8 comments/ 18740 views/ 3 favorites Silent Man By: J_L_Gravian He stands in the shadows, a flickering street lamp the only source of light in the dark narrow alleyway. He slowly opens and closes his fists making his hands more comfortable in the black leather gloves he wears. Dressed completely in black he waits silently for his prey. He sees her at the far end of the ally walking quickly toward her back gate. With her head down searching in her handbag for keys she doesn't notice the slight movement in the gloom as he pulls down the ski mask. Reaching the gate the attractive twenty two year old furtively looks around her as she thinks she hears a noise, but it is nothing. She reaches for the gate handle and turns it stepping over the threshold of her yard. Before she is even through the gate something solid and heavy slams into her back sending her sprawling forwards onto the cold damp concrete. Looking up and around she screams as she sees him. The tall broad man looming over her, his face covered in an emotionless featureless mask. Head to toe in black with not a single area of flesh showing. She takes it all in in a split second, so dark, so cold, so terrifying. He reaches down and grabs her by the hair, he doesn't even attempt to stop or stifle her screams. With a single brutal tug he lifts her to her feet and traps her body against his with his free arm. So strong, so confident, he picks her off her feet effortlessly and before moving kicks backwards. A second later there is a loud bang as the gate is slammed shut against it's frame. The sound only adds to her terror, nobody would be able to see what was happening now, just the way he wants it she thinks as she screams long and hard again. Frantically she tries to struggle against him but he is too strong. She feels a moment of hope as she catches sight of a nearby bedroom light come on in a neighbours house, but her hopes dissolve as it is switched off just as quickly. She flails her legs and kicks out trying to hurt him or break free but it is useless as his arm tightens around her waist and he reaches for her bag. Without a pause he up ends the small brown leather bag so that it's contents spill to the floor. Her purse, a lipstick, mascara, hairbrush, some tissues, her mobile phone, and the item he is looking for scatter around their feet. Suddenly he bends and retrieves her keys from where they have fallen, it happens so quickly that she doesn't even have the opportunity to struggle free or at least try too. With the keys in hand he moves for the door, all the time the girl struggling and screaming, he doesn't care, he will have her inside soon. As he approaches the door a security light blinks on and illuminates the yard and what is going on in it. Without a seconds thought he smashes it with the elbow of his free arm as he passes and the yard is plunged back into darkness. As he gets her to the door she begins to struggle harder and even has the presence of mind to scratch and punch at him, but that doesn't matter, he likes it when they fight. Without breaking his stride he slams her face first into the door, it completely stuns her and he knows that the wind has been knocked out of her. Quickly he tries the different keys that are attached to the key ring and on the third attempt there is a satisfying click as the door unlocks and then swings inward slightly. Pocketing the keys he drags the stunned girl through the door and into the house. There is just enough light for him to see that they are in the kitchen and at the other side of the room there is another door leading out of it. Letting go of the girl he pushes her to the floor and manhandles her onto her front. She is regaining her senses now and begins to struggle as he grabs an ankle and drags her a couple of feet backwards towards the door they just entered through. As she tries to push herself up in a bid to stand he cuffs her hard around the head and she instantly drops back to the floor before he drops to his knees straddling her midriff but facing the door. Fishing into his pocket he pulls out the keys and finding the correct one re-locks the door from the inside. As she hears what he is doing she renews her efforts to get free, she screams and thrashes around beneath him attempting to dislodge him. But again he simply ignores her and re-pockets the keys. Abruptly he stands up and she suddenly has nothing keeping her from moving. With terror gripping her and adrenalin rushing through her she springs to her feet and heads for the opposite door. Three, Five, seven metres pass before she is stopped in her tracks. A burning hot pain sears through her head as she is jerked backwards by the what seems like inhumanly strong grip holding her hair. She is pulled backwards all her momentum gone now, and as she turns to claw at her attacker blow lands across her cheek like a thunder clap. Her knees go weak, her vision blurs momentarily, and her head swims as she tries to cling to consciousness. The iron grip loosens and she crumples to the floor not entirely aware of what is going on around her. She can sense movement and hears furniture scraping along the tiled floor, but all she can see are stars. The cold of the tiles beneath her seems to help bring her round as it seeps through the linen skirt and thin cotton long sleeved top that she is wearing. Murmuring she groggily pushes herself to a sitting position and starts to look around at what is going on. The man finishes moving the large kitchen dining table to the centre of the room and clears the chairs from around it as he keeps one eye on the girl. She is almost ko'd by his back hander, but is already moving and recovering. He sees her push herself up and start to look around before she screams and tries to stand once she sees what he is doing. He springs forward in three paces to intercept her as she clambers to her feet. This time she is able to put up a bit of a fight and begins punching, scratching, and even kicking at him. He pays the blows no heed as he unceremoniously grips the fabric of her top and flings her across the room toward the table. She half stumbles and half falls as his shear strength propels her. He is on her again, this time from behind. He bends her over the table forcing her chest flat against it's surface, her face pushed painfully on one side as he grips her wrists behind her back with one large leather gloved hand. She feels him moving, almost stretching, then she hears it. The metallic ring of a blade being unsheathed. He leans his weight down on her back as she tries to pull away from the sound and begins screaming and begging to be let free. Keeping her pinned he moves his blade between her legs and thrusts it through the fabric of her skirt, there is an audible rip as the cold steel cuts cleanly through it. Not wanting to put the knife down he clenches it in his teeth as he pulls her around and manhandles her back down to the floor. Again he ignores her struggles as he gets her onto her front and straddles her across the small of her back so that he is facing her feet. Once there he manoeuvres her arms so that they are straight down by her side and then pins them there with his legs. Then to be certain she will not be able to move he sits his weight down on her back. Almost immediately her struggles weaken as all she can realistically do is wriggle a little and breathe. Kicking her legs and drumming her feet on the hard floor she continues to scream and cry as he reaches down and tears the skirt straight down the centre from the cut he has made with the knife. Quickly but purposefully he rips long strips from the fabric with his bare hands and stuffs them into a pocket on his trousers. Standing up quickly he reaches down and grips her by the hair and hauls her to her feet again. She is sobbing and moves slowly as the realisation of what is about to happen dawns on her. He pushes her back so that her backside is pressed up against the edge of the table, so that she has to lean backwards to get away from him. He puts his hand on her chest and pushes, the force of it causing her to stumble backward over the table top she attempts to sit up but again his hand presses firmly between her soft tits, she knows what he wants her to do. A few seconds later and after an awkward wriggle she lays on the table with him standing menacingly over her. Placing the knife on a work top the man fishes in his pocket for the rag strips and steps toward her. She pleads with him to leave her be, to take whatever he wants and just leave. Whimpering, she tells him that she won't even call the police. Roughly grabbing one of her wrists he yanks her arm up above her head to the corner of the table top and ties a strip tightly around it. Then guiding the strip over the edge he ties the other end securely to the table leg before repeating the process on the other arm. He makes sure the knots are tight and dig into her flesh harshly before moving to her legs. She writhes and wriggles against the restraints, even tries lifting her legs and lashing out at him but he simply grabs one and slams it back down before wrenching it to the corner and tying it as tightly as he had the wrists. Forcing the other leg open so that she is spread-eagled in a cross shape. He ties the final knot and moves up towards her head smiling wickedly behind his mask. Her eyes are like saucers as they stare fearfully at him approaching, his hands clenching the last couple of rag strips. She begins to roll her head from side to side to make it more difficult for him, but he simply grips her hard around the jaw and digs his leather clad fingers into the sides of her mouth. The pain it causes makes her scream again and before she has the opportunity to snap it shut again he is already forcing a piece of screwed up rag in hard until it hits the back of her throat. Her screams muffled now he forces another rag in after the first and then whilst moving around behind her he unravels the final piece. He lays the piece over her stuffed mouth and runs it down either side of her face to tie it painfully tightly behind her head leaving her gagged so completely that she can hardly draw adequate breath let alone scream for help. Taking a moment to admire his handy work the man steps back from the table and flips the knife in his hand. The girls eyes are wide open and her nostrils flare each time she tries to inhale. He grins behind the mask again and moves to the side of her quickly. He lifts the bottom edge of her top to reveal the waist band of the ruined skirt before cutting through it with the sharp blade and running the cold steel down the length of the skirt. Sliced from waist to hem the skirt falls open to reveal a pair of crisp white panties barely covering the pouting labia of a smooth shaven cunt. Next he grabs the neck of her sweatshirt and cuts down the centre of it between her pert breasts. This too falls open, and beneath it he sees a firm pair of perky tits a little on the small side but held in a crisp white lacy bra. The girl is sobbing and trying to drag air into her lungs whilst she lays helpless and sweating at the mercy of the man. Her head is swimming, her lungs are burning, and she can feel the bruise already starting to come up on her cheek from his blow. Without preamble the man cuts through the bras centre and pulls the two halves open to expose creamy white supple flesh topped off with two small rose pink nipples that stand erect in the chilly air. Not able to resist the man reaches down and roughly mauls the quivering tits and slaps them several times before turning his attention to the panties. Slowly he drags his fingers over the mound of her cunt taking particular pleasure at the sight of her smooth tanned thighs trembling at his touch. He traces the crease up the middle of her young mound and purposefully presses harder as he reaches the top of the cleft. The girl has stopped screaming now and is simply trying to breathe and stop from trembling as the animal touches her. She feels so weak, so helpless, her adrenalin is pumping and she can feel every tiny movement of his finger tips and every pressure of his touch. Suddenly he pulls the gusset of the underwear away from her flesh and deftly slices through it with the blade leaving the garment hanging open. He pulls back the top flap and feasts his eyes on the sight of well shaven pouting and slightly open cunt. Wasting no time the man moves to the bottom of the table to stand between her legs and then raises the knife so that she can see it. For added effect he twists the blade in the air so that the light catches it, it has the desired effect. The girl begins to scream as hard as her oxygen starved lungs will allow her but all she manages to do is make herself light headed from the effort. Pulling himself up onto the table so that he is knelt between her legs the man looks fixedly at the cunt before him. She sees his eyes clearly for the first time and her blood runs cold at the sight, even his eyes are almost black. They are so dark that the brown of the iris almost matches the black of the pupils, they look soulless. New fear grips her and she suddenly knows that she is not going to survive the night, hopelessly she begins to cry again. Slowly, ever so slowly the man drags the pointed tip of the knife blade up one of her labia and then back down the other. All the time her legs tremble but she dare not move for fear of being cut by the sharp tip, he liked that too. He liked that she was so frightened that she wouldn't even move. He can hear her ragged breath and delights in her whimper as he circles her clit with the knife point. Her skin visibly tenses as he torments her with the cruel sharp steel, it's razor edge gliding over and around the small pink bud. Without breaking the fluidity of his movements the man draws the shimmering blade down and across her left inner thigh causing her to whimper through the gag and ripples of fear to rush through her. Smiling to himself he sees that the cunt is moist and getting wetter with each moment that passes. He drags the shining blade over the soft vulnerable flesh with the skill of an expert and lets the broadest width of blade brush against and caress the pouting lips. He increases the pace of his movements and he is soon darting the keen edge all over her quivering mound. Rigid with terror the girl lays in mute shock at what is happening. After some time he ceases his tease and gets down to business. Parting her cunt lips with one hand he guides the knife blade to her wet entrance. As the tip of the blade spikes the inner fold of one of the cunt lips she wails into the gag and her tears begin to flow once more. Slowly, deliberately he pushes the cold steel into her. Ensuring his index finger runs along the length of the blade with his finger tip at the point he slides it in millimetre by millimetre until around 5cm has penetrated her. Looking up to see the expression on her face he begins to slide the blade and his finger in and out of the soaking cunt. Her face is a mask of fear, yet he sees a glimmer of something else, something primal. Her cheeks, neck and chest are blotched with a deep flush of red, and he cannot help but notice that the girls cunt is almost flowing with arousal. Her head raises and their eyes meet, hers frozen wide in fear, his cold and unforgiving. Holding her gaze for several seconds he then withdraws his index finger from it's position at the blades side and watches as she registers what he has done, and in fact what he is about to do. Slowly he slides the blade back a few millimetres before pushing it back inside. He keeps the movement slow and unhurried, and pushes a little deeper with each inward thrust. He watches closely as the polished steel becomes ever more coated with her juices. He can see that the little whore is getting off on it despite her obvious fear. He chuckles inwardly as he thinks "her mind says no, but her body says yes yes yes." The blade is a good three inches inside the little whore now and she still hasn't moved a muscle. Her skin is deathly pale, and her eyes are wide as she strains to see what he is doing. Morbid curiosity grips her as she tries to reason that he can't really be fucking her with a knife, can he?! Before long she can feel the blade inside her, violating her, it's cold steel making her pussy throb with each movement. She stops herself from shuddering as she thinks about what that blade could do to her, how it could mutilate her. She watches the man as he calmly begins sliding the blade back and forth a little faster. She can feel it penetrating her deeper with each thrust, feel it's sharp edges sliding over her sensitive cunt walls. She sucks in a sharp intake of breath through her teeth as she feels him twist the blade from left to right, she feels it trying to either push her cunt walls apart or worse cut into them. She screams urgently hoping that this will somehow make him stop, but it soon becomes apparent that he isn't going to. Within moments of that thought she feels the blade being pushed into her deeper than it has ever been. Panic rushes through her as she remembers that the blade looked like it must have been eight inches long and she feels herself starting to go faint. As the man fuck's her with it she begins to sob again not only at the fear of what he is doing to her but also at the humiliation of being made to endure such a horrific act. She feels the knife invading her, raping her, she is a piece of meet, a rag doll, the thoughts flood through her and finally she looses her battle to stay conscious. Her head swimming with dazed confusion the helpless girl slowly awakens from her blackout. Reality snaps her back to full awareness as she tries to move but remembers that she is firmly restrained. Realising that the man is no longer over her, his blade no longer impaling her she begins to let out a slow breath of relief as she begins to sob uncontrollably over her ordeal. Her trembling calm is shattered when she hears movement from elsewhere. Her head whips around trying to locate the source of the noise but she is unable to see anything but the cold bare interior of her plain modern kitchen. Then like a monster from a horrific nightmare the fiend appears through the door that leads into the modest homes hallway. He stops just inside the room turning his soulless gaze upon her. Her stomach lurches and an overwhelming sense of nausea washes over her as he inclines his masked face and stares at her through cold black eyes. With her mouth still stuffed with rag she screams impotently through it as he advances toward her. Reaching the table he climbs up onto it and manoeuvres himself so that he is on all fours with his hands flat on the tables surface on either side of her head. The blank black plastic of the mask is inches from her terrified pale face as she stares frozen in fear up at him. Savouring her fear for several seconds he reaches down with one hand and unzips his fly. She shakes her head and tears roll from her eyes as they plead pathetically up at him. Releasing his hard cock from the confines of his heavy duty trousers the fiend lowers his hips towards his prize. Finding the outer lips of the whimpering girls sweet pussy he nudges at the entrance noting with some amusement that the little whore is still wet. He feels her trembling beneath him, her sobbing filling his ears as he begins to force his way inside. Parting her lips as he pushes forward his engorged cock head meets resistance as he starts to penetrate her. Savouring her moment of final resistance he grins as he pulls back ever so slightly. Oppressively he pins her in place, his bulk presenting an immovable barrier that she doubted she would be able to overcome even if she were not restrained. The sound of his fly being unzipped makes her stomach lurch as a stab of inevitability lances at her consciousness. The blank pitiless gaze stares out from behind the cold black plastic as he lowers his face towards hers. Just before she turns her face away she notices that there is something there now, a glint, a flicker of intelligence, of lust. That one single moment of clarification, of recognition that this beast, this animal wasn't just some mindless moron that was smacked out of his head and mugging for cash or valuables with the added bonus of a fuck thrown in scared her far more than anything that had happened so far. The fact that he was getting off on it and had probably planned the whole thing was truly chilling. Silent Man He watches through the masks eye pieces as the little whore tenses as he begins to penetrate her deeper. He can feel her tightness as he drives inward building into a steady pounding rhythm. He takes pleasure from the rapidly changing expressions of emotions on her tear streaked face. Fear, pain, anger, hatred, and something else, something that she clearly struggles with, something she tries to deny yet something that she cannot stop. She tenses her cunt as hard as she can to try and prevent him from violating her further but it is no use, his rampant cock forces inward sending a sharp stinging pain through her opening as it yields under the onslaught. He drives deeper, harder, thrusting more viciously as he builds his rhythm. She feels his hot breath on her face as he savages her, all the while her eyes screwed tight shut. She begins to moan into the gag, more of a reflex than a conscious thought. The sensations in her cunt are increasing in intensity the more he uses her, and as she tries in vain to prevent it the first wave of an earth shattering orgasm hits her. He breathes hard and grunts as he ploughs into her pummelling her cunt lips hard between their bodies. He can hear her moans, see her trying to fight against the sensations her body responds to. As he watches he sees her shaking her head as she cum's long and hard over his naked cock. He grins wickedly as he watches her finally submit to the inevitable and she gushes hot sweet fuck juice over him, the table and the remnants of her tattered clothes. He doesn't slow his pace or even check to see if she is out of her orgasmic bliss, he just fuck's and fuck's and fuck's, harder deeper, harder and deeper until with a final thrust he empties his load within her. For long moments he thrusts and twitches as his seed floods her. As his first jet erupts he moves a hand to her throat and grips her jaw between his thumb and forefinger and pushes his hand hard down against her vulnerable flesh. Her eyes snap open and his intense cruel gaze locks with her meek fear filled stare as her degradation is complete. Several minutes pass as he holds his position buried inside her, his seed seeping from her savaged cunt. His breathing heavy and low as his heart rate returns to normal. She lays bruised, sore and helpless, his weight pressing down on her like a beast pinning it's prey. Then sweet relief fills her as he pushes himself away sliding his flagging cock from her. She lays staring up at the ceiling not wanting to acknowledge his presence, trying to ignore the sounds as he moves nearby, she shuts her eyes again and wills him to leave. Her boyfriend will be home from his late shift soon and she will be safe. An overwhelming feeling of shame engulfs her as she thinks about how her body has just betrayed her, how she responded to the fiends brutal treatment. She begins to sob again and doesn't even notice when the blank faced man picks up his knife and silently slips from the building. Returning home from his shift the boyfriend lets himself through the front door and heads straight to the bathroom adjoining the bedroom to use the toilet before going to the kitchen to make himself and his sleeping girlfriend a cup of tea. When he gets to the bathroom he takes his dirty t-shirt out of his backpack and throws it in the washing basket then uses the toilet and heads downstairs to the kitchen. Switching on the light he hears a brief yelp and stepping into the room he sees his girlfriend tied to the kitchen table, her clothes torn and ruined exposing her smooth pale skin covered in goose bumps. Rushing over to her he frantically pulls at the rags gagging her and the ties restraining her and looks into her shell shocked face as he tells her that everything will be ok. Her tired tear streaked face looks up at him with tears of pure relief welling in her eyes as she says in a crackling whisper "I thought you would never get home. I thought I was going to die." Scooping her into his arms he tells her he loves her and repeatedly reassures her that everything will be ok. Lovingly he carries her to the main bathroom and showers her taking care to warm her skin and pad softly at her bruises as she tells him what happened. Once she is warm and clean he takes her to the bedroom and settles her into bed before climbing in next to her and switching off the light. Several hours later she awakes with a need to use the bathroom and with aching limbs she climbs slowly out of bed not wanting to wake her slumbering boyfriend. Switching on the light in the bathroom she quietly pushes the door shut and sits on the toilet. Looking to her left she sees her boyfriends backpack sitting next to the washing basket with it's top flap open. Her heart freezes and her breath catches in her throat as she sees the familiar blank face of the cold black mask staring back at her. Trembling she reaches across and pulls out the bags contents. Slowly, unbelieving she first pulls out the mask followed by a pair of black leather gloves and finally a small cylindrical tube. Putting the other items to one side she opens the cylinder with shaking fingers and gasps in shock as she looks at a pair of almost black contact lenses. With her mind numb she blankly washes her hands and then places her discovery back in the bag. Taking a moment to steady herself she tries to deny the insistent throbbing of her cunt before she turns and heads back to the bedroom. Silent Massage Author's note: Apologies both to my gay and bi and even straight colleagues for using this category. Come on Lit there's enough of us who consider ourselves to be bi to warrant our own category. Thanks James ***** Silent Massage. They both want it, but won't admit it! James, is in his mid-forties. He is married to Kelly a pretty blonde in her early forties. By choice they have no children. They are both successful in business with her running a training consultancy, which takes her all over the UK and occasionally overseas. He runs a successful business providing marketing advice mainly to large companies. They are financially very comfortable and they can both have pretty much whatever they want. Despite all that he is desperately unhappy and very lonely. With Kelly travelling nearly half of each month James is alone an awful amount. Inevitably that has affected their marriage and particularly their sex life, which at the best nowadays is intermittent. He was trying to take off a few pounds and tone up his legs for the upcoming tennis season. Losing himself in the music he pushed his body to the limit going for what used to be called 'the burn' when Jane Fonda started the craze for celebrity work out videos. His legs ached and his lungs felt like exploding as he completed twenty minutes fast running. Almost staggering to the changing room covered in sweat he nodded to a few members with who he had become acquainted. James's work out obsession was not just to maintain his trim body. It was also like a penance, a sort of confessional. He worked out so hard he forgot about his sex bereft life-style. He pushed from his mind the lurid thoughts he continually had about other men. He banished the idea that was rarely far from his thinking of having another affair. He had one several years ago and had vowed never again. But now he was not sure about that vow. He was not convinced that he would be able longer-term resist satisfying the dam of frustration, not sure he would be able to stop himself finding at the best a fuckbuddy and at worse a lover. The joy of making his muscles scream had a purging effect on him and made him feel a different man; almost normal he often smiled afterwards. Completing his hour long 'burn' he changed and went to the pool. His fifty lengths in the solitude of the water gave him time to think. But as usual his thoughts were not logical; they were not as they should be. Pushing himself to the limit made him think about his body, made him think about what his body wants and needs. Yes the extremes of the burn made him feel horny. After the swim, steam and sauna James was, as usual on the massage table. He again tried to push the wanton thoughts out of his mind. He tried thinking of work, but then his mind focused on the new, young marketing director who had just become a client. He tried thinking of the upcoming tennis season, but all that did was flood his mind with visions of the young tennis players. Near to the end of his swim his thoughts focused on a young personal trainer who was still on duty as a life guard watching him go up and down the pool. His mind had gone into overdrive about him and he had imagined trying it on with him and wondered what would happen. Nowadays, young men featured far more often in his thinking and when he masturbated, which was becoming more and more frequent, most days in fact, he often coincided his climax with the thoughts of a cock exploding in his mouth. Fortunately, maybe, the PT left as James was showering. Usually he could relax when having a massage. Normally the soothing, probing fingers of the muscular masseur eased the tension away. But tonight for some inexplicable reason that wasn't the case. The life guard kept coming into his mind and the sensuous experience of the hands on his back began to fan the already inflamed passions in his mind and body. It was as if his entire being had become sensitised to the stimulus of sex. James had been slow to realise what was happening to him as the masseur finished his back and asked him to turn over. He had thought it was all in his mind. It wasn't and it was almost with surprise that he became aware that his nipples had hardened under the small towel that the big boned, but not unattractive masseur used to cover his customers' modesty. More worrying to him, of course, was that his cock was hardening. He was not erect, but in that half way state when the penis is growing and hardening, but is far from being rampant. There was another smaller towel draped across his lower body that was covering that, or so he hoped. Lying there eyes closed, James felt the tingling, titillating sensations of his arousal. James had got into the habit of having a massage about every other week or so after a big session at the gym and usually went to a practice on his way home. He did not have a regular masseur, but just had any who were available. Jake had massaged him once before a month or so ago and James had been impressed by his skill and the depth to which his probing fingers went. They had also got on well finding numerous things in common including being members of the same gym where they had seen each other a couple of times. The probing hands were on his stomach now. The masseur had rolled the lower towel down so his pubes were covered as he kneaded the softness of James's waist and the flat hard muscle covering his tummy. Sometimes the touch was light, almost caressing his skin and at others it was firm pushing in towards his abdominal wall. This made the delectable stirring move lower towards the heart of a man's sexuality, his balls. James felt the desire begin to flow from deep inside him and was sensing the blood flowing to his penis as that was swelling. His eyes were tightly closed, but he could not help thinking about the guy who was, at least indirectly, the source, the conduit really, of these delicious feelings. Thirty five year old Jake was of mid-height, muscular and not at all camp. He had powerful thighs from long hours on the body toning machines and strong arms from pumping weights. He too was obsessed with his body, but in a very different way to his attractive and favourite client, Mister James Bancroft. Jake's obsession was about tone and form and shape and size of his muscles. He had an aquiline face and dark hair cut short, with the only condescension to femininity being the long lock that fell down his forehead. Although having few features that would mean he would be remembered by others, he was quite attractive, especially when he smiled for that made his eyes gleam. As usual he was wearing a white tee shirt and blue, track suit pants with an elasticated waistband. He was wearing the tee outside the waist of the trousers. James felt a surge of dampness as some pre cum leaked from his ever growing cock. Hey wait a minute, what was going on here, he thought suddenly? Men had never been his thing. Why was he feeling like this? But then he reconciled he was feeling and thinking like this more and more frequently of late. Thank God his feelings were carefully concealed and there was no way the masseur would know of them. It was his own little secret. Or so he thought. Unbeknown to James, the masseur liked men. He liked them very much, very much indeed. Possibly gay and certainly bi he had been with many. He loved the touch of them, the feel of their skin, the flows and curves and the shapes of their bodies. He admired their firmness and their musky male smell and he just simply adored their cocks and balls. And he knew their secret ways. Years of experience had taught him how to play a man's body like a fine and delicate instrument. Endless practice and execution had shown him how to feel its silent language of contraction and relaxation, smell its musky messages and see its subtle movements. The tensing of the muscles, the screwing of the eyes, the gripping of the fingers, the intake of breath, the flaring of the nostrils and the almost imperceptible, but to his noticeable writhing and gyrating of the pelvis. For some years now he had used his position as a masseur to gain and give sexual pleasure. It never ceased to amaze him at how many 'seemingly straight' guys were up for some bi fun when it was offered and he had found the ways to offer it. He knew also that in his position as a member of the Institute of Massage Therapists he would be in trouble if any complained so he was careful. But that in itself added to the excitement and the pleasure. He knew at once that he had flicked some switch in the delicious Mister B. That he had struck some receptive chord in the slightly aloof customer whom he had lusted after since they had first met. But he knew that he could do nothing, make no move or initiate any suggestion of intimacy. That was too dangerous. Sure he could send out physical hints, a brushing of his hand against a guy's cock, a softening of the massage, pressing himself against a client's arm and using some sexual innuendos or double entendres, but the customer had to respond. He had to give the signals, exactly as James was right now. Now he could capitalise on the discovery, use the signs and signals. He piled on the pressure, making the message more overtly sexual as for the very first time the tell-tale symptoms of arousal came back to him from the delicious prostrate form. Unbeknown to James, Jake had seen him in the gym and pool. He had seen him in his tight gym clothes, his skimpy swim suit and with rather surreptitious looks as he turned over on the table at the previous massage, he had seen him naked. He had seen him by himself, with a male personal trainer, with a few other men and women and of course with him alone on the massage table. Not once had he seen any sign whatsoever of James's sexual interest or desire and certainly nothing at all of his sexual predilections being anything other than dead straight. Until now that is and momentarily he wondered why? He was under no illusions about his looks and body. He realised it would not have been his physical appearance that was causing whatever it was that was going on inside his client. It was some extraneous force he knew that, but didn't care and why should he? This was one of the bonuses of the job. From time to time he got to indulge his desire for his own sex, occasionally even being slipped a ten, twenty or fifty pound note after. But he had to be careful; he could not afford to make mistakes. If he did and he made a move and was rejected he would not only lose his job, instantly, but also his license to practice. With some, a few really, there was no problem at all, they expected it and hence, the tips. The marketing consultant that James had told him he worked at had 'novice' written all over him. Nevertheless there was no room for misunderstanding. It was all deliciously dangerous. And that was the best way and just how he liked it. He reached for more oil. Now for the chest he thought. He slowly eased the towel away from James's chest and laid it on the massage table alongside the gorgeously shaped body. God he is lovely, Jake thought his ambitions restored his lust starting to grow. He had seen James's body before of course, but seeing his nicely hairy chest with the pronounced, but not to a body builder level, muscles sent a jolt through him. The massage manual, though, did not condone the amount and type of massage that Jake often gave to unsuspecting clients like James and which he was intending to provide right now. Feeling the towel being removed from his chest and knowing Jake was looking at his chest got to James. It was a seminal moment in each massage for his mind was now anticipating the hands on his breasts massaging them. He took a deep breath for momentarily it was the young life guard who was about to touch his boobs and not the older masseur. This near obsession with thinking about other guys both amazed and worried him. Jake swallowed deeply as such intense sensations began to flicker in him when his hands roamed just below, just above, down the sides and then on and over of each of James's breasts. Slowly he moved each hand onto the small mounds. His heart pounding from both the slight risk he was taking and from the glorious feel of the soft, pliant flesh, his hands roamed over the hair covered mounds and brushed against the pouting, rock hard nipples. His eyes played quickly over James's glistening body, his nostrils scenting the familiar perfume of a male's sexual need. Jake knew that James needed relief. Every sinew in his body told him that, told him that this was a screwed up guy who needed satisfying, told him in fact that he wanted to be fucked. But would he be prepared to break through the shackles of convention, would he move outside the sexual comfort zone he had occupied for so long, yes would he give in and let the masseur service him as he so badly wanted to be serviced. That Jake knew was far from certain, although it was tantalisingly possible. To James the fever pitch of excitement to which he was being raised was solely the result of his own mental processes; that fucking life guard he thought. He didn't know that inadvertently he had given the game away and was being manipulated as a result. As his body buzzed and vibrated with sexual desire, he remained in blissful ignorance of the masseur's intentions and was only aware of his own needs and illicit longings for gratification. Dancing in his mind's eye were the muscular quads and the pert cheeks of the masseur's bum whose hands had the freedom of his body. It seemed extraordinary that he had not noticed them last time or taken in the sturdy beauty of the strong arms, the full chest and sculptured thighs, the product of so much sweat and ecstasy. James could hardly believe that he was thinking how wonderful it would be to reach out and touch them and to slide his hand up the blue, track suit trouser covered legs or to slip them up the white tee shirt and onto Jakes chest. Secure in the supposed secrecy of his own thoughts he allowed his mind to wander along the unknown path of male with male sex. As his body vibrated to the wondrous touch of the masseur so James suddenly thought how wonderful it would be to feel Jake's chest against his own, to stroke him, hold his cock and yes he recognised to put that in his mouth. He had never sucked another guy, but had no doubt whatsoever that he would love it. If only the sublime fingers would reach between his legs, cup his balls and hold his cock to rid him of that irritant of burgeoning arousal. But why stop at fingers his lewdly creative mind was thinking as the vision of the life guard was replaced with one of Jake. A tongue was what he needed, even demanded. A man's tongue to enter his mouth, to lick his chest and suck his cock. That was what he wanted and what he needed to straighten his soaring mind and bring him back to earth. Yes, he realised with a surge of horror and excitement he wanted Jake to give him a blow job. What the hell am I thinking? I don't do men; I never have so why am I thinking this now? In the pool it had been the life guard who he had thought would bring the sexual relief that his robust work out had created. On the massage table, now naked apart from the towel draped across his lower stomach, he knew the answer. This was the safest. No commitments. No relationships. No ties. And the beauty of it was that he was alone in his own secure and private world of sexual release. No one else, not even the guy who was building his arousal knew what was going on for it was happening inside and not outside of him. But of course that was not the case. Although the towel was bunched around his waist and the folds pretty much hid his acute arousal, Jake had seen the signs and knew exactly what was going on. Ok James thought as the sensations built up, it could be argued that it was depraved to entertain such wild fantasies and to use another unsuspecting human being in this way, but where was the harm? If it enabled James regain his sexual equilibrium and not take a male lover, particularly a young life guard with all the inherent risk to his marriage, then the end would certainly justify the means. But what on earth was he thinking? 'Take a male lover,' for fuck's sake what's going on in his mind? Jake got the message. Monitoring everything that was going on both through his fingers and with his eyes he realised that his customer would admit nothing, wouldn't participate in overt lovemaking and certainly would not pay for being wanked, sucked or fucked. He wanted anonymous sex with everything ambiguous and with ultimate deniability. On the downside for Jake this meant little involvement from James, but the upside was that this extraordinary man clearly intended to cum and just as clearly wanted him to make him do just that. Jake decided that would be fin; he would groom him, take his time and get his payback in due course. But then, of course, he rationalised if James never wanted to play and if Jake was unable to 'turn' him so what? He would still have had the pleasure of holding his cock and jerking him off and how bad was that? His momentary disappointment was replaced with the anticipation of the game that was to be played. The game where he was to give this adorable creature an orgasm, but neither would be able to admit to it, both on the table and afterwards. Jake knew that to do this he would have to sail close to the wind and, skirt the borders of acceptable stimulation. He would have to take risks and do things he rarely did, but he knew it would be worth it. To have this handsome mid-forties rich, married man writhing in orgasmic delight on his table from his hands was a challenge he would do anything to achieve. Deep down, though, Jake wondered what inhibitions might be cast aside, what prejudices may be abandoned in the headlong pursuit of the ultimate male pleasure, a full blown orgasm with cum all over his belly. He had done similar before. He had massaged men who could not accept their 'sexuality lapse,' would not admit to the delights another man could provide and would not react in any way other than covering Jakes' hand with their cum. But to him that was ok, that was cool, it was alright. After all playing with, stroking, fondling and maybe also licking and sucking a gorgeous, stunningly hard cock and cupping a pair of full balls was what he was all about. And so with all these thoughts whirring in his mind, the masseur leaned low over James Bancroft's body as he smoothed his oiled fingers over the alluring, slightly heaving chest again brushing against the very clearly fully erect nipples that looked as though they were about to burst. He sent his fingers up into James's warm, wet armpits, loving it, luxuriating in it and feeling his prey's breath on his cheek as his breathing quickened. Jake had to continually fight the desire to bend his face even further forward and take the nipples between his teeth and suck them hard and long, or even more tempting to kiss James' full, sensual lips. With his face just inches from the near perfect symmetry of James' chest he had to summon up levels of self-control he did not know he possessed to stop himself. Beneath his hand the masseur could feel the fluttering, pounding heart and the heaving lungs as James' whole body reacted to the stimulation. Get the timing right he had to tell himself. Not too fast, not too slow. He decided to take a chance, the situation warranted the risk. With both hands he gently cupped the breasts that were just inches from his face and pushed them together into one mound of delicious tit flesh. Other than a flicker of James' tightly clenched eyes and a slight, but sharp intake of breath there was no reaction and certainly no objection. Jake squeezed the delicious mass of flesh more firmly. Again a movement of the head, but no objection, thankfully. Then, with infinite reverence he moved his hands up towards the tempting, tense nipples. Deftly he took each one between his thumbs and forefingers and squeezed firmly and enquiringly yet insistently. He had gone so much further than both normal massage conventions stipulate and he had gone with James before. But his actions had been contained, just,0 and his customer had done nothing to say he didn't want what Jake was offering. But he was pushing the boundaries of conventionality to the extreme. Only a pretty way out massage would involve that sort of action, but if both participants ignored it there could be no clear cause for later complaint. After pinching James's delightful nipples quite hard, Jake instantly relinquished the red hot, bullet hard tips and his hands travelled swiftly downwards.