Hands to God


I park my car and walk to his apartment. Ring the buzzer and he comes running down, opens the door and almost immediately, I'm disappointed. Not a bad body, but the face was just not attractive to me. He explained he wasn't photogenic when we chatted by email, but, as often is the case, someone's "not photogenic" because they are just not good looking.  In this case, it was true.

I follow him upstairs. He opens his apartment door and we walk into a beautiful modern looking kitchen. Bright red cabinets, granite counter-tops, amazing cooking accessories and stove. I was impressed.  We walk to the living room, and I wasn't disappointed there either. Very well decorated, unique pieces of furniture, nice colors, and cool art.  I look around as we talk, taking in the atmosphere. He shows me the white marble bathroom and eventually the bedroom, which consisted of a big comfy four posted bed and dresser. The closet was equally impressive.

Each room, including the bathroom had speakers, and music played throughout the apartment. This was no normal, usual Queens apartment - this guy had taste, and apparently, money.
He's chatty - very chatty. Kinda too chatty. He's standing, sitting, not really seeming comfortable. He says "well, what should we do?" and I tell him "Well, you promised a massage, didn't you?" He again walks me to the bed and throws the pillows to the side and points to the bed as he asks me to get comfortable. I take off my shirt, pull my pants off and ask him if I can take off my briefs. He says "sure" with a nervous giggle and a smile. He was nervous, he said. He doesn't do "this" often. Being a 35 year old gay man, I would think that "this" is part of your everyday life..meeting guys, hooking up - but, perhaps this was a guy who was newly single.

I lay down on my stomach across his bed, with a pillow under my head. He pulls off his shirt, and straddles me, oddly, still in his jeans. He gets some oil and pours it in his hands and begins rubbing my back and neck. I love massages and at this point, really needed one to get out some knots that have been bothering me. He continues to rub. He told me online that he wasn't any expert, and he clearly wasn't, but as he said, he's a "pleaser" and he enjoyed giving massages, and he's never heard any complaints. He wasn't getting any complaints from me. The massage was strong and firm,  which is rule #1 for a good massage.  Most non-pros give wimpy rubs that are more annoying than therapeutic. This guy was much better than that.
I relaxed as he continued massaging me. We chatted off and on throughout the rub, about work, the neighborhood, and other small talk. He mentioned his boyfriend - in present tense in one conversation and later, mentioned the same boyfriend in past tense. I found it odd.

He rubbed my back, down to my lower back, nearly touching the top of my butt, then back to my neck, arms and shoulders again. After 45 minutes, he still was in his jeans, and still never touched me inappropriately, or even appropriately below my waist. Then, he got a phone call, and came back a second later, and before he got on the bed again, took off his jeans and underwear. He again straddled me and asked if there was anything else he could do for me. I mentioned that if he could massage my butt too, that would be great. He again grabbed the oil, applied it to his hands and began rubbing my butt, upper legs and thighs.  After about 15 minutes, he started brushing my inner thighs, and then my balls. Soon, he was reaching between my legs, grabbing my now engorged cock, and tugging it as he continued to rub my ass.  Eventually, I couldn't take it any more, turned over and he grabbed my cock and jerked me off as I shot gobs of cum all over my chest. He then jerked himself off as I rubbed his ass.

He got up, grabbed a towel and we both wiped and cleaned up. I get dressed and met him in the living room again, and look around at some of the interesting art. I ask him about the boyfriend - ex-boyfriend thing and he says he's recently single - 9 months it seems. I ask him further about the apartment, how unusual it was and he tells me his boyfriend built it. He reveals that soon after, the boyfriend got cancer, and through the next 6 months, he was by his side as he got weaker and weaker, sicker and sicker, until he died.
He shows me pictures of him and his boyfriend.  I see the love he had for him, and the understand the subsequent pain of losing him brought him.

I also now understand his odd nervousness of having another man in his home, undressed in his bed, and how lucky I was to have been the one he chose.

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