anticipated. These men were open, unapologetic about who they were, and they accepted him without question.
After the run, David invited Jason for coffee with a few others. They laughed, shared stories, and made plans for the next week. Jason listened more than he spoke, but he felt seen, understood in a way he hadn’t before. David didn’t push, didn’t bring up the massage, but his presence was a quiet anchor.
Jason returned to David’s studio the following week, and the week after that. Each session was a plunge into a world he was only beginning to understand, a revelation guided by David’s knowing hands and quiet confidence. The massages always ended the same way, with Jason surrendering to desires that felt less like a betrayal and more like a truth he’d buried. Outside the studio, his connection with David grew through runs with Front Runners, coffee meetups, and late-night conversations that peeled back layers of his life. As he laughed with the group, their openness and authenticity mirrored something inside him, something he could no longer ignore. Jason began to question everything—his marriage to Emily, the life he’d built, the man he’d pretended to be. He loved Emily, but the love felt like an echo of a younger, less honest self. The façade he’d lived behind was crumbling, and with each run, each touch from David, he felt ready to accept a truth he’d fought for years: he was a gay man, and this was the life he wanted to claim.
For Jason, it was the beginning of a profound transformation, one that would reshape his future. Loose Park, with its winding trails and open fields, became more than a place to run. It was where he found a community, a truth, and the courage to step into his authentic self, guided by David and the unexpected friendship that had set him free.
